For every story of discord and tension in India, there are tales of a peaceful coexistence of cultures, religions, languages and practices that are so varied it defies all logic. One among these many thousands of instances is captured at the Annai Velankanni church, on the shores of Elliot’s Beach in south Chennai.

Besant Nagar scores high on Chennai’s scale of pincode snobbery — after all, the swish set lives by this seaside suburb. And it’s all beautiful and peaceful — except for about seven days a year. Come first week of September and close to a lakh of devotees from Chennai and elsewhere make their annual pilgrimage to the Annai Velankanni church.

Situated at the southern end of this seaside suburb, this is where the annual feast of Mary is celebrated. In the eight days leading up to September 8, considered to be the date when Mary was born and hence celebrated as the feast of Mary, the church and its precincts are filled with devotees and pilgrims of various creeds, to either pray for her intercession or give thanks for prayers answered.

This year, the 10-day programme started with a flag hoisting on August 29 and ended with a symbolic ‘crowning of Mary’, and included a grand car procession around Besant Nagar’s neighbourhood.

Reel to shrine

The church began as a tiny shrine on the sandy shores of the Bay of Bengal in 1971 when Mary appeared to Father PT Arulappa in a dream and asked for a shrine by the sea. Convinced about his vision, he set out to build one but could only manage a small hut near Elliot’s Beach. It took the release of Annai Velankanni, a Tamil film documenting the miracles performed at the shrine in Velankanni, to bring the church into existence. Starring the heartthrob of the ’70s Gemini Ganesan and Tamil Nadu’s own Amma, Jayalalithaa, the movie even had Kamal Haasan in a cameo role as Jesus Christ. The superhit film brought the basilica in the little seaside town of Velankanni into the spotlight, and by association the Chennai shrine as well.

A small church, a replica of the Basilica in Velankanni, was built in 1973 at Elliot’s Beach, and has since expanded to accommodate the influx of devotees who swear by its healing powers. Also known as ‘Arokia Mata’ or Our Lady of Health, this apparition of Mary is often referred to as Lourdes of the East.

While the original shrine of Mary in Velankanni is revered for its powers of healing, Chennai’s shrine-of-a-shrine has its own following. It’s mostly for people who cannot travel all the way to Nagapattinam, says Father Lawrence Raj, who was a parish priest at the Besant Nagar church earlier.

Setting aside the medieval colours of blue and white that usually adorn depictions of the Virgin Mary in the West, the Indian Madonna is draped in a traditional sari, with the infant Jesus in her arms, crowned in gold.

Pilgrims walk or cycle from their homes to the church, sometimes dressed entirely in saffron as an external symbol of their devotion. Some even shave their heads, believing that an offering of hair is appropriate — either out of gratitude or devotion — a ritual followed by pilgrims in Tirupati as well.

While attendance peaks around feast time, the church sees a constant inflow of people throughout the year. People who pray for health often come back after being healed, offering a model of the cured body part — like the heart, liver or a hand — covered in gold or silver, displayed at a museum on the church premises. Prayers and wishes are written on pieces of paper and tied to the grill of the shrine, or sometimes just a long thread soaked in turmeric suffices. Couples who wish for a child tie wooden cradles and even locks.

The night before feast day, Besant Nagar is unrecognisable as vast crowds throng the stretch that’s been cordoned off for the night-long celebrations. Gladys and Lily, who come from Aminjikarai, about 14km away, with their entire family in tow, have camped out in front of a closed shop and plan to stay the night. A tradition they have followed for the last 20 years. Her entire family is dressed in the same shade of light saffron, a little ritual for “success”, she explains.

It isn’t uncommon to find men and children with tonsured heads smeared in sandalwood paste. This borrowing of cultural norms is apparent at the Velankanni shrine in Chennai mostly because, as Father Lawrence puts it, people worship in whatever way they know best, and considering that an estimated 60 per cent of the people who visit this Catholic shrine are from other religions and faiths, a mélange of traditions is expected.

By early morning on feast day, the crowds have lessened considerably; but by 7.45am, English mass begins and the sand-covered church grounds soon fill up again with a few hundred people. Devotees walk around the statue of Mary with child, a practice that’s reminiscent of temples, with women holding plastic baskets with flowers, candles and coconuts. Volunteers, wearing t-shirts that proclaim ‘Ave Maria’, stand at level with the statue and lift the baskets close to the statue before handing them back. And once in a while a pilgrim will proffer up a child and they’ll oblige, lifting it close to the statue before handing him/her back. Garlands at the statue’s feet are disbanded and flowers handed out to devotees. Some women drop it into their baskets, some tuck it into their hair, but not before reverently touching it to their eyes.

Between the baskets of flowers, coconuts and candles, the tonsured heads and saffron clothing, there are seemingly countless ways to show gratitude or pray for blessings, and all of them are equally welcome here. A uniquely Indian twist to the celebration of this catholic feast is a sight to behold, proving that after a certain point, religion becomes immaterial — all you need is faith.

Related Topics