"I Will Arrange"

46 years ago, my wife and I were in the midst of a year-long trip around the world and in early December, arrived at the small town of Cheruthuruti in Kerala, India. It was the site of the Kalamandalam School, devoted to training musicians/ dancers in the art of Kathakali Dance Drama. I had hopes that I could study a drum there, which indeed happened. 

 

As soon as we entered the town, we headed toward the Government Guest House, a clean and affordable (I believe it was $1.50 per night!) accommodation. There on the front porch were two Western travelers talking with an Indian man named Raymond. Raymond spoke good English, was interested in the U.S. (with a special affection for John F. Kennedy) and was quick to offer us help in settling in. So began a three-month relationship which was captured in three words, “I will arrange.” Whatever we needed, whatever we were interested in, he spoke those magic three words and Poof! it happened! From a local festival to a shadow puppet play to lunch cooked by a local woman to helping arranging my drum lessons to getting us a house to rent in a rice field ($20 a month), Raymond did it all. He accompanied us to these various events, came over just to hang out and talk and generally made our magical three months there possible and memorable. 

 

When we returned to the U.S., we continued to write letters every once in a while and then that faded away. Many years later, when Facebook had emerged, I noticed one of his two sons now living in Atlanta, Georgia in a post. The timing was perfect, as in 2011, I was planning to take my daughter Kerala to the place she was named for in honor of her 30^th birthday. My wife at first declined to come and then decided to, as well as my daughter Talia. I had great hopes to reunite with Raymond, as well as my drum teacher Narayana and our lunch cook Sainaba. His son gave me Raymond’s phone number and when we arrived in Cochin, Kerala, I called him and lo and behold, he answered! We agreed to meet at that same guest house on a proposed date. 

 

We took the train from Cochin north toward Cheruthuruti. My excitement mounting as we passed familiar town names, finally getting off at Shornur. A quick tuk-tuk ride across the river and left turn up the hill to the Government Guest House. And there he was, sitting on the same steps where we met 32 years ago. “Raymond!!” I bolted from the tuk-tuk and hugged him and felt his body shake—and mine to follow—with big, heaving sobs. Then he broke down again as he hugged Karen and met Kerala and Talia for the first time. Like me, a larger belly, his grey beard to match my grey mustache, but indisputably Raymond. This was a promising beginning, what felt at once like the next moment in a long 32-year day and an unexpected chance to resume a friendship after so much had happened in-between—the long trail of marriages, births, deaths and day following day as we spun out the threads of our destinies. When I asked about seeing Sainaba and Narayana, he said, “I’ve already arranged it.” And indeed, he had. 

 

At that time, Raymond, when asked about his religion, answers,  “I am a member of the Human Religion. Take care of the poor, comfort the afflicted.” When we met him at 35 years old, his wife taught school and he seemed aimless, happy just to hang out with us. Soon after, he got some bit parts in movies, often as the villain. And now he had arrived at this new place in his life, volunteering his time to help the needy.

 

Yesterday I got a Facebook message from his son that Raymond had passed on after a short illness. At my age, this kind of news is far too commonplace, but I must say that this one really hurt. Since our visit in 2011, we didn’t keep in touch via e-mail and such, but I often thought about him, always with great affection, appreciation and love. 

 

Raymond liked to tell the story of our send-off at the Shornur train station back in 1979. I was distraught that I had nothing to give to him to remember me by and vice-versa, so right there in the station, we traded shirts. And this somehow symbolized the life he was living now, willing to give the shirt off his back to help those who might need it. And I’d like to think that I would too. Or at least give it to Raymond.

 

I still have that shirt, but now I don’t have Raymond. I’m imagining all his friends in the Other World gathering to meet him and as he enters this new world, they hug him and ask what he needs and tell him, “We will arrange.”