If you travel along the coast of Tuticorin, you would come across many citadels like Virapandianpatnam, Amalinagar, Alantalai, Manapad, Periyathalai, Uvari and a few more. Though these villages sport a totally different look these days, the remnants of the rich heritage of religious fervour that still remains in these hamlets speak volumes of the life and style of our forefathers. Among the above villages, Manapad, my native place, stands out in grandeur for various reasons.
When you enter the village, you will be mesmerised by the sea surrounding the village and a lighthouse standing magnificently on a small hillock. Near the lighthouse, stands a five-century-year-old Holy Cross Church where a piece from the Holy Cross on which Jesus was crucified is reportedly kept. Next to the church there is a cave where St.Francis Xavier’s incorruptible body lies. This cave is declared a heritage monument by the Government of India. The village is also called a centre of culture as the knack for fine arts is an inborn trait in Manapadians. It gave birth to Manuel Demel who was not only a painter but also a sculptor. His beautiful works including mural paintings and life-size portraits that adorn the churches speak volumes of the artist par excellence.
There were also a number of poets such as Anthony Kutty Annaviyar and Inba Kavirayer whose voluminous poems have now been made into a compendium through sustained efforts by ‘Valampuri Natham’, a research organisation. Music was another lifeline for the villagers. Trained by European priests, they were well versed not only in western music but also in playing all types of musical instruments. Besides the above, the village had good sportsmen, scholars and architects. The beautiful houses in Manapad bear witness to the taste and aesthetic sense of the villagers. Every year, Christmas used to be the most celebrated season.
It would start with the postman coming to every household to check when the cakes sent by their family heads from abroad would arrive. This was necessary to alert the runners from the post office who had to carry such big parcels received by sea mail to Manapad. Our fathers had to place orders well in advance with companies in Colombo. Once the parcels arrive at our post office, the entire room would smell of cake. In turn, when the postman delivered the parcels to the houses, the entire village would become fragrant with the aroma of the Christmas cake. Gone are such lovely days but we still reminisce about them to revive the spirit of sharing in us.
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