A tribute to Father Pat.
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| Class of 85' Silver Jubilee Reunion |
I
am deeply saddened to hear of the passing of Fr Patrick D’Lima, SJ,
Long-time
former Vice-Principal of our beloved St Paul’s High School, Belgaum.
My
abiding memory of Fr Pat will be of him running laps of the school ground at dusk.
Dressed in shorts, a loose T-shirt and sneakers, he seemed tireless, going at a
steady, if not brisk pace. It was a simple routine, yet it illustrated the kind
of man he was: persistent, hard working, setting an example, leading by
example. Some of us who lived in Camp would join him on his run, and although
he was in his 50s by then, we teenagers struggled to keep up with him.
Fr
Pat was a keen sportsman, handy at hockey and football, and by some accounts
even basketball, despite his short stature. He was a shrewd observer, and
standing in a corner near the school office during assembly, he surveyed all
before him with an eagle eye. Nothing escaped his gaze. Arriving late or
barefoot attracted strokes of the fair ruler, as did the wrong uniform.
For
six years from 1979-85, I was always attracting his attention, most often of
the unwelcome kind.
For
some reason, I had the feeling that Fr Pat did not like me very much. It didn’t
help that I was always getting on his wrong side. When he came to our class,
VII C, around 1982 asking for volunteers for bugling, I immediately raised my
hand. He responded with equal speed. “Not you, put your hand down,’’ he said
sternly. Looking at my skinny frame, he probably thought I would struggle to
blow a note.
I
was not to be deterred. I went for bugling practice with the rest of the
selected candidates anyway. When Fr Pat came around a couple of days later and
asked why I was there, the bugling master, a member of the Army band, saved me
by telling him I was the best of the lot. So I stayed, and for a few years from
then on performed my bugling duties with great pride and not a little
arrogance.
I
never forgave Fr Pat for making me a reserve player in the victorious Royceton
Gomes Memorial Cup team of 1982. When I got the chance to play in one match,
for only about five minutes as a substitute for Ivan D’souza, I scored a goal.
Such was my anger at being left out of the playing XI.
As
class monitor, I was often also the chief troublemaker, frequently inciting the
class to shout insults at Fr Pat as he approached the class for his English
lesson. He caught me reading a Hardy Boys novel during his class, and I got a
good taste of the dreaded biscuit. I might add that it wasn’t the only occasion
I tasted it, besides having my ears twisted and squeezed a good number of times.
When
I ranked among the top 10 in the school for the 1985 SSLC exam, Fr Pat was
genuinely surprised: “I don’t know how you do it,” he said to me.
It
was only many years after I had left school that I understood and appreciated
Fr Pat’s ability to bring out the best in his students, both in class and on
the field. To tutor, mentor, train, inspire, challenge, discipline and reward
as required.
As
a hell-raising youngster, I delighted in giving him grief. I did not then
appreciate, as I do now, the life of sacrifice and hardship that Fr Pat had
willingly embraced, so that young fools like me could test his patience and
reward him with our thoughtless and stupid antics.
Nearly
four years ago, at the Silver Jubilee celebrations of our Class of 1985, I was
looking forward to meeting Fr Pat and finally expressing my admiration and
gratitude to him. Face to face. Alas, it was not to be. On the morning of the
day he was to travel to Belgaum from Pune with some of our classmates, he
suffered a fall and twisted his ankle. A group of our Pune-based classmates
later went to his living quarters and felicitated him there.
I’m
glad at least some of us had the privilege of meeting him one last time.
Unfortunately, I was not among them. Chances are, Fr Pat would not even have
remembered me. How many thousands, nay tens of thousands like me, would have
passed through his tutelage? And owe at least some measure of their success in
life to him?
I
will never have a chance to tell Fr Pat what a great man he was. That he would already
have been told by Him whom Fr Pat served all of his adult life.
R.I.P.
Father. Thank you for everything.
Sanjay J. Bhosale – Class’ of 85,
Canberra,
Australia
04/11/2013
p.s;
Link to My class felicitation of Rev.Fr. Patrick D’lima,
My
Class’, had the chance to say Thank You, Fr.
