My first and the most profound memories of Br Dennis are related to his time at Punganur. It was during a summer formation programme held at Punganur (I think in 2003 or so) that I met and interacted with Br Dennis for the first time. Initially when he addressed us, practical trainees, during Goodnight talks in the summer formation programme in Punganur, I hardly understood anything at all. I thought I was the only one not to get him, only years later to learn from my companions that most of them too were no better than me in understanding his talks. However, interacting with him in person, individually, was a different matter. I understood and appreciated better the little he said. Not that his language was articulate, but his expressions were! Very much like his name-sake cartoon strip, Dennis-the-menace! Short, laden and sharp.
Since that first interaction, the name 'Br Dennis' was no more just a name. There was a face to it. A known person behind it. Though I never lived with him in the same community, we did meet occasionally and for brief encounters. With his short and whacky haircut, stout stature and that wobbling gait he always stood out among the rest. My appreciation for Br Dennis grew when I was in the Provincial house, as the secretary and I heard his ayurvedic doctor, whom he used to meet once in a way for treatment of his legs, say that the condition of his legs was due to constant hard labour – with utter disregard for his own body! His long years of hard relentless work in the fields was catching up with him. And this time, his leg wouldn't let him outrun the strain and pain.
My most profound memory of him brings me back again to Punganur. This time in 2015 – by this time he was away from Punganur for quite some time. During the few months that I spent in the community there, I occasionally went out into the fields to lend a helping hand with the farm work or repair of the motors. On several such occasions, I ran into some of the neighbouring farmers. Striking a conversation with them, one name that would come up constantly and with great admiration, was that of Br Dennis. The local farmers there still remember him as a true farmer. Someone whom they connected with, more as 'of their own kind' rather than an aristocratic clergy or academic. Some of them even disliked him because he proved more efficient at farming than they did!
These few and scattered interactions with those who knew and worked with him, and with Br Dennis himself brought out for me certain characteristics of a true Salesian Brother – totally dedicated to his duty and responsibilities, greatly passionate about manual labour, and for better or for worse, with the Salesian community. He never felt bad about not being in the elite white-collared rung of society (civil or Salesian). He was perfectly at home with the mud and crops and the rugged TVS which carried him and the farm produce to the market! No huge construction or financial project or erudite book may bear his name, but his rugged strong hands and his wonky feet bear testament to his dedication and passion – constant, prolonged and total. His personal needs were very very limited – and those who knew him, know exactly what they were! Thus besides the community life and his responsibilities there was hardly anything at all that distracted – or attracted – him!
For me, he leaves behind a legacy of hard work, immersed community life and detached sense of living one's religious life. And of course, his sharp witty sense of humour! For this and much more, I feel honoured to have known him in my lifetime.
Since that first interaction, the name 'Br Dennis' was no more just a name. There was a face to it. A known person behind it. Though I never lived with him in the same community, we did meet occasionally and for brief encounters. With his short and whacky haircut, stout stature and that wobbling gait he always stood out among the rest. My appreciation for Br Dennis grew when I was in the Provincial house, as the secretary and I heard his ayurvedic doctor, whom he used to meet once in a way for treatment of his legs, say that the condition of his legs was due to constant hard labour – with utter disregard for his own body! His long years of hard relentless work in the fields was catching up with him. And this time, his leg wouldn't let him outrun the strain and pain.
My most profound memory of him brings me back again to Punganur. This time in 2015 – by this time he was away from Punganur for quite some time. During the few months that I spent in the community there, I occasionally went out into the fields to lend a helping hand with the farm work or repair of the motors. On several such occasions, I ran into some of the neighbouring farmers. Striking a conversation with them, one name that would come up constantly and with great admiration, was that of Br Dennis. The local farmers there still remember him as a true farmer. Someone whom they connected with, more as 'of their own kind' rather than an aristocratic clergy or academic. Some of them even disliked him because he proved more efficient at farming than they did!
These few and scattered interactions with those who knew and worked with him, and with Br Dennis himself brought out for me certain characteristics of a true Salesian Brother – totally dedicated to his duty and responsibilities, greatly passionate about manual labour, and for better or for worse, with the Salesian community. He never felt bad about not being in the elite white-collared rung of society (civil or Salesian). He was perfectly at home with the mud and crops and the rugged TVS which carried him and the farm produce to the market! No huge construction or financial project or erudite book may bear his name, but his rugged strong hands and his wonky feet bear testament to his dedication and passion – constant, prolonged and total. His personal needs were very very limited – and those who knew him, know exactly what they were! Thus besides the community life and his responsibilities there was hardly anything at all that distracted – or attracted – him!
For me, he leaves behind a legacy of hard work, immersed community life and detached sense of living one's religious life. And of course, his sharp witty sense of humour! For this and much more, I feel honoured to have known him in my lifetime.
