The origin of the name dates back to January 2006, when in a pathetic attempt to steal the best team name prize, me and Herr Vinay Schenoi (sic[k]) scourged the net and stole the name from a list published in one of those pub quiz sites. We thought it was hilarious, but the quiz organizers failed to concur and we missed the prize. Of course, we went on to win a few other prizes, but that is an entirely different story ("singin' in the rain" and all that), and it is not my intention to cover that here.
A long time ago (in 2006 to be precise), in a galaxy not so far far away (in our galaxy - location: Goa to be precise), our story starts. On the holy day of Ugadi, four friends decided to spurn all the thoughts of lying half-naked on the sun-baked sands of Goa, and decided instead, to visit its temples and churches to atone for their sins. And so it happened that after a visit to the magnificent Bom Jesus Basilica, there we were, sitting in that small dingy restaurant opposite to the church, eagerly awaiting our lunch. Priyananda Shenoy, as usual, was quiet and sporting that now-familiar look of a geek in a porn movie show. Aravinda Hegde was busy lecturing us on the virtues of using Coconut Oil (for the contents of the lecture, please contact Professor Hegde), whereas Herr Schenoi was wasting no time lambasting about what big hypocrites we were (being an "auspicious" day, me and Hegde had vowed that we would refrain from eating non-vegetarian food for the whole day). As the speakers were blaring out "Jhalak Dikhla Ja" for the umpteenth time, I took out our tourist guide, and decided to skim through it, reading out word by word, intent on irritating Herr Schenoi. Needless to say, Schenoi did get irritated, until I stumbled upon the entry for the "most photographed church in India" - the Church of Our Lady of Immaculate Conception in Panaji.
Schenoi immediately sat upright. A grin appeared on his face extending from one ear to the other, even though he was yet to be served with his umpteenth order of pomfrets. "Man! is that for real?" croaked Schenoi. "So we named ourselves on a church that really exists!". I was quick to point out that he'd perhaps missed a spelling or two. It was Conception, not 'Mis'conception. "Never mind!" he said "you could always use that as a question in one of your quizzes!" I strived hard to hide a smirk, for that was exactly what I had in mind, as we resolved to pay a visit to the church before we left Goa.
Come the final day of our stay and we still had not seen the church. The guide said "the church is situated on a hill, overlooking the town of Panaji", and we had not seen anything that resembled a hill in the town. Perhaps the Goans' idea of a hill was completely different from that of the rest of the world. Nevertheless, we decided to drive down from Dona Paula and search the whole town to find the elusive church. Schenoi screamed his usual warning at Hegde: "Don't rip on that bike!" , perhaps peeved by the fact that Hegde, on that Hero Honda Passion, always managed to speed past Schenoi on his sleek and shiny Bajaj Pulsar. Unperturbed by Schenoi's threats, Hegde took it upon himself to be the navigator for that last leg of our Goan adventure. No sooner had we come down from Dona Paula to the outskirts of the town, it was evident to me (riding behind Hegde on the bike) that he had no idea where he was going. He wisely stopped the bike in front of an old lady and blurted out: "Madam, where is the Immaculate Misconception church?"
Needless to say, the lady was taken aback by the question, but she managed to compose herself and guided us to go straight into the town, all the time sporting a look on her face which clearly indicated that she would be happy to see us vanish from there. Taking the cue, we sped on right into the town and again lost the way. This time it was my turn and I repeated the question to an old gentleman: "Sir, where is the Church of Immaculate Misconception?" Thankfully, he didn't notice anything wrong and showed us the way. We finally did manage to find the church, an imposing white structure, with multiple steps that faced a thoroughfare. One look at the church and Herr Schenoi was not convinced that this was it. Hegde meanwhile, had not yet seen the church. His eyes were riveted on a Kamat Hotel on the roadside. Soon we started arguing over a plate of dosa, as to whether he had indeed found the church. Finally, Hegde had the brainwave: "Why don't we ask someone?". Coming out of the hotel, he promptly corned the first person he saw, and pointed at the church: "Boss, yeh Immaculate Misconception church yahi hai kya?" Unfortunately the guy couldn't answer. He was too busy laughing.
We'd finally found our church...
Dedicated to the memory of Mr. Vinay Shenoy whose name I have Germanized, ever since he left our shores in search of greener pastures in Eastern Europe. May he rust in piece.
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