PAIN AND PHILOSOPHY - A FLORENTINE EPISODE.

Can pain be quantified and expressed before the world in the Metric system? The gestures,
convulsions, facial spasm, wet eyes and those squeals convey the quantum of sufferings. But the
world has its own replies:

“One must bear the Cross all by oneself. Dear, it is only bad times. No escapade. The Lord will
always lead”.

Philosophers pop up all at once around the sufferer more in degree and perfection than Bernardo
dei Machiavelli and Giovani Battista Vico!

Certainly an observation of silence in those painful moments serves the best tonic to the sufferer
than such an external rigmarole of words, without any substance behind them. The sufferer is
asked to live upon words! When pain is pounding every cell, can mere words be enough? That
ultimate voice should come from within and not from without.

Listen! The sinking man is now making his final call. He is waving at you to be by his bed side.
He is whispering but his lips droll inaudibly. Words are taciturn. He is out pouring his heart.
Yes. He has finally quantified pain and made his exit.

Sergio Mantello’s quantification certainly stirred my heart. It gave me a prick. The surrounding
world before me shrank to a pointless point. I saw the womb of Pain!

As I look out of the window from my apartment, I am seeing a veil of mist covering the Piazza Santa
Croce in the smalt of night. Florentine meadows are in meditation. The Basilica of Santa Croce
which overlooks the Square is now embracing my vision reiterating with faith and hope. This
Basilica which is the largest Franciscan church in the world brings to the pastures of memories the
equisite carvings on the main door Lunetta by Giovanni Dupra - “The Triumph of the Cross”.

Sergio often drew a deep breath looking at it. He would soliloquize - “The triumph of the Cross”. I
ask him once:

“What do you actually mean by it”?

“Don’t you get it Placido? Christ was nailed but was triumphant in overcoming his bodily pain.
He was well beyond his body and mind. Actually, he did not suffer anything bodily at the Cross as
one might otherwise think. He shred all his mortal perils in one breath. That philosophy was
deep in him throughout. Can we also raise ourselves like him in moments of inflicting pain?
Aren’t we afterall mortals despite our philosophy and visions?”

What answer could be sufficient? I had no idea. I had no such inflicting experience so far to
verify the validity of the philosophy. But Sergio finally answered such doubts with his own life.

When was our first meeting? After completing my Civil Engineering, I got my first posting at
Florence in the City Planning and Development Department. As I boarded the train from Spello to
Florence, I was in a rejuvenating spirit. I always loved Florence for the authentic Florentine
atmosphere. If during your Florentine afternoon you are walking near Santa Croce, you’ll soon
realize that there is much more to do in this area than visiting the Basilica. The Square and the
surrounding streets always preserved the rich heritage of Florence and strolling about the narrow
lanes swept anyone into the past and held him in that singular time of Florence. Peeking into the
windows of palaces, one won’t miss the Frescoes painted on the ceilings of the luxury apartments
of the Santa Croce District.

On the South side of the Square - it is called Palazzo dell’ Antella - a long building with a facade
decorated with amazing Frescos and with windows of odd sizes will captivate our eyes. More than
an Architect and Designer of buildings, my aesthetic heart always admired these antique designs
dating back to eons. In a true sense, Florence lives her ages across the sprawling grounds of the
Basicilica of Santa Croce.
The ground floor of the Palazzo houses shops and an array of restaurants. Sovenir shops, Lether
gadgets housing Floren handicraft and Antique dealers also form part of this huzzle buzzle.

Typical meals are served in these restaurants and to sit outside and enjoy a lunch with the view of
the Basilica in the background has no other parallel experience.

It was during one such delicious afternoons that I first met Sergio Mantello about 40 years ago.
He was sitting behind the counter busily attending his customers. His figure and appearance
impressed me. When I handed over my bill, he looked at me enquiringly and asked in his husky
voice:

“I haven’t seen you here before. Are you new to this place”?

I told him my short episode. His blue eyes conjured. He had a natural boon for making
immediate acquaintances .

In no time I became a regular customer at Sergio’s. In the passage of time we became thick
friends. Whenever time permitted him, we used to stroll around Piazza Santa Croce and sit under
the Baroque Fountain at the Palazzo Cocchi. Those summer nights will never return.

His life revealed a multifarious personality. In one word, he represented a living Encyclopedia.
He was at once a scientist, poet, a connoisseur of music and arts, a philosopher, photographer,
financial expert, philanthrophist and a good business man. He believed in the philosophy of
Church and was part of the Choir since his childhood. He ever loved Baroque music. He
belonged to the very winds of Florence. He was a typical Florentine man.

He would ask me about the Plans and Development of the future Florence. He shared stunning
views:

“This is the land of holy shrines embedded with designs of Frescoes, beautiful Squares and of
enchanting avenues. Modern architecture should not steal away the olden flavors of the city.
Heritage is something one cannot buy with money and modernity. Generations must breath in
eternity through such preservations of heritage and grand designs. Life is an unbroken chain from
the past to the present extending to the future”.

Sergio’s views were remarkable.

After my marriage, I moved on to an apartment at Borgo la Croce, still within the vicinity of Palazzo.
With my children I used to frequent his restaurant and they always bet that Sergio’s ice-cream was
as tasty as Vivoli’s’ in Via delle Stinche.

Time often made no smooth passage for human life. About thirty years ago, Sergio suffered from
certain heart ailment. The doctors suggested him a bypass. Life or death - he believed that god
won’t play dice. He wished to avoid the operation but his relatives were dead against. I tried to
console him:

“If god won’t play dice, why can’t you get it done?”
He reluctuntly acceeded to the request of his well wishers and consented for the operation but
something unfortunate happened. He fled from the operation table in the last minute and
created a stunning scene! It was a nighmare for us.

Deep within, he really had the urge to live. The senses can deceive our supreme philosophy. It is
a gentle reminder that afterall we are mortals more than philosophers. Pain and the fear of death-
who has really conquered these elements? His odd behaviour was justifiable only from his
individual perception.

River Arno flowed quietly for thrity more seasons after that incident!

Sitting on the steps of the Basilica, Sergio once said:

“I don’t know what had prompted me to flee from the operation table. My philosophy had really
beaten me”.

The second spell of debility began a few years ago. One day he showed his hand to me.

“Placido, see there is swelling around my fingers and Phalanges are getting stiffened. Also watch
the reddening of the skin around the areas affected”.

“Go and see your doctor at the earliest” I suggested.

Soon it was discovered that he was suffering from an Auto Immune disease - Rheumatoid Arthritis.
It is a progressive inflammatory that affects joints. Painful episodes around the joints follow.
Stiffness and deformity could be expected.

As months followed Sergio’s world became very telescopic. He bade farewell to his familiar
corners and alleys of Florence. Life forced him to be within four walls.

I visited him now and then. I saw him struggle with pain. Biting his teeth he told me once:

“The Triumph of the Cross - My senses appalingly fail to grasp the idea now”.

I was silent.

A few weeks passed. He was sinking. He seemed to recognize my presence. I sat by his bed.
He clasped my hand. I heard him inaudibly.

“I need Mercy Killing! I must have it!” Tears followed his cheeks.

I was thunderstruck. Bishop Hato was summoned. He read verses from Bible and placed the
Cross on his hand. Suddenly he clenched it and in moments fell to eternal sleep.

Perhaps, when senses sank to oblivion, the inner recesses experienced The Triumph of the Cross in
those parting moments.
But one thing. Moments before death threw the veil upon him, he had definitely quantified pain.

1494 words.

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(Special Notes:- Pain can be expressed but can it be quantified by way a Histogram? Can the
quantum of pain overpower our innate philosophy in an unbearable situation? Perhaps, there is not
a universal answer for these but the life of Sergio Mantello certainly reveals much more in this
direction. Set in the background of Florence, this story tries to explore the point of divergence
between pain and human philosophy).