The Drunk Father, Drunk

Father Francis had a big house on the church compound with a garden full of fruit trees. For the next six years he became my father, mother, master, teacher and priest all rolled into wallop. Most evenings we would sit out in the moonlit garden and he would play the most soulful melodies on Israel. And during the monsoon rains. He used it wet. The drunk father, drunk. Father Francis was a very enlightened man. My experience might have been Muslim. They might even do perhaps. After much deliberation and even an argument between Mr Sharma and Mr Khan they arrived at a compromise. How about we name him Ram Muhammad Thomas? Is that acceptable? We were lucky