When it comes to sharing stories I am a compulsive storyteller. I love reliving the most memorable moments of my life through them. And some of the best stories of my life come from the days when I was in college pursuing my engineering studies.
A particularly memorable person in that story was the Managing Director of the institute where I studied for 7 years: Fr Orlando Rodrigues. At the first glance, he is like any other priest you meet. But look a little longer, listen to him a while, be in his presence and you will know very quickly that he is something else entirely.
He has this magnetic persona that could calm a chaotic room and light up a dim situation. Highly respected, highly feared and highly loved by people who know him.
After leaving college, among the million memories were the images of Fr. Orlando addressing the students every morning during the college assembly (yes, we had college assembly which blend well with my morning blues) on topics raging from the latest snacks in the college canteen to his sojourns to different parts of the world and everything in between.
He played a key role in shaping my career as well. I remember when we diploma students had approached him to evaluate our prospects of getting admission into degree at Agnels Vashi, he tole us he will do everything possible to accommodate us. In a day and age when lesser mortals would have sold their engineering seats to the highest bidder, Fr Orlando chose to admit his 'children from diploma' and gave us the seats with no donations or development fees taken from us. He came to my rescue once again with a glowing recommendation for my admission process for my MBA program and even after 4 years of passing out could connect with me and relive the memories.
Some years later I got word that he had returned to college after having left for Goa to take care of his ailing brother. I took the opportunity to meet him and reminisce those days I spent in engineering. All along the way, I was sharing with my wife the laughter, the challenges and the victories we had in Agnels and the father-figure role Fr Orlando played in it. I was looking forward to chat with the man with a million stories to tell. To my shock and horror, all I found was a pale shadow of the man. He had suffered a brain hemorrhage and it caused a blood clot in that part of the brain that was responsible for language and words. There he was, a man who still had a million things and more to share, silent and lost in his diary at his desk where he once used to work and deliberate on important matters. The silence was deafening, it was eerie, it was disturbing.
Once again though his situation belied his mettle. In his silence, he displayed resilience and determination. In his posture, he held the victories and milestones he achieved all along the way, from building this institution literally with his bare hands to building its name as a premier education center. In his eyes, he harbored the million stories he continued to share with everyone he met. And as I left his presence and tears rolled down my face, I felt that same deep sense of learning we used to feel after meeting with him and listening to the stories of his extraordinary life. Even through his silence he told us a very brave story.
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