The Hindu Business Line : The Papal encounter-II

WELCOME back! Where were we before the break? Ah, yes: That sunny morning on Palm Sunday of 1979 in Rome was in stark contrast to the dark gloom enveloping me, deposited among prelates and plenipotentiaries apparently gathered to perform esoteric rituals in the heart of the Holy See, bracing myself for a face-to-face encounter with Pope John Paul II, feeling inside me as if I was coming face-to-face with my Maker!

In no time at all, the Pope stood before me, bestowing a benign glance and beatific smile, and ere I could decide whether or not to fall to my knees, quickly moved on to his ornamental chair.

Luckily, the rest of the happenings did not involve my having to take part in any rituals or make a spectacle of myself, except to rise from my seat now and then by taking the cue from the rest of the flock on the podium, synchronising my lips to some prayers intoned in Latin.

Thus, without any effort on my part, thanks to a kind-hearted Cardinal, I was able to have a ringside seat, close to the Pope, on one of the most important occasions for Catholics. (I am not to blame, folks, if you were agog for something sensational!)

I had not the least idea as I was leaving the St Peter's Square that I was destined to be hailed as a Pope myself. It happened this way. My brother was arriving in Rome from Paris that day.

I thought I would check up on this and went to the hotel where he was booked to stay. The receptionist told me that he had gone out and so, I decided to leave a note for him.

At the end of the note, with the receptionist avidly peeking in, I signed myself "Papa" which is how close family members call me. No sooner did the receptionist see the word than he jumped in great excitement, and gesticulating wildly, shouted in part exclamation and part interrogation, "Il Papa!? Il Papa!?" and made the sign of the cross.

I was shocked that he should be presumptuous enough to call me papa with barely five minutes' acquaintance and proclaim me to be ill to boot.

My assurances that I was hale and hearty made no impact on him. An Italian guest at the hotel who was sitting in the lounge and knew a smattering of English came to the counter and asked if I was a Pope of some church by any chance.

I said, "Not yet!" and bolted from the place.

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