'My four Marys

and me . . .
IT IS A BIT selfish to call the four Marys mine, since they distribute their favours (not to mention their requests) pretty widely. But since I am the most honoured in this respect, and the bench outside my door seems to be their favourite rendezvous, there is some justification for my claim
"Kubri Mary" (or as some call her "David's Mary" in honour of her late and much lamented husband) has the gift of tears. Kubri means "bent", and, like the lady in the Gospel, she is bent almost double. She has no visible means of support, so the Society of St Vincent de Paul helps her.
Her main appeals to me are for "soap to wash my saree". If I have one, I also slip a packet of soup into her bag. I dare not prolong the conversation with her — dramatic tears begin as soon as she unfolds her tale of woe. She is a very good actress.
"Ring Mary" is smaller and happier. She has reason to be. For she is a capitalist. She buys and sells rings and brooches — hence her name. Once she came and very confidentially said she needed some capital. "How much?" I asked warily, expecting an appeal for two or three thousand rupees.
"I need 21 rupees (about 12p)", she said softly. I felt I could afford to invest that much in her business.
Another time she told me: "My shop is broken and has to be repaired." I investigated. Her "shop" consists of a box 2ft by Wt. It is three inches deep, and is covered with glass to display her wares. The glass had broken and needed replacing. So her "shop" repairs came to exactly If rupees (about 7p).
Last night I visited "Eugene's Mary". Eugene, who earns money by fishing occasionally, is ill. Mary earns the rent of the room by working for the landlord, and another 25 rupees (£1.25) by working for someone else.
I found a job for both of them, but they were not able to hold on to them. The SVP refuses to help them. They say it would only encourage laziness. Worse, they will not allow me to help them, because that would give the SVP a bad name.
So father and mother and five children lie on the floor with nothing to cover them. We gave them a quilt once, but they have sold it, I suppose for food. So the SVP will not give them another. On the quiet, I sent them some old curtains I had.
But there is very little one can do for the undeserving poor. I suppose these are really the anawim the prophets wrote about: poor materially, poor physically, poor mentally and poor spiritually.
I have my warm bed to creep into. But Eugene and Mary and their five children have — nothing. And although this is India it is cold here at nights, bitterly cold.
"Georgic's Mary" is someone I won't see for some time. She died recently. Her son Georgie was very dependent on her. Though he works at odd jobs around (grossly underpaid), it was only with his mother that he could really communicate.
She was a remarkably holy and heroic woman, and endured the pains of terminal cancer with Christian fortitude. Her last and most earnest request was that Georgie should make his First Communion before she died. We tried hard, but it was only at her funeral that he finally made it. I sat with him, prompting and helping him.
After Communion, which he received with obvious love and joy, he seemed agitated. "I want to give my mother a present", he said. He produced from his pocket a handkerchief that was not too clean, hut w as embroidered at the edges. It
was obviously his most precious possession.
So, after the ceremony, before the lid was placed on the coffin, we went up and Georgie reverently placed the handkerchief on his mother's face.
Georgie is now living with me. He pops into my room periodically and asks me to teach him prayers. He wants me especially to teach him from the "Meatman Book". I have tried, but I still don't know what he means.
He says that I taught him from that book before. I am teaching him from the "Breadman Book" — the one with modern illustrations of the Eucharist. But he is not completely satisfied. He must have the "Meatman Book".
Pray for Georgie. And For my Marys. And for mc.
Fr Roger Lesser