Well, well, well! To think that I should actually have you with me
here in Bombay! Why, I can hardly believe it is real! Don't I look
well and strong? That doctor at home almost worked miracles for me
with his medicines. My, but it's good to be back in the harness
again! The pull has to be long and steady and sometimes the straps
rub or the collar galls or the load drags heavily, but it's great
work. I am keeping well, too, and I'm happier than three years ago I
thought I would ever be again in this world.
What, man, you've only one day to give me in Bombay? And then you've
got to race on or that business venture will fall through! Oh,
these globe-encircling Americans who try to see the world and its
sight as do birds on the wing! Why, this is only an aggravation,
Dick! I'd almost rather you wouldn't have come at all than to give
me just one day.
No, you aren't going back either! You know that I didn't really mean
what I said, for just the sight of your face has done me a world of
good already and before the day is over I will show you some sights
which I dare say will do your heart good. But in the meantime, I
warn you, I shall talk every minute of the time to make up for all
the days that I can't have you.
Let me see--we'll go first to visit our day-schools and call upon
our preachers; then we'll drop into Boyle Avenue Church for a
prayer-meeting; then we'll go to see Shama Bhana; and this evening
I'll take you to a street service. It all sounds prosaic, perhaps,
because I've used hackneyed American terms, but for a man who has
been but one day in India there won't be anything prosaic about it.
Do you remember, Dick, what I told you men back home last year about
Shama Bhana, the man we're going to see this afternoon?
It will be quite a long story to tell you how it came out but I
will, for we've got quite a little car ride ahead of us to reach
Parel where we are going first to see such a school as you never
laid eyes on before, half-naked children in a palm-leaf hut. But let
me tell you, those children know more Scripture than your boy and
girl do, I am sure.
Well, about Shama Bhana. You know I told you that before I left for
home he had confessed to me privately that he believed in Christ but
he could not be baptized because his mother threatened to commit
suicide on the day he should become a Christian and because on that
same day his wife and child would be taken from him forever. All I
could do was to tell him to continue in prayer and that God would
lead him.
About six months after I had left Bombay, very suddenly Shama
Bhana's mother died. That very day, before the funeral rites had
been performed, Shama Bhana appeared at Deal's door and asked for
baptism. Of course Deal did not know much about the case, as his
work is largely with the Marathis; so he had to go all over the
situation with the Brahmin and make proof of his belief and
sincerity.
His belief seemed genuine and when it came to a proof of his
sincerity, Shama Bhana told his story. "Now my mother is dead," he
concluded. "I could not come before, for it would have been murder
and that is forbidden in the Bible. She died but an hour ago and I
came at once."
"Will you lose your property now?" asked Deal.
"Oh, yes. I will not have an anna above what I now carry in my
purse. But that is no hardship."
"Will they turn you out of the household at once?" Deal went on,
needlessly probing deeper into the fresh wounds in the man's heart,
but poor Deal did not seem to understand.
"That is practically done already, Sahib," the Brahmin answered. "As
soon as I heard that my mother was dead this morning, I kissed my
wife and baby good-bye while they still slept and came to you, for I
know that when I return they will be withheld from my sight and I
shall never see them more." Shama Bhana was overcome for a moment,
Deal said, and then he went on quietly. "Christ says that whoever
will not leave wife and child for His sake is not worthy of Him. I
could not bring them with me for you know the way the Hindu
oftentimes takes vengeance; for a few days all would have gone well;
then suddenly they would have sickened and died a mysterious death.
Sahib, I love them too well to bring death to them and so I left
them. Indeed, I have left all for Christ, Sahib. Will you not
baptize me?"
Deal baptized him at once and then asked what he could do to help
him.
Shama Bhana replied, "Nothing, thank you kindly, Sahib. I will find
work at once. I will not starve. Yes, Sahib, there is something you
can do for me. Pray! Pray that some day I may get my wife and child
back again."
Then Shama Bhana went away. He was a rich man, the son of great
possessions, as I have told you. The news of his baptism spread fast
and the fury of his father was unrestrained. Shama Bhana was
declared to be dead and his effigy was burned with his mother's body
on the funeral pyre. His wife was proclaimed a widow and treated as
such; her head was shaved and her jewels and beautiful garments were
taken from her.
But Shama Bhana's Brahmin training stood him in good stead, for he
went on his way apparently unmoved by all the indignities that were
being heaped upon him and his. He is a remarkably bright man and so
without much difficulty, for he procured it the very day of his
baptism, he got a fair position as clerk in a big English office in
the city. His family later did everything they could to get him
ousted, by fair means and foul, but he had proved his worth before
they began their work against him and so he was kept.
That was the situation I found when I returned from America. At my
request Shama Bhana came to live with me, but we saw little of each
other, for every moment when he was not in the office he was out
preaching or teaching and with power. But in the brief intervals
that I did see him I knew that his heart was sore. I had left my own
family in America, you know, and he would look at their picture upon
my dresser. "Your wife is a Christian," he would say. "And you will
probably see them again in a couple of years. But my wife is a Hindu
widow!" Then he would turn at once into his own room and I knew he
had gone to his knees in prayer. I would pray, too, both for him and
his and for my own. Though his case was, of course, immeasurably
harder than mine, still I thought I was pretty badly off with
thousands of miles of ocean rolling between my family and me and
with no definite knowledge as to when we would see each other again,
for the kiddies must be educated, you know.
Well, what if I am blowing my nose violently! Man, they aren't here
yet and what's more, they aren't coming for another year.
Well,--then came the pestilence; not the plague or the cholera or
any of those Asiatic diseases which you folk over there hear so much
about and really know so little of; but the plain smallpox with
which you are at least so familiar that you run away as soon as you
hear the word pronounced. The smallpox is usually with us here,
more or less, all the time; but somehow this season it was here in
tenfold fury. It swept over the city, but was worst in the section
where Shama Bhana's family lived. Several of our native church
workers had tried in vain to get entrance into his house since the
trouble had happened, but now they walked right in and took
possession unhindered, for the father himself and every member of
the family were down with the disease and the servants had all fled.
Shama Bhana's wife, whom they found in a dark chamber in the
servants' quarters, had the worst form of the disease because of the
hunger and ill treatment she had suffered since she had become a
mock-widow. Shama Bhana who had given up his place at the office as
soon as he heard of the situation came at once to his wife's side,
for there was no one to object. And as day after day our faithful
Hindustani preacher and his wife worked over that household, they
preached Christ as they worked whenever a mind was free enough from
pain to receive the message.
Three of the sons died, but the rest of the family soon began to
show signs of recovery. The old father, since his case had been the
lightest, as he had been vaccinated once years before in an English
hospital, recovered first. As he, in his weakness, lay and watched
the loving ministrations of the two Christians and listened to
their words, his heart seemed to be touched.
"Why do you do all this for me?" he asked one day. "Are you immune?"
The preacher's wife stood nearest him and she replied, "I have had
the disease but my husband never has. We are doing it for Christ's
sake, you know."
Later he called the preacher to him. "Where is Shama Bhana?" he
whispered. "Has he had it yet?"
The preacher replied, "He is here just now with his wife who is very
ill. The night that you were the worst he spent at your side. He has
not had the awful disease yet. Shall I call him to you?"
The preacher wondered how his words would be received and feared
that a violent rage would bring back the old man's fever. But he
only smiled faintly and to the question shook his head and said, "It
is the wrath of Shama Bhana's God."
He steadfastly refused to see his son and yet he did not seem to be
angry nor did he order him from the home. In a few days when his
strength had returned nearly in full measure, he called the preacher
to him again and asked him to walk with him through the house. So,
leaning on the patient preacher's arm, he went from room to room.
In every room with his feeble hands he tore down every sign of
Hinduism. The gods he took himself from their shelves and ordered
them to be thrown into the well. When all the rooms except the
servants' quarters had been thus cleared he turned to the amazed
pastor and said:
"Now call my son Shama Bhana and let me be baptized in his presence,
for now I believe as he has taught me and from now on we will stand
as Christians together and our household shall be a Christian
household."
But when the preacher went to summon Shama Bhana and to tell him the
good news, he found that young man on the floor beside his wife's
cot burning with a high fever and showing every symptom of the dread
disease. So the baptismal service was postponed while they worked to
save Shama Bhana's life. Two days later the pastor himself came
down. But as soon as I learned that the old man had been converted I
went at once to Shama Bhana. Before very long we had there a
household of well people, and such a happy household! Words cannot
describe it.
And so together since that time Shama Bhana, his father, and not of
less importance, his wife, have faced the Hinduism of Bombay in a
small but solid phalanx for Christ. The influence of the conversion
of that rich, strong Brahmin family has been marvellous, as you can
imagine, and is increasing every day.
We will go there this afternoon and see them all. Even Shama Bhana's
wife will greet you, for there is no purdah in that home now and she
will meet you as modestly, graciously, and courteously as any lady
in America. God's ways are wonderful, aren't they? But the most
wonderful thing about it all in my mind is that He always lets us
poor, insignificant men help in bringing His ways to pass. Had our
simple, faithful Hindustani pastor and his wife not been willing to
risk their lives for their love for Christ, probably Shama Bhana's
father would still be a Brahmin, his wife, most likely, dead, and
Shama Bhana himself still an outcast.
These are the romances of our work and they serve to throw out
against the dark background of Hindustani life and social customs
the capacity of our Hindu cousins for an appreciative interpretation
of the Oriental Christ and their willingness to share His life of
heroic sacrifice on behalf of others. The humblest of them
frequently rises to acts of great courage and chivalry.
[Illustration: "The humblest of them frequently rises to acts of
great courage and chivalry"]
Well, here we are! You didn't just expect to see grass huts under
palm trees as a suburb of the great city of Bombay, did you? And
there are the children gathered around the door of the schoolhouse
waiting for us. Aren't they beauties? Hadn't you better take a
picture of them to show to your boy at home? Their dress isn't
exactly American in style, that is true; but it is comfortable, if
it is rather exaggerated in abbreviation.
Salaam, boys! Salaam! Salaam!