So, as it happened, in the early 1940s, the community around St. Mary's Church of Bharananganam, became aware that a nun who lived in a convent across the street from the church, was sick. It was around the same time when Ammachi was nursing her second child Kunjamma Aunty. My grandfather (Chandykunju) and his younger brother (Kunjachan) lived in the "Tharavadu" house, behind the church cemetery.

The story goes that one day Kunjachan was at the church courtyard when he heard the news about a nun's passing. As expected around that time, he along with a couple of other "Achayans" went to the convent to offer assistance with the funeral. Most of the sisters in the convent were offering prayers and had already started preparing for the funeral. Some sisters were already whispering about the graceful face and how bright the room was. Kunjachan got a glimpse of the nun, prayed briefly for her soul and after confirming the funeral preparations, headed back to the house to notify Valiaappachan and Ammachi.

As was the custom around those times, everybody from the family attended the funeral, which was said to have been attended by the entire Parish including some of Alphonsaamma's numerous students.

As Ammachi was narrating this, I could see Appacha was about to join to make this a story-telling "troika". He looked at me and asked,

He laughed and said, "It was us, the kids. We knew Alphonsamma could work miracles and we were the first believers in her miracles.". Appacha elaborated on how many years after the death of Alphonsamma, kids attending the Bharananganam School, would pray at Alphonsamma's tomb before exams or when they had ailments, seeking her intervention. As her popularity, passed on from elder sibiling to the younger ones, grew among the kids, the adults weren't far behind. Miracles were reported and carefully studied and accredited to Alphonsamma's intervention.

Bharnanganam had been home to some of the most affluent Syro-Malabar Catholic Families for centuries, as part of the great migration to the hills in search of good farming lands. It also brought in traders, craftsmen and artists.

Since most the families that migrated were Christian families, they decided to setup a grand church on the banks of the Meenachil river. Legend has it that when the families couldn't agree on the location for the the church to be built, a local leader decided to let an elephant choose the location. The elephant was made to pick up a rock and the place where he dropped it is was the location of the church's cornerstone. Hence the Bharnanganam church is also called the "Anakkallu Palli". Most of the families settled around the grand church which they had proudly dedicated to Mother Mary.

It was a small church back then, but as the community grew they built a larger and more spacious church in the European gothic style which still stands today.

The visit to the Bharanaganam Palli is a family ritual, which now mostly signifies the culmination of our trip to Kerala. Appacha would dutifully take us on a hike from Nerianganam through Choondacherry that would bring us near the cemetery of the Bharanaganam Church.

We would first visit the St. Mary's church or the Parish Church. I always loved its all-white facade, its giant doors and huge ceilings. It was built in the classic basilica style with a large hall, flanked by colonnades on each side. The large red curtain drawn across the altar stood in bright contrast to the very simple but elegant interior. During the Qurbana, it was a sight to behold as the curtains, effortlessly parts in a single swish, as the congregation sings the Hymn of Resurrection.

Following the Qurbana, we would walk up to the cemetery and Appacha would call out the resting place of all the ancestors, distant family members, close friends and acquaintances.

Each name had a story to tell. Some short, some that required pauses in between.

We would finally walk up to the small chapel by the cemetery where the priests and nuns, who served in the parish, were buried, including St. Alphonsa.

It used to be a simple chapel, but then those were simpler times.

Appacha would point to the final resting place of his grand uncle who was the ex-principal of the Bharnanganam Parish school. We would kneel by the tombstone and pray. He would later nudge us to pray by the tomb of Alphonsamma nearby. We would then walk around the chapel and through cemetery walk back to our home. All the way, recounting the stories he knew and over-heard, each of those being passed onto to his sons.

As a little boy and further more as a teen, these were memories that I cherished. I still do the trip with my sons when I visit India. Appacha still comes with us on these trips with me and we still do the walk, however a shorter one.

We always start from the Church, walk-up to the cemetery and wrap our visit by the once small "chapel" now turned into a shrine.