MYLAPORE / SANTHOME
Mylapore is one of the oldest residential areas in Chennai. It intersects with Royapettah and Adyar, and contains part of the coast of the Bay of Bengal, as well as two incredibly important religious institutions in the city: Kapaleeshwarar Hindu Temple [around 1000 years old], and the Santhome Cathedral, which according to Catholic tradition, is built over the tomb of the Apostle Thomas, who was a missionary here, and got himself speared to death by one of the locals. The name of the neighborhood "Mylapore" is taken from the old Tamil expression "mayil arparikum oor," which roughly translates into English as "Land of the peacock scream."
The
sounds of singing, and of a rickshaw motor on the other side of the parking
lot.
“Evening Mass at the Santhome Cathedral. This
is, supposedly…according to…Catholic tradition…the place where St. Thomas, doubting
Thomas…um…is buried, is laid to rest.”
I
take a walk around the building. There are people in the parking lot. There are
people waiting outside the church [the inside was quite full], but the people
outside seem to be doing little more than loitering. There are loudspeakers
broadcasting the sound of the priest and choir out into the Cathedral’s campus.
Some of the people wait by their cars or stand in small groups, as if at a sacred
drive-in theater.
Regardless
of whether or not God is an omnipresent reality in Chennai, I can hear the
sound of horns honking along the road in front of the church, and the sounds of
doors opening and closing, and of motorcycles, bicycles, and cars coming and
going.
Crows.
“There are a LOT of Catholics here.”
“…I mean in Chennai. Obviously there are a
lot of Catholics at the Catholic church [tongue pop].”
The
sound of a fake waterfall in one corner of the parking lot blends in with the
sounds of cars and with the general crowd sound.
There
are several people in the tomb, including children. Everyone is Indian except
me. Women in Saris are kneeling down with their children in front of some fancy
plastic simulacrum of St. Thomas, looking like one of the knights of King
Arthur’s round table [St. Thomas, not the ladies].
A
man does something halfway between belching and gagging for several seconds.
It
actually takes me a moment to realize that people are singing in this
recording. It almost sounds like it’s in my head, like a memory, and not coming
from the Cathedral next door.
I
hear a lot of whispering and movement, though at the time it seemed that
everyone was still and silent.
I’m
posting the whole recording [which is 42 minutes and some change long] just in
case anyone wants to listen to the whole thing. Basically three things happen:
a reading [I think], some singing [which is awesome, ~3:12 à 7:45, and 9:42 à 10:48], and a sermon [10:49
à 42:10].
With
the singing, I was struck by how much it sounds like some hipster combination
of karaoke, Jimmy Buffet, and Pink Floyd’s Brick
in the Wall. I like it. It’s certainly better than “Shine Jesus Shine,” and
the rest of the American Evangelical Contemporary Suburban Christian Elevator
Pop Music Spectacle [AECSCEPMS]. The cantor’s voice has buttery, cheerful,
intimate quality that reminds me of the sound of old Tamil movies.
I’ll
always have a soft spot in my heart for the didactic, earnest, boredom and
timbrally / temporally gorgeous sloppiness of congregational singing. The inexpertness,
the false starts, and the difficulty with which the guy running the drum machine
wordlessly negotiates where the beat is with the choir.
---
The
priest begins his sermon and builds up into a crescendo and a rhythm. It’s a
very strange experience that fills my head with thoughts. One the one hand this
sermon is so much longer than most Catholic Church sermons I’ve seen in the
West, which tend to last 15 minutes or so. This priest is luxuriating in a
discourse like the Baptist and Pentecostal preachers I’m more familiar with. I
don’t speak Tamil, so I don’t understand anything he’s saying of course, except
in two spots where he suddenly shifts into English:
“It’s not by chance, but by choice…Tamiltamiltamiltamiltmailtmailtamil…”
…and
at several points in the sermon, I hear him say:
“…unconditional love…”
He’s
speaking into a microphone, and his voice is being amplified and broadcast from
several rows of monitor speakers that are hung on the eaves lining the walls.
His voice echoes through the room. It’s sound reminds me of the constantly too
hot sound of old Tamil records. It also makes me think – now I
realize – of the sound of Mao Tse Tung’s voice in the recording used by Peter
Albinger for his Voices and Piano. Even
the priest’s cadence reminds me of Mao.
It's is melodious. He elongates words, repeats melodic phrases, adds in
dramatic moments of rest. It echoes for a moment in the packed church. It's extremely loud. The
sound of a bird suddenly calls my attention.
His
sermon has a long build.
“Yessa Christ-uh!”
“Yessa Christ-uh!”
“Yessa Christ-uh!”
The
congregation echoes him as they raise their hands to testify. A few of them
actually say “Amen.”
It
really is something to hear, around 23 minutes in. He draws such vivid and
slick shapes with the inflection of his voice, almost as if his is sword
fighting with words.
This
is where he suddenly says the thing about chance and choice. I’m used to
hearing Hindi-speaking Bollywood stars suddenly slip in a couple English words,
or short phrases. I haven't noticed that kind of language mixing here in the south.
I
love how he pronounces the word “love”: with a looong -o and a nearly inaudible
v [which sounds closer to -w], and the way Tamil speakers pronounce the
double-a [“aaaAHHH”] [~34:56]
…The
Reverend Pastor Doctor Deacon Bishop Mao Tse Tung…
I’m
super tired, nodding my head, wishing he would bring this one to a close.
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