No one is indispensable, I’m told often. But never did I think priests and tailors could be so important in the lives of certain people.

I’m a believer, though not necessarily a regular churchgoer. In Pune I made occasional trips to a nearby Catholic Church with my catholic roomie. We enjoyed the singing and the short sermons. But what we disliked was the hounding that followed later. After service, the president of the youth committee would introduce himself and talk about future events. The Church president would then follow and hint at special donations that students could make. Finally the friendly priest would crack a joke or two, ask about our wellbeing and try to get us involved with various activities in church. If money wasn’t involved, social service definitely was.

I’m not going to pretend I have the makings of a Mother Teresa. Apart from giving the not-so-lucky, sympathetic glances from a distance, I do nothing else. So understandably, when I went to pray, I disliked having to spend an hour outside church listening to all these people.

But you couldn’t afford to annoy a priest.

I’ve never been too fond of attending our "Orthodox Syrian Jacobite" services. Several Jacobite churches in Chennai offer benches. But in Kerala the scene is quite different. The men stand on one side, while the women stand on the other. Most of your time you stand and mutter prayers (in Syriac) that you don’t understand. But since you’ve heard it most of your life, you say it automatically. Bored children walk around, occasionally whimpering for attention, while the mothers are deep in prayer with their heads covered. But this devotion doesn’t last too long. A competitor makes an entry wearing her exquisite diamonds and a new expensive sari. Most women watch, deciding what they will wear the next Sunday. The men meanwhile engage in church politics and discussions about cars. The sermon isn’t very easy to comprehend either. But you do notice the bits where he speaks about the role women play in everyday life, according to the Bible. Not everyone is pleased and the youngsters walk out labeling the priest old-fashioned.

At the risk of sounding blasphemous, I must however confess that this happens in churches, though not always.

The priest is an important figure in the life of a Christian. He baptizes you, marries you off and buries you. When your child is born, you fix a grand christening ceremony. The priest is given a big meal and perhaps money too. In exchange for this, he blesses the child.

But you have a lot more of trouble when it’s time to get this child married off. The priest of your church gives certain documents without which he/she can’t get married. Apart from knowing that it is called a Desha Kuri, I don’t know what function it serves.

To get this Desha Kuri, you have to be member of the church. You couldn’t walk in one sunny morning and demand a Desha Kuri. You should have paid your membership amount and attended service on three Sundays. The Desha Kuri will cost you Rs 2500. Not much, considering just how much you spend during a wedding otherwise. But nowadays you have to indulge in some bargaining.

The priest: One month’s salary.

Father of the Bride: What? That is a little too much Father.

Priest: How about 10k then?

Father of the Bride: We are not multimillionaires. Please be reasonable.

Priest (Annoyed): Then maybe you should give an application saying you are poor people.

Father of the Bride: (worried he won’t get the Desha Kuri): Lets settle for 5k then?

Priest: Okay. That should be okay.

And after this laborious task, the wedding can finally take place.

This custom of asking for money didn’t exist a few years earlier. And certainly not during funerals. At a recent funeral, the priest demanded Rs. 2000 after doing the needful. The mourning family, though shocked, paid up immediately, not wanting to create a scene.

A lot of people who are getting children married were recently complaining about priests and their demands. But alongside, they were also complaining about the tailor.

Tell him you daughter is getting married, and he pretends he has a schedule busier than the Prime Minister’s. He looks with indifference at the blouse material, looks up his fancy diary and says he can give the blouses a month later. After much convincing that the marriage will take place before that, he agrees to an earlier date. He makes the measurements. Then you return when the blouses should have been ready. They aren’t. He was just too busy. But, if they are ready, you can be sure he has mixed up measurements. The bride can’t get into them and she has begun howling. She is sick of trying on blouse after blouse when she is also trying to coming to terms with the idea of becoming a Mrs. Someone. Her fiancé is oblivious to all the tailor tensions. He either calls or emails each day. I’m not aware of the conversations they have, but it certainly doesn’t involve the tailor or the priest.

So after trying out the blouses, you go back to him and fire him.

"If you are not happy with the way I stitch, go find someone else." he grins wickedly. And a minute later he says that maybe he can fix the problem. So more measurements are taken. You’ve told him the wedding is next week, but he knows you are lying. So he agrees to return the blouses a day after the supposed wedding. What can the bride’s mother do? She agrees.

Eventually she sits at home grumbling about the tailor while her husband walks in after a tiring meeting with the priest.

But can you do without them? No.

The priest and the tailor know that they are indispensible during times such as this. So they make the most of the power they possess during these times. And all you can do is smile and bear with their tantrums. And perhaps you realise that like everyone else even they need importance. So when they don’t get too much of it, they think of ways to get it.

Sad. Maybe pathetic.

But can you do without them? No.