4. “We Reject You Forever”
Chapter 4
“We Reject You Forever”
There he goes!” one of Sundar’s old friends yelled as Sundar rounded a corner on his way to the market. “Get him!”
Suddenly Sundar found his way blocked by the same group of hooligans he had led over the summer.
“Tell us you’re not a Christian,” one of them yelled. “It’s impossible.”
“Yes, we want to hear it from your own lips. Have you turned your back on Sikhs to follow the Englishman’s God?” another asked.
Sundar felt his heart beating under his muslin shirt. He took a deep breath and faced his friends. “It is true,” he said. “I did not wish to become a Christian, but Jesus appeared to me, and now I want to serve Him for the rest of my life.”
“It could be a short life,” laughed the tallest boy in the group as he produced a stout stick from behind his back. “What do you say now? Are you so sure that’s what you want?”
Sundar nodded. “Whether I live or die does not matter. I belong to Jesus Christ, and that is enough for me,” he said.
A nervous twitter of laughter arose from the group, and then the boys turned and walked away.
“We’ll get you later,” one of the boys shouted over his shoulder.
The mangoes and rice that Sundar had been sent to buy no longer seemed important. He walked past the market and found himself on the road that led to the holy man. He knew it well. It was the same road he had walked at least a hundred times with his mother. How he missed her. Now he wished she were still alive. He was positive she would have understood his quest and not mocked his new faith. She would have talked to Sher Singh on his behalf. But she was gone, and now there was no one to speak up for him. Sundar knew that his father was angry and embarrassed that he had converted to Christianity. Being a Sikh involved more than just religious beliefs. All Sikhs considered one another brothers, and to seal that bond, they all took the last name Singh. Singh, as Sundar had learned at his father’s knee, meant lion, and Sikhs were strong and brave—and true to one another. And now Sundar had broken that bond, betraying every Singh in India. It was a heavy burden to bear, and he could only pray that God would show him the way to get through the terrible crisis.
Eventually Sundar turned around and began walking back to Rampur, sure of only one thing—he had taken the name of Christ, and if that meant losing everything else, it was a trade-off he was prepared to make.
Thankfully, things went better at school. The Christian teachers prayed with Sundar and encouraged him not to give up his new faith. They told him that he was a natural leader and that if he stood up for Christ, other boys would follow his lead. And they did. Within a month three other Sikh boys were converted, and Sundar and the three others asked to be baptized. That was when trouble really began in Rampur. The people of the village could accept one convert, especially since Sundar had always been somewhat of a religious young man, but four boys snubbing the faith of their fathers was too much.
Sundar’s enthusiasm for his new faith had unknowingly inflamed the attitudes of the people of Rampur toward the missionaries, and the situation became dangerous. The Reverend Newton, principal of the Christian school, was brought before a magistrate and ordered to account for polluting the boys’ faith. The magistrate ordered the school to be shut down, and two of the new converts buckled under the pressure and renounced their Christian faith and returned to Sikhism. The third boy, Gurdit Singh, fled to a mission station two hundred miles away at Khanna, where reports coming back to Rampur said he had been baptized.
Sundar watched in shock as these events unfolded around him. Before he became a Christian, he had vowed to bring down the Christian school. Now, ironically, his conversion had played a large part in seeing the school closed. All he could do was pray that the situation would improve.
But it did not. Sundar learned that Gurdit’s father had gone to Khanna and pleaded for Gurdit to come home, telling him that his mother was very ill. When Gurdit arrived home, he found that it was a trick to get him back. His mother was in perfect health. Despite the trick, his family appeared to welcome him home and even to tolerate his new religion. But Sundar learned that a week after Gurdit had come home, he was killed. His brothers had poisoned him for disgracing the family name. Things in Sundar’s home were fast deteriorating as well. Sundar asked the Reverend Newton for help. The Reverend Newton had decided to stay on in Rampur, even though the school was closed, but he suggested that Sundar enroll in a boarding school for Christian boys at Ludhiana. Sundar thought that this sounded like a good idea, and the Reverend Newton arranged a scholarship for him to cover his fees and bought a train ticket for him to Ludhiana.
Sundar breathed a huge sigh of relief as he walked through the gates of Christian High School. The past few months had been the most difficult of his life, and he was glad to be among people who believed as he did. Sundar soon discovered, however, that most of his fellow students, even the Christian ones, did not share the joy of knowing Jesus Christ that he experienced. Despite all of the Bible study and prayer they engaged in, they seemed to care little about Christianity. Their attitude shocked Sundar, who began to wonder whether he would ever be surrounded by people who thought as he did.
Sundar was despairing over the state of things at the boarding school, when he received a letter from his father. With shaking hands he opened it and read:
My dear son, the light of my eyes, the comfort of my heart—may you live long. We are all well here and hope the same for you.… I order you to get married immediately!… Make haste and don’t disappoint us.… Does the Christian religion teach disobedience to parents?
You have gone mad! Just think for a moment who will take care of all our property! Do you want to blot out the family name? If you get engaged, I will bequeath to you all the sum of money now in the three banks (the interest of which amounts to three or four hundred rupees a month); otherwise you will lose what I have reserved for you.… It will be for your good if you come home at once.… I am not well.
The letter threw Sundar into a quandary. Yes, he had to agree, the Christian religion did teach that children should obey their parents, but it also taught that God must be honored above all else. Sundar did not know what to do.
Over the next few days, he prayed about his future. Should he stay at the boarding school or return home? The memory of Gurdit’s fate made thoughts of going home very sobering. However, as Sundar prayed about the situation, he became convinced that he should return to Rampur and live with his family once again.
Sundar was welcomed home by his father and brothers and did his best to fit in once again. But it soon became obvious that his father would not rest until Sundar renounced his Christian faith and returned to his Sikh heritage. On one occasion Sher Singh sent Sundar to visit his rich uncle. The uncle led Sundar into the basement of his house, where he had a large steel vault filled with stacks of banknotes and jewels that sparkled in the light of the oil lamp.
“I will allow you to have all of these riches if you will renounce your new faith and remain in the religion of your fathers and forefathers,” he told Sundar.
But Sundar’s mind was made up. “Thank you, Uncle,” he replied, “but I cannot accept your offer. I must follow the truth as I see it.”
With Sundar’s refusal of his uncle’s offer, persecution began again at home from his father and brothers. So when Sundar’s cousin Spuran invited him to come to Nabhu for a visit, Sundar gladly accepted the invitation.
Spuran Singh held high office in the service of the maharaja, or prince, of Nabhu State. The maharaja wielded much power and was revered by all. After Sundar had been in Nabhu two days, the maharaja called him to the palace for an audience.
Sundar was led into the magnificent palace, where the maharaja sat on an ornately carved throne. The maharaja motioned for Sundar to step forward.
“So you are Sundar Singh,” he began. “Why do you bring dishonor upon your race? Look, you wear the bracelet of a Sikh, your hair remains uncut in the fashion of the Sikhs, and you bear a Sikh name. So why is it that you do not behave like a Sikh? You are a Singh, the name your ancestors gave to you. Surely you know what it means, don’t you?”
Sundar nodded. “Yes, it means lion, my lord,” he answered respectfully.
“Then if you bear the name of a lion, why is it that you behave like a jackal?” snapped the maharaja.
Sundar said nothing, and the maharaja continued in a more restrained voice. “Give up this strange religion and return to the faith of your race and of your forefathers. Live up to the name Singh and all it means. If you do this, I am sure a position of honor and power, such as that your cousin Spuran Singh holds, can be found for you here at the palace. Now go and think seriously about what I have said.”
“Yes, my lord,” Sundar said as he turned and left the palace.
Sundar did think long and hard about what the maharaja had said. And he decided on a course of action. The words the maharaja uttered, “Your hair remains uncut in the fashion of the Sikhs,” played over and over in Sundar’s mind. When he arrived back in Rampur, Sundar took a pair of scissors and disappeared into his bedroom. Within minutes Sundar had cut off his long locks of jet-black hair.
There was no going back now. Sundar knew that, and that was precisely why he had decided to cut his hair. Every Sikh male was obligated by his religion not to cut his hair—the long hair was curled up tightly in a turban. But under Sundar’s turban there was no longer any long hair.
When Sher Singh learned what his son had done, his eyes grew black with rage, and Sundar trembled.
“We reject you forever,” his father said.
Sundar knew what was coming next; the words were those of the formal denouncing of a child. They were the most dreaded words a father could say to his son or daughter.
“In the name of the whole family, I declare you are no more worthy to be called our son. We shall have nothing to do with you. We shall forget you as if you had never been born. You will leave this house with nothing but the clothes on your back and never return,” his father continued. Then he paused, turned, and pointed to the door, and snapped, “Now go.”
Sundar’s head was spinning as he opened the door and walked out of his childhood home. At fifteen years of age he was now alone, without family connections or even a place to sleep for the night.
It was twilight, and Sundar wandered in a daze until he came to the edge of the forest, where he made a bed of leaves and lay down. He passed the night fitfully, and in the morning he examined the contents of his pocket. He had his New Testament and enough money to buy a one-way train ticket. But where should he go? Sundar puzzled over the question until finally he decided he should return to Ludhiana and continue his schooling.
The train to Ludhiana was due to pass through Rampur in half an hour. Sundar quickly got up and began making his way to the station. As he walked back into the village, people spat at his feet and cursed him. One woman made a big show of washing herself at the well after Sundar’s shadow fell on her. But Sundar hardly noticed the people. He was hungry, and for some reason his stomach was hurting and he was beginning to feel weak.
Sundar had just enough money for the fare to Ludhiana. He took his ticket, climbed onto the train, and found a hard, wooden seat, where he flopped down. How he wished his stomach would stop hurting, but the pain only seemed to get worse. Finally, half an hour into the train trip, Sundar felt the urge to vomit. Quickly he pulled down the window. No sooner had he stuck his head out than the contents of his stomach burst from his mouth. As the vomit ran down the outside of the carriage, Sundar noticed it was mixed with blood. Then the sad realization hit him: his family had poisoned him before they sent him away, and now he was dying.
Sundar was sure that he would not make it alive all the way to Ludhiana, and he prayed that God would show him what to do next. Suddenly he remembered that one of the Christian teachers who had been run out of Rampur when the school was closed had settled in Rupar, the next stop for the train. Sundar decided he would get off the train at Rupar and find the teacher, the Reverend Uppal, and his wife.
It seemed like forever before the train pulled into the station at Rupar. Sundar stumbled from the carriage and made some inquiries as to how to get to the mission house. Somehow he managed to stumble there and knock on the door. The Reverend Uppal opened the door, and Sundar slumped unconscious into his arms.
Sundar was not sure how much time had passed, but when he regained consciousness, he was aware of two men talking outside the room in which he lay on a bed.
“There is nothing more I can do, Mr. Uppal,” he heard one of the voices say. “The boy will surely die soon, before the night is over, I expect. There is no point in my giving him any medicine; there is nothing I can give him that will help his condition. I will call again in the morning, and we can make arrangements for his funeral then.”
“Yes, thank you very much, Doctor,” Sundar heard the Reverend Uppal say.
Die? I am not going to die. God has work He wants me to do. This new resolve swept over Sundar as he lay semiconscious on the bed. And in those moments when he became fully conscious, he prayed fervently that God would heal him.
As the morning sun rose over Rupar, Sundar opened his eyes and began to sit up. His stomach had stopped hurting, and he was beginning to feel his strength return. Mrs. Uppal, who had sat with Sundar throughout the night tending to him, looked shocked. She looks like she has seen a ghost, Sundar thought.
“It is all right, Mrs. Uppal,” Sundar said in a weak voice. “God has healed me. He has things yet for me to do, and no poison shall stand in the way of His purpose. Now, please help me outside onto the veranda so I can lie in the sun.”
Two hours later Sundar was well enough to laugh when the doctor came to visit him. The doctor had come to arrange a funeral, and instead he found his patient sitting outside in the sun well on his way to making a full recovery.
But now that he was feeling better and was not going to die, Sundar had to plan his next step.