Church of St. Joseph and St. Philomena, Mysore, Karnataka

“A good traveler is the one who does not know where he is going to, and a perfect traveler is the one who does not know where he came from.”

– Lin Yu-tang, Chinese writer (1895-1976)

Soon enough, in slightly less than a month from now to be precise, it’s going to be the four-year anniversary of “Pixelated Memories”. It really is tremendously hard to believe that it has been such a painstakingly long, long time travelling and writing. Equally difficult is the dazzling comprehension about the numerous gorgeous places I’ve been to, the infinite number of fascinating people I’ve encountered, inexplicable emotions felt, colorful souvenirs and photographs collected, and most importantly, bewitching memories cherished. As mentioned once previously on this blog, the journey hasn’t always been easy – I’ve often been utterly frustrated by the lack of inspiration (writer’s block!) or the paucity of sufficient funds and enthusiastic companionship. There have been n number of times when I had to grudgingly ask myself if I wanted to eat better or drift further – and more often than not, travelling triumphed – it is somehow unreservedly preposterous to stay at one place and miss out on wandering around and admiring the magnificent landscapes that nature benevolently studded this country with and the hundreds of spellbinding colossal edifices that mankind constructed in his persistent zeal for unparalleled renown and architectural immortality. Of course, there is also the considerable pressure of maintaining a thoroughly-detailed memoir, a journal of all my sojourns and musings which I can refer to when I’m old and senescent and incapable of pinning names on the photographs I’m clicking now. Or perhaps not trustful enough to accept that massive Gothic palaces and outstanding cathedrals – like the unbelievably beautiful Church of St. Joseph and St. Philomena – could exist in this part of the world as well.

Singular - The Church of St. Joseph and St. Philomena

Inspired by the Cologne Cathedral of Germany and constructed in 1936 in the Neo-Gothic style of architecture, St. Philomena’s Church (as it is popularly referred to) can unarguably be regarded as one of the defining landmarks of the magnificent city of Mysore. Capturing brightly illuminating rays of sunshine in its numerous painted glass windows and stretching its painstakingly carved, 175-feet tall twin towering spires in a remarkable attempt to touch the sky, the handsome church dominates the beautiful city’s skyline and generously reflects upon the extraordinary amalgamation of different faiths, cultures and architectural styles that the Wadiyar/Wodeyar Dynasty (reign AD 1399-1947 over most of Karnataka and parts of Andhra Pradesh, Tamil Nadu and Kerala) impressively achieved. The present edifice, an exceptional epitome of Gothic architecture and its fascinating visual impact especially in an undeniably foreign setting, is located at the site of an earlier wooden church that was consecrated in AD 1843 and was commissioned by the then sovereign H.H. Maharaja Sri Mummadi Krishnaraja Wadiyar III (reign AD 1799-1868) for the British Catholic soldiers posted at nearby military town of Seringapatnam to pray at. The legend inscribed on the foundation stone of the original church read –

“In the name of that only God – the universal Lord who creates, protects, and reigns over the universe of Light, the mundane world and the assemblage of all created lives – this church is built 1843 years after the incarnation of Jesus Christ, the Enlightenment of the World, as man."

Exemplar!

Upon the request of Father Cochet, the second church was commissioned in 1933 by H.H. Maharaja Sri Nalwadi Krishnaraja Wadiyar IV (reign AD 1894-1940) to house the sacred relics of St. Philomena of Greece that his personal secretary T. Thumboo Chetty had obtained in 1926. The designs were prepared by a French architect remembered only as Daly (next to nothing is known about him and his credentials) and the construction was overseen by Bishop Rev. Rene Feuga (Parish priest, 1831-41). The structure was consecrated in 1936 and dedicated to St. Philomena (lived AD 291-304), the martyred Greek princess who had committed her life and love to God and took a vow of consecrated virginity at the tender age of 13 years (soon thereafter, the Roman Emperor Diocletian cruelly threatened to destroy her father’s kingdom, relented only after he inconsiderately decided to marry her on a whim and, unnervingly infuriated at her continued refusal, had her barbarically tortured and mercilessly decapitated). Numerous churches and cathedrals have been commissioned throughout the world since after the discovery of her sacred remains in the year 1802 in Rome and her cult remains particularly strong in the Indian state of Karnataka where several charitable institutions and hospitals are financed and managed by religious organizations associated with her name. On the fronts of faith and belief however, recent archaeological developments and historical literary records and practices have cast deep doubts over whether the hallowed relics brandished throughout the world as the martyred child’s are actually hers – the hollowed rock mausoleum where they were found bore the Latin inscription “pax tecum Filumena” (“Peace with you, Philomena”), however placed deliberately in an incorrect manner which was generally accomplished by medieval clergy and church functionaries to indicate the reuse of a mausoleum for a second burial.

Sublime!

This, and the numerous scientific papers questioning the veracity of the accounts of St. Philomena’s life and the Vatican’s refusal to venerate and canonize her as a saint, of course do not in the slightest deter the faithful nor do they erase the honorific “Saint” affixed preceding her name. Be that as it may, the church in Mysore is definitely unique, not merely because it is a singularly focused entity in terms of its architectural inspiration in a visually heterogeneous city otherwise renowned for its eclectic edifices conceived to blend in numerous styles and symbolic motifs, but also because it is a rare example of the cultural and architectural synergy that is becoming so drastically threatened to extinction in these troubled times – commemorating a Greek saint, financed by a Hindu King and designed following German architectural ethos by an unknown French architect for British soldiers to worship in!

The colossal church is built in the shape of an enormous cross and its two remarkably gorgeous towers pierce the sky towering over the peaceful green crowns of surrounding trees and the roofs of the neighborhood houses and can easily be recognized from rooftops around for several kilometers. The immensity of the soaring towers however do pose the often encountered (and immediately sympathized with!) extreme difficulty involved in attempting to photograph the entire massive structure justifiably well – I too was forced to click most of the photographs in portrait orientation despite my near aversion to. It need not be mentioned that Gothic edifices are always a source of wide-eyed fascination given that very few exemplar specimens were ever built in the vast subcontinent – the church here is definitely an epitome of the same.

Graphic!

The entire vertical immensity is finely balanced by stone buttresses, as is common with most Gothic structures, especially cathedrals, of such grand proportions. The massive structure is flanked on either side by two large sculptures (although visually dwarfed by the towers’ gigantism) composed of flawless white marble. The first is that of St. Philomena, appearing immaculate celestial and depicted with a substantially heavy anchor by her side and a small arrow clutched in her hand (proclaimed symbols of her unflinching martyrdom since she was repetitively tormented (and miraculously saved) by being fired upon with arrows and drowned tied to heavy anchors). The second portrays a bearded and robed St. Joseph, the husband of Mary (Jesus’s mother), triumphantly holding in his arms a baby Jesus – for some mysterious reason, and puzzlingly so, everybody omits St. Joseph’s name from the church’s when referring to it. The expansive grounds adjoining the leviathan church building also house the offices and residential quarters of the Order’s clergy and a school run under their aegis. Photography is prohibited within the church (and the housekeeping staff does very strictly implement the same), however the Father there generously, and quite instantaneously, granted me the requisite permissions and even had a caretaker show me around and point out the consecration stones and commemorative tablets pertaining to the Bishops interred herein and the gorgeous, vividly multihued stained glass windows. The devotees being very much Indian here, one does notice the practice, same as one would in a mosque or a temple, of leaving one’s footwear outside before stepping into the premises.

Hallowed!

Apart from the numerous dexterously carved sculptures and bewitching scenes from Jesus’s life and tribulations and the twelve most significant occurrences in his short life painted on small wooden panels, one cannot fail being impressed by the numerous colorful, brilliantly-lit dioramas, painstakingly crafted sculptures (wreathed with flower garlands and fairy lights!) and the overall striking symmetry and immediately noticeable gracefulness of the architecture. The perspective unity introduced by the handsome Corinthian pillar shafts culminating into gorgeous bouquets of Acanthus blossoms before converging into soaring pointed arches no doubt spectacularly contributes to the effect. Numerous captions painted on wooden tablets adorn the walls to create a rather crowded mishmash of wooden boards and plastic fixtures, among them –

“Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.

Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses,

as we forgive those who trespass against us.
Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil:
For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever and ever.
Amen.”

Closer to the altar is a narrow staircase leading down to a small subterranean chamber harshly lit with fluorescent lights – here, in the likeness of a beautiful blonde damsel lying prone within a glass and wood case, surrounded by numerous flower vases are contained the remains of St. Philomena – legend goes that soon after the discovery of the bone dust remains, the same multiplied to a large amount and could therefore provide for hundreds of deeply venerated repositories throughout the world! Hoping for spiritual blessings, financial prosperity and physical and matrimonial well being, devotees leave offerings of coins and currency down a large well-like opening adjoining the highly realistic casket.

Tragedy!

On either side exist very dimly-lit narrow passages lined with black-grey stone slabs engraved with the names of hundreds of thousands of faithful who chose to be buried in crypts in the vicinity of the saint’s mortal remains – among them the Maharani of Bajang (Nepal) who lies interred so very far from her kingdom! Sadly though, visitors have vandalized these too with grotesquely etched love letters and hieroglyphs. Walking through the cool, dark passages is definitely a strange experience full of strange morbid sensations – the uninterrupted loneliness, the sudden intense feeling of walking subterranean amongst the dead, the deeply evocative darkness intermittently punctured by shards of orange-yellow light emitted by low-wattage incandescent bulbs – at the same time one does not wish to walk into the blinding illumination outside and is also inexplicably afraid to stay. But walk back to the sunshine one does. The dead are not going anywhere. For the rest, life must go on.

Spooky!

Open: Everyday, 5 am – 6 pm
Mass timings: Monday-Saturday: 5.30 am, 6.15 am, 7 am and 4 pm; Sundays: 5 am, 6 am, 7 am, 8 am, 9 am and 4 pm
Nearest bus stop: Suburban sto
How to reach: Walk or avail a bus/auto from Suburban bus stop (850 meters away) or City bus stop (1.8 kilometers away).
Entrance fees: Nil
Photography/Video charges: Nil. But prohibited within the church.
Time required for sightseeing: 1 hr
Relevant Links -
Other monuments/landmarks located in Mysore - 

1. Pixelated Memories - Mysore Palace
2. Pixelated Memories - Seringapatnam (Mandya)
3. Pixelated Memories - Sri Chamundeshwari Temple

Suggested reading - 

1. Wikipedia.org - Philomena
2. Wikipedia.org - St. Philomena's Church, Mysore

St. John's Church, Calcutta

Located in the heart of Calcutta’s heritage zone, St. John’s Church is surrounded by several famous landmarks of the city including the mighty Writer’s Building & Raj Bhavan, the peaceful Andrew’s Church & Sacred Heart Church & the enchanting Dalhousie Square. & yet it remains one of the most serene spots in the entire city, untouched by visitors who might write love letters on its walls & hidden from the prying eyes of passerbys. Old, crumbling & cut off from the rest of the city, yet beautifully maintained, it hides several treasures in its bosom. The blackened, yellow walls & shutters, surrounded by memorials & mausoleums set in a garden of flowering trees & bushes, filled with birds & cats, seem inviting. The graves – old, yet still showing signs of their erstwhile magnificence - hold ancient stories within themselves, revealed only to the most obstinate of travellers.

St. John's Church

That particular day I was alone, no friend accompanied me to Calcutta, walking through the old lanes & bylanes & checking my hand-made maps for directions & asking shopkeepers & pedestrians when my maps misled me, I finally walked in St. John’s Church. A signboard outside it detailed its history, old walls reminded me of several structures that I have seen during my travels, each with its own story. This one seemed special, it invoked silence around itself, despite being located in a commercial neighbourhood. Cars did not honk much here, dogs did not bark. I walked around the church’s hallowed grounds, alone, not even a soul in sight. This was good, I could photograph it as much as I wanted, from different angles, different perspectives. The grounds were recently watered, yet no gardeners were in sight. Only a small family with a lady doing laundry & kids playing nearby in a corner. They did not pay any attention to me, nor did I to them. It seemed we were the only people left in the entire world, there was no other sound from the outer world. & yet we stood obvious to each other. A whitish grave on one side of the church caught my attention. The headstone proclaimed it belonged to Michael Knatchbull, Viceroy of Bengal. A heavy stone cross stood looking over it.

Michael Knatchbull's grave

Walking further, I gazed at the line of coconut trees on one side, proudly displaying their green fruit. On the opposite side was a row of gleaming cars, perhaps people just park their cars here, the entire place was empty as I said. I glanced at the drivers, many dozing off on the grass under the bright sun, some smoked, others gossiped. As earlier I moved ahead, I did not know if photography inside would be permitted, so wanted to take as much photographs from outside as possible. I noticed a small section of the garden walled, the gate perennially open. A few white structures stood inside. As I progressed, out came a small kitten, rolling around, smelling at the flowers, gazing at me in silent contemplation, perhaps wondering who this intruder was. It came close, yet maintained its distance, allowed me to sit even closer & take as many snaps as I wanted. The drivers started laughing boisterously as I crouched to photograph the kitten. Perhaps they did not know that it was his (or her??) land, his jungle. It sat there, imploring me to click more, but as soon as I tried to pat it, it sprung & retreated, not showing itself again that day. 

Along the diagonal..

I entered through the gates, perhaps this was the cat’s home, I could see several snake holes all around in the bushes. On one side of me stood two memorial tablets, one with a triangular head, and the other in a stair-pattern with three differently sized stones. I read what they had to say, prosaic & sad, they were perhaps built by near & dear ones on the passing away of a family member or may be a regimental acquaintance, after all St. John’s is one of the first churches to be built in Calcutta by the British East India Company. Job Charnock’s tomb, a diminutive, octagonal structure with a dome for a roof stood in the centre of the walled garden (refer Pixelated Memories - Charnock's Tomb). Charnock, a trader with the British East India Company, is supposedly the guy who established the city of Calcutta by combining three neighbouring cities into one & established the Company’s stronghold there (a claim that has since been rejected following an order by Calcutta High Court, refer to the post about the Tomb for details). In here are also buried Charnock’s wife & several others. I stepped outside again, that harsh sunlight again blinding me. I looked down, there was an iron plate down there, I push aside the soil & fallen leaves, there were more graves all around the memorial. I was standing over them. Forgotten, covered with compost & decay, unlike Charnock who lies in his tomb next to them. Are spirits & the dead also rich & poor, I wonder. I walk away, how long can I stay with the dead, they don’t speak. Nearby are other memorials too, this place is littered with them. There is a memorial dedicated to Lady Francis Johnson (refer Pixelated Memories - Lady Johnson's Memorial), another dedicated to the Second Rohilla War (refer Pixelated Memories - Rohilla War Memorial), & a third dedicated to the “Black Hole” tragedy of Calcutta (see Pixelated Memories - Black Hole Memorial). There is also the tomb of Admiral Watson, who helped Lord Clive of the East India Company capture Bengal after the Black Hole tragedy.

The walled garden, filled with several mausoleums & tombs

I notice many pigeons flocking to overhead electrical wires near Charnock’s Tomb, they cooed but their voices were lost before reaching me. I look at the church. Nothing, no sound, no soul in sight. I head to it. Its spire rose high, I look up but am again blinded by the sun. The large clock on the 174-feet high spire ticking slowly, even time seemed to stop here. I start observing the architecture of the church – designed with a Greek touch by military architect Lt. James Agg, the church was built with stone & brick (hence often referred in Bangla as the “Pathare Girja” or “The Stone Church”) mostly derived (or as many say, robbed) from the ruins of Gaur in 1787 on land donated by a local lord Maharaja Naba Krishna Deba. The church’s large square base, & the pillared portico look impressive. Lt. Agg was good at what he did. Lost in these & several other thoughts, & clicking pictures here & there, I move ahead. The entrance was on the other side. 

The Stone Church

Before reaching the entrance I see another grave-like memorial sitting in the church’s corridor. This one was skilfully sculpted, a glorious cross stood over it. It belonged to Lady Charlotte Canning, the wife of Charles Canning, the first Viceroy of India (refer Pixelated Memories - Lady Canning Memorial). She died of malaria & lies buried in nearby suburb of Barrackpore. But this memorial was designed elaborately & constructed in the corridor of the church. I photograph it & step down the staircase.

Charlotte Canning's memorial

The entrance seems far, I find pleasure in the wonderful gardens, fragrant flowers spread cheers around, yet the place seems desolate, the air heavy. At the entrance is a big visitor’s book kept on a stand, its torn pages fluttering with the breeze as if some invisible being was turning them over to find some reference. Scrawled comments & signatures graced its pages. Many were illegible. As I entered the entrance, I saw a room on either side – the right one barred by a large, carved wooden board (more on it later), the other open. A man sat stooped in his chair, pen in hand, writing furiously in the latter room. I knock, no response. I knock again. He welcomes me in, offers me a chair, and asks the purpose of my visit. He too found it a matter of extreme importance that someone was visiting this long lost place.

Inside St. John's Church (Notice the secondary arch on the right side & the golden-ish painting on the left of the altar)

I tell him who I am, what I do. Satisfied, he grants me permission to photograph inside the Church. Cheerfully I leave, the prayer chamber is huge, painted white, its walls covered with epitaphs (mainly of army officers and civil servants besides other prominent citizens) & sculptures. I look around, not sure what to photograph & what to leave. Blue-paned windows usher in sun’s rays to lighten the chairs & benches. An organ starts playing as I step on the aisle. Confused, I look here & there, not sure where the sound is coming from. It seemed as if the entire hall was vibrating. My heart thumping, I regain my composure. Two pretty foreigners sit in the front rows, reading quietly from their hymn books. I walk ahead, we talk. I notice the monstrous pipe-organ besides the altar. I ask the ladies if going in is allowed. They did not know. I started photographing the altar, it was beautiful - a blue-painted arched wall covered with a row of golden paintings. More flowers & candles on the altar, a golden cross graced the table. 

The Altar view

The altar was flanked by a shallow arch on its right side. Angels with folded hands guarded the arch & splendid stained glass windows depicting scenes from Christ’s life adorned it. The left side had a painting similar to Da Vinci’s “Last Supper”. But the characters seemed different, the props were different. The only character unmistakeable was that of Mary Magdalene sitting next to Jesus. I later read that this rendition of the “Last Supper” was created by England-based German artist Johann Zoffany. It is said that the artist scandalized the elite of that time by representing various known British personalities as Jesus & his disciples in this image.

Colorful..

I photograph as much as I can, then notice the organ player smiling at me. He steps down. An old, crippled man, he uses a stick as a walking aid. I acknowledge his presence with a smile & continue with photographing the church interiors. The two ladies come & talk to him, they move to a window & point out directions, and then they leave. 

John, the church's organ-player

The old man comes to me, asks my name & where I was from. I compliment him for the wonderful music he played. His name too was John, he says like the Church, I say like the saint. He tells me how he got crippled & asks me if I have taken as many photographs as I wanted for my writings. He then leads me to Warren Hastings room. It was the room right to the entrance, the door of which was barred with the wooden board. He switches on the lights (instructing me to switch them off when I am done). Warren Hastings was one of the Governor-Generals of British-ruled India. His room has been restored exactly to what it used to look like when he used it, & is decked with framed photographs hanging on the walls, old Bibles, wooden cupboards & furniture. A chair is placed in a sealed glass case, the inscription reads that it is the actual chair used by Hastings himself, since then preserved in its original condition. After I am done, I go back to the prayer hall, it seems much grander, yet lonelier without John & the foreigners. A wooden arching staircase on the right connects the first floor, I climb up but the door is locked. I step down again & look around one last time. The mighty organ was silent now, so was everything around again. Nothing, no sound, no soul in sight.

Hasting's room

I walk out again, silently contemplating the fates of numerous people buried here, hoping I come here again. Hoping then this beautiful place shows more signs of life, when people too tread its grounds along with the kittens.

Goodbye, dear friend!!

Location: BBD Bagh area. Walking distance from Raj Bhavan, the residence of Governor of Bengal.
Nearest Metro Station: Esplanade Metro Station
How to reach: One can simply walk from either Esplanade Bus Terminus or Raj Bhavan. Or take a taxi.
Open: All days, 10 am – 5 pm
Sunday service: 8–9 am
Entrance Fee: Rs 10 (for visitors on foot, you have to pay more for parking)
Photography/Video Charges: Nil
Time required for sight seeing: 1.5 hrs
Relevant Links - 

1. Pixelated Memories - Black Hole Memorial
2. Pixelated Memories - Charnock's Tomb
3. Pixelated Memories - Lady Canning Memorial
4. Pixelated Memories - Lady Johnson's Memorial
5. Pixelated Memories - Rohilla War Memorial
6. Pixelated Memories - Sacred Heart Church
7. Pixelated Memories - St. Andrew's Church
8. Pixelated Memories - Writers' Building

Suggested Reading - 

1. Deccan Herald - Article "Much loved and always interesting" (dated January 13, 2008)
2. The Telegraph - Article "Wicked man on the wall" (dated January 3, 2010) by Samhita Chakraborty