My Sunday

Holy Rosary Church at Tejgaon, Dhaka (Photo: Chandan Robert Rebeiro)

For nearly everyone in Bangladesh, Sunday is not a weekend day. I’m one the few ‘privileged’ guys to have a weekly holiday on the Holy Day for Christians. In an earlier post I wrote why the custom of having a day off on Sunday was changed.

Sunday has always been a special day to me especially in my seminary years from 1999 to 2007. For the first two of those years, when I was studying in grade 9 and 10 Sunday was a half day school holiday. We used to have good meals –the best of the week – from breakfast to dinner at Little Flower Seminary at Bandura. Then we could take a long siesta after lunch. From the minor seminary to intermediate then degree level seminaries, both in Dhaka. Sunday was a very welcome, blissful day for me and all the boys.

But since those times it has become less of a special day. My roommate, a bachelor like me, has his weekend on Friday and Saturday, so Saturday is the common holiday for us both and we enjoy it together. Sometimes we go to the park, or the theater or cinema, or to some other cultural function in Dhaka. But then Sunday can be a tough day as I’m alone at home, so now it’s just a rest day to me.

When in Dhaka I usually sleep late, then make breakfast, do some chores and cook lunch. The routine is often interrupted as gas, water and electricity outages are frequent. Sometimes it gets to 4 o’clock before I can have lunch, so I often opt to go out for it.

In Dhaka I try to get to 6 o’clock Mass at the Holy Rosary Church in Tejgaon, about 30 minutes walk from where I live. Five priests serve here – it’s the largest Catholic Church in the country, right in the heart of the city. Not all the priests offer Mass well and they can’t all deliver a good sermon. They often just repeat the Gospel, or they speak too much on theological matters. I feel sorry for those devoted souls who come to Mass direct from their workplace. They keep coming even though they might not be inspired by some of the priests’ sermons.

Every time I’m on my way to Mass I wonder if the priest will be one that I don’t like. Unfortunately, most times, it is. Nowadays I’ve become an irregular Sunday Massgoer, not because I have such a busy life, but because I’m afraid of Mass being boring. I’m a good listener but I lose interest in boring things.

I go to my village home, 45 kms northeast of Dhaka, about once a month. Sunday is good there as my dad and mom do everything. All I need to do is get up early and get to Mass. Then, after Mass, it’s nice to meet lots of friends. Sometimes we spend some time together and go for something to eat and drink. That makes my Sunday a little bit special.

View Original Post @ UCAN Blogs on Aug. 29, 2011

Remembering an ever-smiling face



Kishore Cruze

In another tragic recurrence of road accidents that are unabated in Bangladesh at the moment, a highway bus overturned at central Bangladesh’s Tangail district, 92 kilometers away from the capital, on August 4.

The Dhaka-bound bus lost control when its driver hit the brakes of the speeding vehicle for unknown reasons.

Three passengers were killed and others were badly injured and rushed to a local hospital for emergency care.

It was a shocking blow to learn that one of the passengers killed was a second-year seminarian from Holy Spirit National Major Seminary in Dhaka.

Kishore Cruze, 25, was traveling back to the seminary after spending a month’s summer vacation at home.

His colleague Mintu Rozario, 26, injured his leg in the crash.

Surprisingly, the tragedy was not covered by the mainstream media in Bangladesh, though it appeared here on ucanews.com on August 5.

The tragic news came to us by phone from one of our local reporters in Tangail.

I was stunned and remained motionless for a moment because I simply could not believe the news. I called the reporter again to verify, and he confirmed that the tragedy was true.

When I got home, I sent SMS messages to all our reporters and almost all of my former seminary friends who knew Kishore Cruze.

Most of them responded quickly with phone calls, including one friend in the United States. Like me, they were all disheartened.

Kishore (which means “adolescent” in Bengali) was not a close friend but he has a face to remember always. He will always remain young in our memories.

He was one of the best seminarians I’ve ever met during my 1999-2007 seminary life. He was simple, honest and hard-working.

I had known him since 2004 when he came to attend a Special Study Program at St. Joseph’s Seminary at the archbishop’s house in Dhaka after intermediate exams.

One thing I hope all my friends will never forget is Kishore’s all-conquering smile. Every time anyone talked to him, he used to smile – a rare thing among people these days.

He was a very meek and humble boy and very respectful to senior seminarians. I hardly ever saw him show any signs of annoyance or anger at anything or anyone.

I still recall his large smile when I last met him on May 14 this year, when 10 of my former classmates received Cassock after completing three years at the major seminary.

It is really painful for anyone who knew Kishore to believe he had to depart so untimely and tragically. The Church should never have to bear the loss of such a good future priest.

Yet today, I cannot accept the fact that the ever-smiling face is no more. Why are good people taken away too soon?

We’ll miss you, Kishore, today and always. We hope you keep on smiling from heaven until, if we deserve it, we will meet you again.

Published on UCAN Blog on August 9, 2011