Z for Zavala, Ignacio Fr.

Father McKenzie,
Writing the words of a sermon that no one will hear,  
No one comes near, 
Look at him working..

Music fans will recognize these lyrics from the threnody “Eleanor Rigby”, one of The Beatles’ most haunting tunes. An oblique elegy to the mysterious namesake, the song is a poignant paean to loneliness, anonymity and death. Is it then any wonder that in the age of Covid19 when we are afraid of even our shadow (unless it has washed its hand in soap and water for the prescribed two happy-birthdays rendition length) this song could be perceived as a grim reminder of the stoic motto: memento mori. Instead, Father McKenzie reminded me of another priest, this one very much real, and also selfless, devoted and caring, someone who influenced my life and those of my schoolmates chronicled in my inaugural blog: our elementary school principal: Fr Ignacio Zavala, S.J.

Fr. Zavala at the school entrance*

Fr. Zavala was our school principal. But even before that, he was a visionary educator and artist who along with renowned architect Hasmukh Patel designed the campus of St Xaviers’ Loyola Hall in Ahmedabad to challenge existing notions of school buildings and their role in pedagogy. With provocative yet mesmerizing aesthetic sensibilities, the school architecture still inspires awe and imitation more than half a century later – and this in a town that boasts edifices designed by world renowned architects like Le Corbusier and Louis Kahn.

Fr. Zavala was more than just our teacher numero uno and school principal. He was also our scoutmaster, our chief mischief-inspirer, our fun-marshall. Between classes and before school, he encouraged us to solve puzzles, create art, read comics, toss around volleyballs, improvise our own indoor games using the geometrically inlaid hallways, or simply run screaming through the corridors at top speed. His pet turtles roamed our classrooms and every Friday he introduced us to Clint Eastwood westerns and riotous Bugs Bunny cartoons. We were allowed to hijack the school PA system so the daily news could be read in our high pitched pre-pubescent voices, or to play our favorite tunes from the collection of LPs he kept in his office. Decades later, anytime I hear the Henry Mancini composition “Baby Elephant Walk” I don’t marvel at the blues progression or the high notes on the Piccolo because in an instant I am eleven years old taking an incredibly refreshing break on a hot summer day after a head full of somewhat boring 6th grade English Grammar lessons.

Not having any other benchmarks in our young life, we always thought of this as “normal”…it wasn’t until much later when confronted with the grim realities of high school and college that we came to appreciate the Panglossian experience of our younger days and realized that what Fr. Zavala had gifted us was special and unique. By that time, it was too late, for Fr. Zavala was on his way back to Spain, and we would never see him again. This wholly inadequate tribute is closest to the eulogy that I never got to give when he passed away more than a decade ago.

And thus ends my own alphabet series on these pages. It is only fitting that a series that began with my Alma Mater, ends with one of the stalwarts responsible for shaping that outstanding institution of learning and character building. I have to admit to a sense of relief because what started off as a supposedly easy way to inspire the muse proved to be challenging, as the muse refused to deign and rise to the occasion simply because the dictionary page flipped from K-for-kyriolexy to L-for-labarum. So while the alphabet series is in the books, whether you pronounce it as Zee or Zed, Z is the tail of the English alphabet. I hope for my Z to instead be more like the Greek Z, zeta, which gets better product placement in the letter hierarchy – somewhere between epsilon and eta, and represents a solid middle rather than the bitter end!

Eleanor Rigby is the first Beatles song where none of the Beatles played an instrument (yes I will wait while you verify my heretic claim), yet this classic composition may be the perfect foil to these strange times foisted upon us by the Covid19 pandemic. Our lives have been upended such that most of us are not doing things we normally would be doing. Perhaps, just like the Fab Four, we should embrace the chance to think and behave differently – and who knows, the outcome may turn out to be rather remarkable.

* Fr. Zavala was a smoker, and in his defense, during an era and in a milieu when smoking was not only accepted but considered normal. If we inhaled some secondhand smoke, well, I release Fr. Z of all liability because what we simultaneously imbibed us was a love of learning, joy and laughter every single day of our school life, and a lifelong lesson to be of service to our fellow human beings regardless of our differences.

4 Comments Add yours

  1. pingaligopi says:

    Awesome Rashesh. Fantastic read.

    Like

  2. Upasana says:

    Rashesh… Your ode to your Alma Mater and Fr. Zavala invites so much nostalgia… I too knew him through my brother who studied under him and had the pleasure of meeting him…. What a personality! I loved your post on him…

    Like

  3. avantsa says:

    My first post on your blog, &I’ve started off with Z! It need not be ascending order all the time🙂
    When after all these years, if you’re holding fond memories of a Principal and write a blog post dedicated to him, and why not? Fr.Zavala seemed to be the best teacher/mentor, but also a Prinicipal, a child can have in those growing up years. You reminded me of my school/convent and such affectionate & disciplined Principals i had!! Lovely post, Rashesh,..and i have a tall order to complete to reach to A!!

    Like

  4. Kaivalya Rawal says:

    Very, very nicely written!

    Fr. Zavala returned to Spain when I was in Grade V. I vividly recall the ringing of my home phone on a quiet weekend afternoon during my summer break. It was Fr. Zavala on the other line, instructing me to come and visit him that week for he had “some news to share” with me. My parents rushed me to the school the next day, where Fr. broke the news of his return to Spain “that same week!” I was left flabbergasted, with no words, but only emotions to share. And that was my last contact with him. All my life, I made numerous attempts to track him down, but to no avail. I still carry that remorse.

    There are just a few people you come across in life who leave an abiding impression on our minds. Rev. Fr. Zavala, indeed, was that one for me! May his soul rest in eternal peace!

    I am curious to know if anyone was able to establish contact with Fr. Zavala after he left for Spain. I would be delighted to know what he did after he left Xavier’s and many other things.

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