On a date sometime in August that you never remember, you wake up bright and early (against your will of course) for the ‘Ormah Prarthna’ of your great grandparents.
In the Orthodox Christian faith they believe in remembering the dead once a year during their death anniversary. This remembrance involves an early morning service at the home church for the deceased, a visit to their grave, and finally, breakfast at their children’s home.
You hated these gathering, mostly because it involves going to an Orthodox Church to attend an Orthodox services. An Orthodox service is as close to legal torture as the bearded old men that conduct it can get.
“Christ has suffered and died for you, so you also must suffer; at least a little.”
The ritual begins with dragging yourself out of bed at 4 in the morning to have a shower and get ready. Thankfully your room is the only one in the house to have its own bathroom (your mother and brother share one) so you don’t have to worry about people banging on the door telling you to hurry up.
So inevitably you fall asleep while on the toilet only to be rudely awakened by someone banging on the door telling you to hurry up.
Finally getting ready in the 10 minutes you have left, frantically looking through your wardrobe for a T-shirt that won’t offend any of the aunties you meet at these gatherings.
You remember aunty #11 exclaiming “Etha endu pishashanmaru anu?!” (What are these demons?!) when she saw your Iron Maiden shirt last year. With a sigh you put that aside and pick out a plain green T-shirt.
You pile into the car along with the rest of the family, having to sit at the very last seat in the car where there isn’t enough legroom to fit a double amputee comfortably.
The ride is quite, thankfully, save for the muted sounds of stifled yawns coming from different corners of the car.
Finally arriving at the church you’re harshly reminded why you hate these services so much.
Kundherikum.
The Orthodox service uses a contraption called a ‘Kundherikum’ which is a bowl of incense with chains connected to it, swung around the church by a ‘kappiar’ or altar boy (who is inexplicable over 50).
There are three chains that attach this bowl to a curved handle —I’m told they represent the Father, Son and Holy Spirit— and 12 bells attached to it — which I’m told represent the 12 disciples of Jesus— that jingle every time it’s swung.
One of the chains have a little ring on it which attaches to a finger which allows the altar boy to open and close the lid of the Kundherikum.
The smoke hangs thick in the air and is ever added to by aforementioned 50 year old, who has an inexplicable vendetta against asthmatics.
Finding a spot close to a door or a window you make yourself comfortable, or a comfortable as you’re allowed to be. The torture I mentioned before was administered in way of not letting you sit down. There are pews in the church of course, but were only used for a brief five minutes during the entire two hour service.
Now all you have to do is wait this out.
comicsanslogic 