Prenatal Prologue: I resonate with Jeremiah’s God-given assurance: “before you were born I consecrated you.” December 3, 1959, my parents struck a deal with St Francis Xavier at Bom Gesù, Goa: “If, through your intercession, Goencho Saib, we’re blessed with a baby boy, we’ll name him Francis!” Dad and mum were already blessed with two lovely girls; yet, like every Indian parent, they wanted a boy, too! My birth caused great rejoicing, and some trepidation, since my grandma prayed to St. Joseph and grandaunt to St. Anthony. To avert family friction, dad declared, “His name is Francis, Joseph, Anthony!”
Violin—My First Love: I was born in Bandra, Mumbai, next-door to a Jesuit church: St. Peter’s. Bandra was a catholic citadel with everyone faith-fully fed on a staple diet of masses, rosaries, novenas, processions and Lenten missions. Life was religiously regulated: (a) daily Mass to ensure blessings; (b) serve Mass to gain ‘extra’ blessings; (c) visit the Blessed Sacrament before class; (d) evenings, games, then study till 8 pm; (e) then, compulsory rosary—no rosary, no khana! (f) after khana, night prayers, then bed.
My parents’ foresight was phenomenal. When I was seven, daddy bought a mini-violin: “Francis, would you like to play this?” Thrilled, I said, “Yes, daddy!” I fell in love with the violin. Despite initial difficulties to produce bearable sounds, braving protests from siblings, I painstakingly practised the violin, daily. Ever God-fearing, dad advised me to say this prayer daily: “Jesus, if it’s your will, make me a priest; and, grant me the grace of a happy death!” The first was, clearly, God’s will. I pray that the second be granted.
Aged seven to seventeen, I so obsessively loved my violin, that she responded to my tender touch. With God-given talent, at ten I played songs by heart. At thirteen, I joined the NCPA (National Centre for Performing Arts) orchestra, being the youngest violinist. By sixteen, I won many music competitions, including the all-Bombay Schools’ first prize for instrumental music. I was teaching violin to many students. Pocket money poured in. Though I sometimes routinely mumbled the “make me a priest” prayer, I neither wanted to be one nor did I think God would take such puerile prattle seriously.
Life in Jesuit-run St. Stanislaus and junior-college at Sydenham’s, Church-gate, was fun, feisty and fulfilling. I slogged at studies and music, excelling in both. Indoors, I devoured books; outdoors, music transported me into the glamorous world of concerts and parties. Extrovert by nature, I had a charming circle of friends—female and male—whom I loved. Honestly, I had ‘crushes’ on many pretty girls; but my first love, the violin, held pride of place.
“Join the Jesuits or airlines to see the world!” was a popular saying in Jesuit-school circles. Daddy was working in Air-India. Thanks to free air-tickets, we holidayed in Malaysia, UK and the USA, enjoying the hospitality of migrated cousins who warmly welcomed us. They suggested that I move to UK or USA for studies and settlement. Meanwhile, daddy was retiring from service and wanted one of his children to join Air-India. The choice was between my elder-sister, Goretti (see her vocation-story in MAGNET),[1] and me. Frankly, Air-India was a no-no; but I nursed dreams of settling abroad, aided by cousins.
Gujarat—Later Love: Sometime in boyhood, I visited Ahmedabad for the first vows of my Jesuit-cousin, Prasad. He prayed: “Almighty God, unworthy though I am, yet moved by the desire to serve you, I vow perpetual chastity, poverty, and obedience in the Society of Jesus. I promise to spend my life in it forever.” I hero-worshipped Prasad. I mused: Why is this brilliant scientist vowing to be poor, unwed, submissive? Prasad’s pledge touched me deeply. I never forgot Gujarat.
Studying for junior-college board exams, I got a letter from Gujarat Jesuits: “Would you like to join the pre-novitiate in Ahmedabad? We’ll come to meet you.” I dreaded their visit. My mind said, “No!” But Fr. Castiella and Bro. Darrel came. They asked, “Why don’t you come to Ahmedabad for college?” I said, “No! I’ll finish my graduation; then come!” They continued, “Many Bombay-guys are coming: Lancy, Arnold, Edward, John. You’ll have company.” I persisted: “No! I’m too busy. I’ll come later.” They left. I was relieved. The relief was short-lived.
Weeks later, two Redemptorists came to St. Peter’s for a Lenten Mission. They taught us the hymn: “The Saviour is waiting to enter your heart, why don’t you let Him come in?” I felt Jesus asking me, pointedly, “Francis, why don’t You let Me in?” A tug-of-war ensued. Two loves vied for undivided loyalty. My first-love, violin, was refreshing, remunerative; my later-love, Gujarat, distant, daunting, yet Christ-captivating. I was drowning in doubt: Why me? Faraway Gujarat? What about violin? Orchestra? Friends? Career? UK-USA? A serene voice silenced the storms: “Francis, I need You. Now!”
Christ’s “Now!” being so compelling, I told my parents: “I’m going to Ahmedabad, now!” Aware of my obsession with music and career, dad asked: “Do you sincerely feel you must go, now?” I cried, “I’m confused, dad; but I must go, now, or never!” He understood. Embracing me, he said, “Then, go! But, if you feel you’ve made a mistake, come back!” Mum held back tears. My siblings were sad. But, at least I had Lancy, Arnold, Edward and John to cling to. After I booked my train-ticket to Ahmedabad, I asked them about their coming. They answered, “We’re not coming, now!” I went. Alone. Interestingly, Lancy came later. Arnold, Edward and John are happily married.
Playing Second Fiddle to Jesus, My Maestro: College in Ahmedabad was a nightmare. I was the only pre-novice studying in a Hindu commerce college; all others studied at St. Xavier’s. Everyone spoke Gujarati. Apart from “kem chho?” I understood nothing. Nonetheless, I soon befriended Hindu and Jain Gujaratis who disliked Christianity. They’d pose many questions about Jesus, resurrection, celibacy, conversions, etc. Through them, my love for interfaith dialogue was born. They loved Bollywood films. Since my Bollywood exposure was zilch, I began seeing deshi films. I quietly consigned my violin to limbo. Time was ripe to enter the womb of Gujarat-Mata—to learn a new language, adopt a new family. I was born again.
Forty years ago, I arrived in Ahmedabad. Ever since, my Maestro, Jesus, leads. He composes the tune, plays the main melody. I play second-fiddle, synchronizing with the symphony of God’s Spirit. Jesuit life mellowed me through a begging experiment, cleaning lepers’ wounds, harvesting rice, residing in villages. My ‘pastoral honeymoon’ was among south Gujarat Adivasis. My Maestro, Jesus, taught me so much.
“Nothing is accidental, nothing is coincidental; everything is providential,” is my mantra. My heart broke to leave Gujarat for teaching theology at Vidyajyoti, Delhi. Providentially, there again, my Maestro guided me through slums, Tihar jail, lecturing, journalism, and pastoral pursuits. Moreover, one of daddy’s letters before he died in March 1987 was providential: “My precious Francis, I never told you that, soon after your baptism, I placed you before the statue of St. Francis Xavier and prayed to God, that, if it were God’s will, I’d gladly offer you to Him. I’m grateful that God has accepted my offering.”
What one seemingly sacrifices, God does not reject. God sublimates. In 2008, when I confessed to Delhi Protestant pals “ages ago, I played the violin,” they begged me to retry since St. Stephen’s and Delhi Christian Chorus (DCC) desperately needed a violinist. Stirred by God’s Spirit, I embraced my violin anew. I have played for sixteen ecumenical concerts—now, not as performer, but as ‘accompanist’: second fiddler!
Today, I believe I rightly chose to enter Jesus’ Society. Sorry, Jesus rightly piloted me into His Society! And, with my Jesuit-namesake Pope Francis conducting Christ’s orchestra, I contentedly continue playing second fiddle.
Francis Gonsalves is a Gujarat Jesuit, former Principal of Vidyajyoti College, Delhi, now Professor at Jnana-Deepa Vidyapeeth, Pune. A columnist with The Asian Age and The Deccan Chronicle national dailies, he writes about social-justice issues and interfaith dialogue.
l[1] See Maria Goretti Gonsalves, “Twelve kids? No, hundreds!” in MAGNET, Vocation Stories, January 2017, p.6.
Fr. Francis Gonsalves SJ
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