Chapter Seven, Section III
Daroga Faridamiya had not yet given up the fight, nor
had the rice smugglers and moneylenders in the Bundi area. Danpuri Minto had
been the pastor and schoolteacher in the Bundi
Nirsingh was the Christian leader in Ugratola, while Joiyisu had responsibility for the little flock of inquirers at Kwambipur. It took much courage for these simple tribal folk to come out openly as followers of Jesus Christ, knowing what it had already cost so many of us. But once a person really catches a vision of Jesus Christ, "High and Lifted Up", there is just no way that he or she can turn back. And so it was that a small company of these loving Uraon adivasi people followed their Lord through the waters of baptism in a triumphant service I was privileged to share in on the banks of the Kanahari River.
As is the custom in many Christian tribal communities in India, mass baptisms are often followed by mass marriages. Kwambipur village was soon to celebrate the wedding of two of her young people - converts to the new faith. The bride, Shakuntala, as her name implies, was from a Hindu- related section of adivasi society, but her parents were friendly with the Christians and were delighted that their daughter had chosen to marry into their community. With a name like Markus, the groom, obviously was of a Christian family.
While it is very popular in North India for members of the Sikh community to marry into Christian families, in our remote area, "mixed-marriages" were hitherto unheard of, especially between Hindus and "tribals". The powerful opponents of the Gospel were incensed that Shakuntala's parents had dared to offer their convert daughter in marriage to a Christian and gave strict orders to stop the arrangements.
Within the
Our opponents even went so far as to publicly
threaten physical violence to the Christian leaders if they dared to perform
the wedding. Fearing for their lives, the Bundi
It was the next day when news reached us at Bhavnagar that Shakuntala was being taken to Daulatapur, under police escort, for medical examination to ascertain her age. Knowing that no legal charge could be made for performing a "mixed-marriage" the Daroga seemed bent on charging the Christians for marrying a "minor" and that, against her wishes. This is in spite of the fact that Shakuntala was legally of marriageable age while most of the Hindu marriages were of girls around twelve years of age!.
To "prove" that Shakuntala had been forced into marriage, her father was made to consume large amounts of alcohol after which, in a drunken stupor, his thumb impression was taken on a blank piece of paper together with those of "witnesses". The fabricated charge, supposedly made by Shakuntala's father, was written above the thumb-impression, accusing Danpuri, Joiyisu and Nirsingh of forcibly baptizing, marrying and kidnapping his daughter - an extremely serious allegation.
The fathers of both bride and groom were threatened with very severe beatings if they dared to testify in favour of the Christians. The following day, word reached us of the arrest of our three accused brothers in Christ who were roped together and marched forty-five miles to Mandya. Almost at the same time, another message reached us that Shakuntala and her terrified father were seen sitting in the shade of a tree in front of the Bhavnagar police station.
Racing over to the thana I found them trembling, in a state of shock, completely silent, obviously having been threatened to be quiet. The police guard informed me that they were being taken to Daulatapur for interrogation. They would head out for the sixty-mile trek through the jungle as soon as the party had rested up after the twelve-mile walk from Bundi in exhausting heat.
Half- an-hour after the party had left Bhavnagar, I set off on my motor-cycle, catching up to them as they were nearing the first village where water would be available. The two were roped together and held by a single policeman who was obviously a very disgruntled fellow. Cruising a little behind and at a distance safe enough to avoid a swipe from the constable's lathi, I challenged the couple to tell the truth; "Sachh bolo - tell the truth - daro mut - don't be afraid." I repeated, over and over again, without receiving any response.
They were terribly afraid of what might happen to them under questioning. Somehow, I had to instil into them enough courage to stand firm in the belief that God was far more powerful than the forces of evil which were trying to tear apart the very fabric of our Christian community. . "Before you came to Christ," I reminded them, "you said you were under the fear of Satan, but it would now seem that again, you are allowing the "bhoots" to intimidate you and to dominate your lives."
For fifteen minutes I counselled them, quoting text after text: -
"Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?" (Rom 8:35 RSV). "For we are not contending against flesh and blood, but against the principalities, against the powers, against the world rulers of this present darkness, against the spiritual hosts of wickedness in heavenly places." (Paul in Ephes. 6:12 RSV).
I had been cruising along very slowly in first gear in a temperature well over the century mark and this caused my motorcycle engine to overheat and start "pinking". I could go no further. Before returning home, I thought I would drop in at the next watering village, Mahugola, which was predominantly Christian, to ask the brethren and sisters there to speak with the couple secretly, in the Kuruk Uraon language unknown to the Hindu constable, to encourage them in the Lord and to persuade them to tell the truth fearlessly under interrogation. I had one last word with the constable to let him know that whatever may happen to us and the followers of Jesus Christ, we hold nothing against those who would destroy us. "We must love even Daroga Faridamiya because Jesus loves him enough to die for him."
"Hugh!" grunted the constable, "Why do you let HIM (Daroga Faridamiya) run you around like this?" We were to find out later that a number of constables were fed up with the way Faridamiya kept all the bribes to himself while, at the same time, giving a lot of extra jobs to the lower ranks, especially in relation to the persecutions. Turning to the couple, the constable said, "Why don't you tell the truth? Faridamiya will be transferred one of these days!" The Daroga's selfishness eventually was to backfire against him.
Following the couple's return from Daulatapur, we heard nothing more until a week later when an urgent message reached us with information that the bride's father, Baldeo, was now prepared to break silence. It must have taken considerable courage for him even to have contemplated the thought.
This was definitely an answer to prayer for had we not been asking the Lord to make Baldeo courageously outspoken? But Baldeo was imposing conditions, which we thought went too far. He had witnessed me challenge the police in front of the thana and when he and his daughter were being taken to Daulatapur for questioning. If we could be brave enough to face the police in that way, Baldeo thought, I could do anything. Little did he know that, on both occasions, my very marrow was quivering with fear. Baldeo agreed to talk if I would rescue his daughter! He feared that the police might take revenge and torture or rape the girl if we were to expose their machinations.
Already, we had witnessed many miracles but in spite of them all, my faith was still weak. When I thought of trying to rescue a person in the way envisaged by Baldeo, it seemed that this would be a most difficult assignment even for the Lord himself. After all, the young bride was being "protected" by a posse of three armed policemen, each with a .303 rifle and lathi. At night, one of the constables slept in front of the door of the little mud hut, which served as a jail. One thing was in our favour because of the heat of mid-summer when the door of the hut was left open, so there would be no need to break in.
At about 10.30 p.m., I set off in the Dodge truck with the two messengers sent by Baldeo. They both were from his village and were scared stiff about the whole venture. As it would be possible to hear the truck engine from as far away as five miles, especially in the still of the night, I had to drive ever so carefully, avoiding any sudden bursts of throttle. When about a mile from Kwambipur, I turned off the headlights and continued on, down into the valley, by the light of the stars.
In such remote jungle areas, free of the pollution that plagues big cities and industrialized regions, cloudless nights are never jet black, even though not a single light may be seen on the horizon.
Nearing the village, I cut the motor and by the truck's own momentum, coasted towards Kwambipur and was able to swing the vehicle around in a half-circle ready to make a quick get- away if the need should arise. Baldeo was there to meet us on the outskirts of the village. He wanted me to do the actual "kidnapping" of his daughter!
"What a crazy man," I thought. There was just no way that I could be persuaded to enter that village at night or that Baldeo's plan could succeed. It was because I was a stranger to the village and no outsider could possibly carry out such a strategy. But Baldeo had to see this for himself. If he were to detect any trace of timidity in me, fear would overtake him. For the venture to be a success, Baldeo had to realize that only he himself could do the job.
"Baldeo," I said, "I think we are ready to enter the village and I want you to go out front to lead the way."
"No, Sahib, I am too afraid to go ahead. You must lead and I will direct you from behind."
"This will never do," I thought, because I could not run the risk of Baldeo even whispering directions from the rear. There had to be complete silence. "Baldeo," I said, hoping to instil a little courage into the one who just HAD to take the lead, "I hear that, occasionally, you have dacoits (bandits) raiding your village. Are they ever able to steal from the houses without being detected?"
"No Sahib," he was quick to reply, "our village has the best dogs in the area and every family has one. Only one dog needs to hear the slightest noise and it's bark will waken the rest who will join in the chorus."
"Kwambipur must be a wonderful village with no robberies at all," I remarked, hoping to provoke Baldeo to take the initiative.
"Oh, we do have robberies but they are mainly committed by our own local village bad people," replied Baldeo.
"But how can they get away with it while the real bandits are detected?" I further questioned.
"That's because our local bad people are not strangers to the village. The dogs know their scent and don't bark when they move around the village at night or when any of us go out to the toilet after dark."
"Does that mean that it really takes a stranger to waken the dogs?" was my last question and I only hoped that the timid Baldeo got the message. The three of us set out - Baldeo, one of his local village friends, with myself in the lead.
Recalling some of the night patrols we went on during training days in the Air Force, I tried to give the impression that I was full of confidence and totally in command of the situation. "Baldeo," I exhorted, "I am surprised by your lack of courage. Why are you lagging behind? Are you prepared to have the police torture and rape your daughter? Come on, let's go. We have nothing to fear. If God be for us who can be against us? Remember the plan I have given you but above all, don't forget to be absolutely silent. From now on we must not even whisper a word in case the dogs are wakened. Now, follow me, let's move."
I could never be more thankful than when Baldeo tapped me on the shoulder and whispered, "Marfkeegeeay (forgive me), Sahib, I fear that you, being a stranger to our village, will waken the dogs. You please stay here by the truck and let me take the lead!
"Baldeo was now in command and without fear. For the first time that night, I had hope that our "kidnapping" of the bride from the police would come to fruition. We had a brief prayer together, asking the Lord to keep Shakuntala quiet when her father gently wakened her and, of course, keep the policemen asleep, especially the one stretched out right in front of the open door of the hut. Baldeo would have to step over him, move about ten feet into the hut and waken his daughter who, we hoped, would not scream. She would have to be quietly instructed to keep her sari held up in case it should trail over the policeman to disturb his sleep. One thing in our favour was that most of the police were addicted to alcohol, which helped to induce sound sleep.
Remembering further Air Force training strategy, I instructed the two men that, after rescuing the girl, they were to run in a zigzag fashion if fired upon and head straight for the truck. The tail- gate of the Dodge would be left down to facilitate an easy climb aboard. For fifteen minutes I waited, hoping that all these rules and directions were being observed.
For another ten minutes I agonized for the party in the lonely silence, broken only by an odd night- bird's call, a few crickets and the pounding of my heart. It took almost half-an-hour before the mission was complete and we had Shakuntala, Baldeo and his friend back with us. Fortunately, the truck engine started and we were on our way to Daulatapur, via Bhavnagar.
Meanwhile, Markus, the groom, was over the border working in Surgapam, so it was decided to send word to him and the Burtons that we had rescued the girl who, with her father, was prepared to make a statutory declaration before the Deputy Commissioner. We thought it would be good if Lionel, as Mission Treasurer, could make the trip to Daulatapur because we would need to engage a lawyer and this would involve considerable expense.
On the return trip, we did not call in at Bhavnagar. Ruth heard the familiar sound of the Dodge truck passing through around three in the morning and guessed that we had been successful in "kidnapping" the bride from the police. What followed was a matter of formality. Baldeo withdrew the charge he had made under duress against Danpuri, Nirsingh and Joiyisu, and the case was ended. .
Our three brothers were not released from Mandya prison for another ten days but, meanwhile, the report of this adventure spread far and wide throughout the district, much to the embarrassment of the police and Daroga Faridamiya, in particular. Four months were to pass between the inception of that case and its termination in the full acquittal of our three karmcharis. Meanwhile, the Lord had been performing yet more miracles through them in the Mandya prison. This came about through the Hindi New Testament I had mailed to the Jailer Sahib.
As already mentioned, during my own imprisonment, I had asked the Lord to allow me the privilege of sharing the message of the Gospel with my fellow prisoners - a totally Impossible Dream. To a degree, this had been made possible through Vishvanath, but because I was not allowed to mix and speak freely in the exercise yard, I felt that my Christian witness had been greatly limited. .
When Danpuri, Nirsingh and Joiyisu were admitted to Mandya Prison and paraded before the Jailer Sahib, each item in their possession was listed in the records. To the surprise of the Jailer Sahib, it was noted that, even though they were Christian karmcharis on salaries, they did not have a copy of the Bible. Before they could explain that their arrest had been made in the fields and that they had been given no opportunity to gather even their basic toiletries or a change of clothes, the kind and friendly Jailer rebuked them:- "You are three men with not a Bible between you. The Skillicorn Sahib was only one person, but he had many Bibles! How can you be Christians without a Bible? Here, take this; you may have a loan of my New Testament that the Skillicorn Sahib sent me. You may use it while you remain here." I'm sure you will agree; this was more than just unreal!
Imagining that all Christian karmcharis propagated the Gospel only because they were under the watchful eyes of their foreign priests, the guards had no fears that our three brothers would promote a growth in Christian belief within those walls. No inhibitions therefore, were placed upon their relationships with the other prisoners. They were allowed to share even a common dormitory cell with twenty other inmates, a privilege that was denied to me. As there was always a quick turnover of prisoners in that remand section, many hundreds from all parts of Mandya Sub- Division were able to receive a taste of what Jesus is all about. And that was a Miracle.
I learned later that, due to many misconceptions regarding the activities of missionaries, who were thought to gain their converts mainly through pecuniary persuasion, there was no fear that the three poor pastors, who had no money on their persons, would have much religious influence within the group, even with a Bible, now in their possession!
Ruth and I were to have one more contact with the Jailer Sahib before he was transferred to another part of Bihar. It was on the occasion of Ruth's mother's visit to India to fly our three sons to Australia, prior to our round the world trip on our first furlough.
After taking Mrs. Morrall on a tour of Palamghat District, we could not resist the desire to see the prison officer who had been so gracious to me during my one-month's sojourn as his guest. After being kindly entertained to morning tea in the prison office, the three of us were escorted through the exercise yard to the cell, which, for a month, had been my home.
"Martkeegeeay," the Jailer said, seriously and apologetically, "Please forgive me for the condition of the cell. Had I known in advance that you were coming, I would have made it more tidy, but we had no other place to store the ballot boxes to be used in next week's election." I later learned that I had been the last prisoner to occupy that now freshly whitewashed cell which had been reserved as a sort of shrine! How about that? Who else can claim to have a prison cell as one's memorial? And that is no joke.
The realization of my quest to find the Secret of Life had been a progressive experience. It began during those Air Force days, but it was in that Mandya prison, tasting just a little of what Jesus endured, that life took on an altogether new meaning and purpose. In one sense, my quest was over and yet, in a higher dimension, it was only just beginning.