Behind The Iron Grill: Memories With Aunt Corinne

As her aunt Corinne or Sister Mary Rita, a cloistered nun, turns 90, author Jacqueline Colaco writes about understanding her and her ultimate sacrifice through the years.

My aunt Sister Mary Rita of the Sacred Heart or Corinne as the family knows her, holds a unique place in my life. She is the only person I know who lives in a world different from the one in which most of us do and yet is so much at ease when interacting and reaching out in matters relating to it. Aunt Corinne, who turned 90 in July, lives in the Cloistered Carmel Convent in Bangalore. My aunt is part of our large PG D’Souza clan numbering around 375 and until a few years ago, had taken upon herself the cumbersome task as keeper of the family chronicle — meticulously recording details of new additions by birth or marriage and devoting a separate page in these precious journals for each member of the clan with a photo attached.

What’s life like in a Cloistered Convent? My aunt joined there at the age of 24. The nuns spend their days behind the four walls of the convent in mainly contemplative prayer and subsistence living, living a life of austerity and self-denial and not interacting with the outside world unless required. The aunt and the other nuns never step out unless for hospital visits and to vote.

Corinne as a young girl

My first memory of Aunt Corinne dates back to more than 60 years ago when she was a new nun and I a little girl with ringlets — clutching on to both my doll and mum Tilly for comfort — as I was taken to see this rather mysterious person who also happened to be my mum’s sister. Clad in a brown and white nun’s habit, it was difficult for me to imagine her as a person, though her tender voice was comforting. But she was beyond our approach and what a petrifying approach it was, at least to little me. Since she was in a Cloistered convent, we could only look at her through an iron grill with pointed spikes attached, her veiled face just about visible, as she stood squeezed between two stark black curtains behind the grill. This grill embedded in the wall between rooms separated her from us female visitors. If memory serves me right, no males were allowed, except her father and brothers. I remember too that occasionally she would turn her head aside to a ‘shadowy figure’ sitting next to her and share an explanation of the conversation. The figure (ghost-like in my child’s mind) would reply with a ‘Mais oui’ or a ‘bon, merci’, never seen by us, only heard. I later realized this was the French Reverend Mother (The convent was founded by French missionaries) whose presence was necessary as a chaperone in every visit. Later in 1973, this very same ‘ghostlike’ Reverend Mother kindly arranged for me to be the house guest of her genteel sister Mademoiselle Rochere in Paris while I was travelling in Europe.

To us children, the lure of these visits was so enormous that we would brave all the mystery and ghostliness attached to them

Sister Mary Rita now

for the ‘loot’ we’d bring home from Aunt Corinne, collected from a capacious drawer that slid through the wall beneath the grill and opened from her side and ours. She would fill it with magical stuff like medals and scapulars, rosaries and holy pictures. We children would fight over them for days on end and would begin to barter and exchange, but there was always plenty to go round.

What made my aunt choose this life, I wondered often as a young working woman, when it began to dawn on me the tremendous sacrifice she had made in choosing a path of absolute austerity and seclusion.

Aunt Corinne was attractive and accomplished. I had seen photographs of her in the fashion of the Fifties, in Magyar sleeves and flared skirts with broad belts; with hair swept back and high heels. I’ve heard she was very lively and had a lot of suitors too before she gave it all up for God. Who is this God I wondered and how had she found him at the tender age of twenty-something?

At that age, I was battling with the attractions of growing up and the choices were always confusing and conflicting vis-a-vis the strict family moral and religious values we lived with. These were the days when I began to admire my aunt’s courage as well as disregard her for her foolishness. Was being away from temptation the easiest path to discipline, I wondered, though I know now for sure that would not have been so for her. Human wants and desires remain the same whatever be the environment and it is only through years of hard work, that self-discipline and detachment are developed. It is something my aunt has embraced for over six decades and she radiates such a joy that it makes me truly feel that I have encountered God.

So how is meeting my aunt now? The convent’s rules are now more relaxed in keeping with the times and the dreaded grill too has no spikes though my aunt continues to be confined behind it. However, now visitors related or unrelated, male and female can visit and chat freely. The magic drawer of my childhood still exists for the stream of little ‘PG clan’ progeny who tag along with their parents. Some like me, who cannot visit often, have the pleasure of being able to call her and even send an email. From Gregorian chants, my aunt has moved to playing the keyboard, giving her a chance to revive her prowess on the piano as a young girl.

A visit to see her now. You can see the magic drawer in the photograph

Having her in my life has been a lesson in the simplicity of living, of caring for people by just communicating with them. Like her, I enjoy my garden and this Easter I proudly showed off the lovely blooms on the lily bulbs she gave me years ago. Most importantly, I’m learning the power of prayer and the acceptance of God’s will as being the best way to be cheerful about suffering and the difficult times in life, just the way she had the wisdom to discover so many decades ago.

All photographs courtesy the author. The featured image shows Corinne third from left among the girls at the back