Category: Delhi

The ubiquitous blue road signs hang large on city intersections, flyovers and tower over the roads which lie like run-over snakes heaving the last few breaths. These signs fascinate visitors or tourists new to the city goading them to choose a direction and set out to explore. Waiting for the traffic light to turn green I read one of those looming above us. The left most read Marina, the right most with a crooked arrow indicated TT Nagar, the one in the centre held my eye and beamed a flash transporting me back to 1987. Numangbakam High Road, the sign grinned, as if winking at me. Well aware that it will force me to take the straight road i blinked and looked away digging deep in memories of a small hotel. A modest room with its window opening to the east spilled the morning light over light green painted wall. A round, polished table lying under the window reflected and cut the sunlight making semi circular shadows on the large bed. A​ mother holding her two year old child was sitting at the bed anxiously looking at a bowl which was left on the bed by a steward who had been tipped liberally. The little one repeatedly took her tiny left hand over her hairless head which had recently gone through the rights of offering her silky locks to the deity. Lifting the sparkling moonlight I placed her on the round table directly in line with the sunlight. It was less of a ritual and more to soothe the tender skin that handful of curd was rubbed on the tender pate which looked translucent red in morning light. The camera in my hand went click-click a few times and the moment was captured for eternity. I saw that picture call out to me from the signboard today. It was Nungambakkam High Road where all that had happened years ago.

Aside: the trip was from October 7 to 9, 2023 with Titoo and Sunny primarily to watch India-Australia cricket match as a part of ICC World Cup 2023.

Armed with a bamboo ink pen and a steady hand, Ethiopian Orthodox priest Zelalem Mola carefully copied text in the ancient Ge’ez language from a religious book onto a goatskin parchment.

This painstaking task is preserving an ancient tradition, all the while bringing him closer to God, the 42-year-old said.

At the Hamere Berhan Institute in Addis Ababa, priests and lay worshippers work by hand to replicate sometimes centuries-old religious manuscripts and sacred artwork.

The parchments, pens and inks are all prepared at the institute, which lies in the Piasa district in the historic heart of the Ethiopian capital.

Yeshiemebet Sisay, 29, who is in charge of communications at Hamere Berhan, said the work began four years ago.

“Ancient parchment manuscripts are disappearing from our culture, which motivated us to start this project,” she said.

The precious works are kept mainly in monasteries, where prayers or religious chants are conducted using only parchment rather than paper manuscripts.

“This custom is rapidly fading. … We thought if we could learn skills from our priests, we could work on it ourselves, so that is how we began,” Yeshiemebet said.

‘It’s hard work’

In the institute’s courtyard, workers stretch goatskins tightly over metal frames to dry under a weak sun.

“After the goatskin is immersed in the water for three to four days, we make holes on the edge of the skin and tie it to the metal, so that it can stretch,” Tinsaye Chere Ayele said.

With two other colleagues, the 20-year-old carried out his task using a makeshift scraper, seemingly oblivious to the stench emanating from the animal hide.

Once clean and dry, the skins will be stripped of their goat hair and then cut to the desired size for use as pages of a book or for painting.

Yeshiemebet said most of the manuscripts are commissioned by individuals who then donate them to churches or monasteries.

Some customers order small collections of prayers or paintings for themselves to have “reproductions of ancient Ethiopian works”, she said.

“Small books can take one or two months. If it is a collective work, large books can take one to two years.

“If it’s an individual task, it can take even longer,” she said, leafing through books clad in red leather, their texts adorned with brightly coloured illuminations and religious images.

Sitting in one of the institute’s rooms with parchment pages placed on his knees, Zelalem patiently copied a book titled Zena Selassie (History of the Trinity).

“It is going to take a lot of time,” the priest said. “It’s hard work, starting with the preparation of the parchment and the inks. This one could take up to six months to complete.”

“We make a stylus from bamboo, sharpening the tip with a razor blade.”

The scribes use different pens for each colour used in the text – black or red – and either a fine or broad tip. The inks are made from local plants.

‘Talking to saints and God’

Like most other religious works, Zena Selassie is written in Ge’ez.

This dead language remains the liturgical language of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church, and its alpha syllabic system – in which the characters represent syllables – is still used to write Ethiopia’s national language Amharic as well as Tigrinya, which is spoken in Tigray and neighbouring Eritrea.

“We copy from paper to parchment to preserve [the writings] as the paper book can be easily damaged while this one will last a long time if we protect it from water and fire,” Zelalem said.

Replicating the manuscripts “needs patience and focus. It begins with a prayer in the morning, at lunchtime and ends with prayer.”

“It is difficult for an individual to write and finish a book, just to sit the whole day, but thanks to our devotion, a light shines brightly within us,” Zelalem added.

“It takes so much effort that it makes us worthy in the eyes of God.”

This spiritual dimension also guides Lidetu Tasew, who is in charge of education and training at the institute, where he teaches painting and illumination.

“Spending time here painting saints is like talking to saints and to God,” the 26-year-old said.

“We have been taught that wherever we paint saints, there is the spirit of God.”

On his 15th death anniversary I recall and relive his passing away the following piece I wrote for the memorial meeting my brother Jawahar held at his place in Toronto, Canada. Dad passed away on 29th July 2008.

Continue reading “Remembering Daddy” →