The Garrison Cemetry

  A private abode for the dead...                  Bumping into somebody, sometimes charts a different course to your day ..your priorities change and you catch up on good old stories and gossips..you chatter..you giggle, you mourn..an unexpected series of events on a monotonous day.

A cloudy evening and we were on our way to visit Parivarthana School, as the owner, Mr Puttegowda  was a dear friend and a bumping meeting was leading us there. Much water had flown under the bridge and now he is the proud owner of a school, which believes in bringing up children, in the right ambience, conducive to study and grow up with a good routine and healthy lifestyle..play, academics and spirituality in equal measure.he wanted to share his joy with us, show us the fruits of his fervent dreams.. Passion and and sincerity to a cause…to carve healthy citizens with a healthy mindset..help out children with learning disabilities and make them successful...That was the dream which unfolded in the blink of an eye..some things happen ..just like that  yes just like that and there is no stopping..things fall in place, you have the right people and the sea ahead clears..as for Moses. In his own simple style, he took us around and we saw what he meant was true..within a year, it had become a full fledged school with hostels and sports grounds, music rooms, and above  all teachers who care.. The kitchen was a flurry of activity..thousands of chappathis sliding out..the bakers winding up..the laundromat whirring away. We were walking towards the proposed swimming pool..voila..crossed the board" The Garrison Cemetry" …On my query, the yoga guru Mr Anish, who was walking with us,  told me that this small piece of land was owned by a family in Switzerland.

The swimming pool and the river lost it's charm and I wanted to walk among the dead...but not wanting to hurt his feelings walked over to the proposed pool and watched the Cauvery flow.. The Cauvery flowed with such grace, she seemed like she was wearing an earthy green saree , moving like a swan..inspite of the wars that had been waged here and the innumerable soldiers who fell on these shores...If only she would take me into her confidence and tell me the stories  of valor and war. 

On our way back I excused myself and walked over to the graves to read the epithaphs. love to read epitaphs, as it is coined with much thought and comes from the heart, structured into words of art..simply..sentences carved lyrically. Here they are.. one read..”aged ten months..

“Forgive blest babe..the tributary tear that mourns thy exit from a world like this. Forgive the wish that would’ve kept thee here.and stayed thy progress to the seats of Bliss”  these words made me feel the loss too..centuries after.

Aged thirteen yrs  Lydia

Snatched away in youthful bloom,

She has found an early tomb,

Never here to know again,

This world’s joy or this world’s pain

What though friends may weep around,

This shall heal their every wound,

Resteth she among the blest,

Where is everlasting rest.

Another one, mourning a young wife..using Ben Johnson's famous epitaph, name undecipherable

Underneath this stone doth lie.

As much beauty as could die,

Which in life did harbor give,

To more virtue than doth life

Mr Anish, the yoga exponent patiently walked with me and even tried his hand in scrubbing the black dried moss, which clung to the tombs with much attachment. There was more to this place than a cluster  of graves.. here comes the story...This piece of land with its quaint tombstones of various shapes and sizes belongs to a Swiss family. The Regiment de Meuron was a Swiss Mercenary Unit under the Dutch East India Company, who had fought against the British east India Company. Bad times befell the Dutch, and the wages were not paid..so the regiment switched over to the British East India Company and joined their services with eight hundred men. Most of the young spirited lads had to lay down their lives in the seige of Srirangpatnam, agianst Tipu Sulthan, and now here they lie. The British turned the town into a garrison town, and hence the name Garrison Cemetry... years rolled by, the British receded, and the graves were forgotten..not a candle was lit nor a bud was placed on the crumbling graves. weeds and roots creeped on the graves and time flew, ravaging it further.

In 2007, Louis Dominique de Meuron, a descendant of the regiment De Meuron, along with his wife Monique,came all the way to Srirangpatnam to see the place his ancestor had been apart of history and also lies here.. They were very much pained to see the graves in ruin...they made arrangements to restore the graves, but they passed away before the restoration was complete. Maybe they would have wished to light a candle, and place a bunch of fresh roses on a freshly whitewashed tomb, ..Local administrators and the Archaeology Department was consulted and the Meurons  agreed to fund the entire project, which came upto around thirty to forty lakhs. The weeds were cleared, the tombs plastered and whitewashed. Then the Karnataka State Archaeology Department formally handed over the cemetry to the De Meuron family and it is being maintained by them..the lady who maintains it receives her salary from the Meurons, Switzerland. Time to  leave..the sun was planning to bid adieu..Mr Gowda would have other things to do than wait for me to read the entire epitaphs..so headed back to coffee and freshly baked rusk and biscuits...we left wishing him all the best and that his dreams unfold through his children..