February 8, 1978

It was Ash Wednesday.

The agonizing bleats of the goat kept ringing in my years. The Vet had already visited and could find nothing amiss.  All he could say was something wrong in the blood.  By dawn, it had died.  we were indeed very sorry.  The goat was expecting her kids in a few days.  She used to provide us with plenty of milk and was quite tame and affectionate.

I attended church for the early Mass and the disturbance in my mind was quieted as Ashes fell on my forehead followed by the priest’s words, “Thou art dust and to dust thou shalt return”.  Returning from the church, I was immersed in my daily routines.  Breakfast of coffee, iddlies with chutney, eggs sunny-side up and toasts were soon served.  my husband’s lunch was packed.  Soon after he left for college, my son followed him and the younger daughters left for the Convent school nearby.

I was alone with the maid and hurriedly prepared rice, sambar, tender jackfruit thoran (a dry curry with shredded coconut) and fried pappadums.  Since it was a fasting and abstinence day, I had not eaten my breakfast and was glad to see my younger daughters arrive in time for the midday meal.  I served the meal for the family at the table and giving the maid her meal,  joined my children.  I felt quite tired and as the children went back to school and the maid left to feed her baby, I lay down to have a well deserved nap.  

Our house was situated in the middle of a large coconut grove.  It was a sandy area.  Besides the coconut trees, there were plenty of trees of mango, suppota, breadfruit, egg-fruit, cashew, cherry, starberry and banana.  So, the atmosphere was very cooling.

From November to March, coconut palm leaves were cut down, braided and dried.  It was indeed a beautiful sight- all braided and laid in order throughout the compound.  My eyelids grew heavy and fearing that I would fall asleep, I got up.  I did not like to sleep when I was alone in the house.  So I walked out of the house quite lazily and finding that the cow had nothing to eat, cut some banana leaves and gave them to her.  After fondling her, I walked away  to the braided palm leaves laid out.  The cool breeze had softened the heat of the sun and it was indeed very pleasant.

I walked enjoying the beauty of the symmetrically arranged braided palm leaves.  I pulled at one of the leaves, and finding that it was not fully dried, I put it aside.  Suddenly, a sting on my ankle as though a nail was struck hard!  “What was it?”  I pondered. I cast one terrified look at my ankle and  saw to my terror a snake that hissed dangling from foot.  Immediately, I shook off the snake from my foot.  It fell a few feet away and was struggling to disappear under the leaves.  It was the same spot that my goat was tied up the previous day and met its untimely death. I had another look at the snake. Why, it was a cobra!  I did not dare to look again.  My first impulse was to run to the house.  I scorched the thought because I became aware that my husband and children would find my dead body hours later when they come home remembering the potency of the cobra venom.   The very thought gave strength to my limbs.  I raised myself, repeating, “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews, save me from sudden death.  St, George, save me from these reptiles”.  I ran to the neighbouring house of my brother-in-law and sat down on the front steps holding my ankle tightly.

My niece was feeding the pomeranian in the kennels close by.  I called out to her, “Jessie, Bring me a string.  A snake has bit me on my leg”.  She ran into the house while calling out to her parents.  she came back with a string and a pair of scissors in no time.  She tried to tie the string around my leg with the string she brought.  Unfortunately, it kept breaking.  Now, it so happened that I had come across a strong and pretty string lying around in the debris after my second daughter’s wedding.  I had picked it up and tied it around my waist remarking that it might come in use if a snake bites me  for a tourniquet.  I took the pair of scissors and cut the string right through the skirt.   I tied the leg in three places below the knee.

Meanwhile, my brother-in-law and wife changed clothes and got ready and started the car.  Soon my younger son-in-law Sonny and his wife came running.  She was weeping and had  to be consoled.  I saw that this weeping is of no practical use and told her that she would be of greater help if she stayed at home and console my children when they come from school.  Thus I dissuaded  her from accompanying me whereas I  persuaded  Sonny to follow us on his motorbike.   Both brothers decided to take me to the native medicine Vaidhyar rather than to the Jubilee Mission Hospital in Thrissur as I had suggested.  But they dissuaded me saying that the hospital might have wanted to see the snake.  

At about 2:30 p.m.,  we arrived at the Vaidya Sala of Dr.  Pareed, an ancient Muslim who was one of the famous snake poison experts in the region.   As soon as he saw me, he asked me if there were three spots where the snake had bitten  and muttered, “It is a dreadful one”.  I was astonished as I could barely see the three spots and had noticed that the old man was blind.  He soon called his assistant and gave me a betel leaf with some additional medicines to chew and asked whether it was bitter.  I found it tasteless.  Later, a ground up paste (including pepper according to onlookers)  was applied  on my eyes.  But I felt no burning sensation.  He removed the strings tied on my legs.  This worried me  with the fear of the possibility of the poison  travelling up the blood.  I accepted it as their way of doing things.  He applied some medicinal oil on the bitten part of the leg.  Two or three streaks of red (poison?) were going up the leg.  Immediately, two women came and applying oil began to massage the leg downwards.  In spite of this,  the red streaks which were going down, started to go up again gradually until they reached the thigh where a big lump was formed.  The lump was massaged  down in vain.   At about 4 p,m,, my head started reeling gradually.  By then, my husband, my son, my neighbours and relatives arrived there  – about 300 in all sorts of vehicles.  I told the doctor, “In spite of all your  medicines, I am getting worse.  My head is  starting to reel.”.  He responded, “Don’t worry. There is something else to try.  Any way, you are talking quite a lot.  That alone is a good sign”.  A new medicine was prepared to make me sneeze.  However hard he tried, my nose appeared quite stubborn.  I did not sneeze at all.  He repeated all his mediciness – the betel leaf and pepper paste two more times to no avail.  By this time, I had fainted twice (This is hearsay – I was not aware).  As my head started to whirl violently, I sent my nephew to light a box of candles at the statue of Our Lady of Lourdes in front of our house.  In the neighbourhood, there were two convents and an orphanage; the prayers of the residents echoed and reechoed.  (How exactly can I thank them sufficiently)?

At 6p.m., Dr. Pareed told me that I was quite O.K. and could return home.  He started to write down the medicines to be administered when I reach home.  By this time, my head was in a moderate whirl; the eyelids had drooped so that I could not open my eyes without the help of my fingers.  My left leg had swollen to about 5 inches in diameter.  I told him, “Doctor, I won’t go home.  I am not well enough to do so.  Either you must tell me where I must go next or I will stay here and die.”.  This perplexed the old man.  He said, “I can do nothing more.  You can take her to Ottupara where my Guru is practising”.

By this time, Sonny returned home for fresh butter (cow’s) which the doctor had asked for.  When Sonny reached home, to his surprise, the servants had killed the cobra and put it in a kudam (an earthen pot used to carry water).   He took it with him to the Jubilee Mission Hospital where the doctor advised him to bring the patient immediately.  By the time he reached Dr. Pareed’s place, we had left for Ottupara.  

There were four cars accompanying us as we started that memorable journey.  I had my two fists clenched and I could only see things around me by lifting the eyelids by those clenched fists.  My leg – Oh! the agony I suffered!  The pains at the births of my five children were nothing compared to the pain in my leg.  My left leg was elevated and placed on the car seat.  That did not provide any ease.    I did not want to faint or fall asleep.  My feeling was that if I opened my fists, my strength  would leach and I might faint and eventually die.  The only feeling of comfort was that if I keep singing I would stay awake.  I  could sing!  In the dead of night,  all the way to the hospital, I started singing all sorts of hymns I had in my memory in several languages : English, Malayalam, Konkani, Kannada and Thulu.  In between I kept repeating “O Mary,   conceived without sin, pray for us.  Pray for us who have recourse to Thee”, “Hail Holy Queen of Heaven, Pray for the Wanderer” were my favorites.  When we reached Ottupara, the Guru was not there.  We met Sonny who was coming in search of us.  He directed us to the Mission Hospital.   It was 10:30 p.m. when we reached the hospital.

I was rushed into the hospital on a stretcher in a very exhausted state, my fists still clenched.  The doctor asked me to identify the snake from eight photos of snakes from our region in Kerala.    Apparently we did not need to capture the snake.  The cobra in the picture was black in color whereas the one that bit me was of bright  glossy brown whose back was glossy and shining in the sun.   It was a yard long with a hood that spanned 6 inches in width. It as enough that it was a cobra.

Soon after, four ampules of anti venom Serum was injected into me, after which I  vomited a lot, simultaneously excreting other waste matters such as urine.  My eyes slowly opened by themselves,  The drooped eyelids somehow found strength to open themselves and I felt that I was saved.  The doctor was feeling for my pulse.  I was still disoriented.  I caught hold of his arm,  mistaking him for my son and told him, ” This is not the time for you to feel my pulse.  Call the doctor.  Let him feel the pulse and take the blood pressure”.  To this the doctor replied, “Why, this is not your son, but I am seeing to it”.  I was a bit ashamed, but still continued, “Doctor, please see that I don’t die since my youngest daughter is only five years old and I don’t want to die so soon”.

I did not die. 

Later, we found out that the goat died from a snake bite.  The snake was probably depleted of most of its venom before it attempted on me.  The goat was the sacrifice!