
The recitation ‘Jesus Christ is our saviour’ gets frantic. Not even the roar of the rough sea can drown this chanting. A tiny one room Pentecostal church in Muttom, about 15 km from Nagercoil in Tamil Nadu’s extreme south, is putting up a valiant struggle.
Ostracised for embracing the order, struggling for a livelihood and facing social boycott since 2002, 42 families of Kadiyapattanam are not giving up yet. The vice-like grip of the Roman Catholic Church over the 44 fishing hamlets across Kanyakmari’s picturesque coast is legendary. So, it is little wonder that Bishops and priests dictate religious leanings and even decide who the 20 per cent Christians in the district, spanning seven constituencies, should vote for, even if the ‘‘suggestion’’ is put across subtly at the Sunday Mass preceding Election Day.
In fact, it was the priest of the Rayappar Chinnappar Church in Kadiyapattanam who got KT Pachchaimaal (AIADMK), a Hindu, the ticket to contest again in the Colachal constituency within which the village falls, despite strong anti-incumbency sentiments against him.
The church’s leanings could not have been made more obvious. Suppressing deep-seated resentment against the sitting MLA, the villagers are now veering round to voting for him. ‘‘When he came seeking votes in the 2001 election, he walked along with his children, who wore torn and tattered clothes, to prove how poor he was. In this election, he has declared property worth Rs 88 lakh, campaigns in a Tata Sumo and everyone knows the extent of his property,’’ said Vino John Kennedy, a resident. But the 4,500-odd voters in the village, which saw massive destruction during the tsunami, will go by what the Church says.
Back at the Pentecostal Church, redemption is not in sight. ‘‘It is a hard struggle. Our husbands and children cannot fish in the village. They cannot have any livelihood here. They have to go to Mandapam (near Rameshwaram) or even Kerala for fishing. The Church is not relenting,’’ said Densily James, in tears. She moved out of Kadiyapattanam to nearby James Nagar because neighbours ‘‘screamed and made noises whenever we started praying at home’’. And her daughter Jasmine Prabha’s name was struck off the village roster for teaching jobs in schools.
‘‘The restriction against the 42 families continue. There is room only for one religion and one caste here. We don’t want them corrupting the others. What Father Gino Mathew (the Parish Priest) says is final. He has full control over the village and we go by whatever he says,’’ said S Amaladasan, secretary of the non-functional parish council. It was dismantled last year after members came to blows, trading charges against each other of misappropriation of massive tsunami donations that poured into the Church.
When Bhaskaran, a Pentecostal convert, tried to start an STD booth, villagers on instructions from the Church, pulled down the shutters. ‘‘After suffering so much and struggling to get even one meal a day for our three children, my husband finally got a job in Abu Dhabi nine months back,’’ said his wife, Amalaropam. ‘‘There is no place for us even in the sea,’’ said Ruby Nelson, ‘‘our only prayers these days are that whoever comes to power would find a way out for us from this misery’’.
‘‘Politicians have turned a blind eye to the situation, refraining from antagonising the Church, more interested in using its support for their own interests,’’ said J Tamizhchelvan, an activist advocate from nearby Mandaikadu Puthoor. Ostracism is not an election issue here; it is an ‘‘internal’’ matter of the Church, not for the district administration or parties to broach.


