Narayan, "The Birth of Pravachak" (short story translated from Hindi)
https://hindikahani.hindi-kavita.com/Pravachak-Ka-Janm-Narayan.php
Translated from Malayalam into Hindi by V.K. Ravindranath
(Originally published in ‘Yuddhrat Aam Aadmi’ magazine)
Keywords: Christian missionaries; Religious conversion; Health care; Education
"Man has always been a sinner. His continuous journey through sins—is it for liberation? In the beginning, he sinned."
At first, Chandran, a 'Mannan' (a Dalit caste from Kerala), didn’t quite understand anything. He just kept listening.
Limping on his left leg, with a slate covering his head, the rain-soaked son was asked by his father, “Hey, didn’t the teacher come again today?”
The boy just shook his head, "No."
For the past few days, it's been raining continuously, so how could the teacher climb the hill and come? And even if he did come, he would get more interested in secretly tutoring some older girl. He would himself ask, “Hey, what will you even gain by learning the alphabet?”
The boy, sitting on the veranda pressing his emaciated shin with his palm and glancing alternately at his mother and father’s faces, had pain welling up in his eyes. Just like his grandfather’s mantras, his medicine too was useless.
That day too, before the effect of the liquor wore off, Chandran had started climbing the hill. On the way, he met those same preachers who stood there daily, delivering sermons.
“Your hearts are filled with sin. The reward for sin is death.”
While resting to catch his breath, Chandran thought—‘Why are these people shouting so loudly, even though there’s no one listening? What sin has my seven-year-old son committed? Is it a sin that I and my wife gave birth to him? If it is, then my father and grandfather also committed the same sin. There’s a strange temptation in committing this sin. And women, after committing it, are rewarded.’
Chandran’s wife often told him, “If you let the child lie around like this, he will die.” What sin had that seven-year-old child committed? To keep him alive, they used both mantras and medicine.
A gentleman who had come to the ghat to buy cane said that the boy should be shown to a good doctor. He mentioned who the good doctor was, where he lived, and gave other details.
Limping, the boy came close and held his father’s shoulder—“Father, my leg.” Hearing his groan, Chandran’s heart sank. The cane-buyer again said, “If the doctor treats him with care, he will surely be cured.”
The boy had been receiving treatment for several days. Almost half of Chandran’s wages were being spent on it. Yet, the leg kept weakening. Chandran often didn’t even feel like going to work. He wondered, ‘Why even bother?’
Chandran decided to go to the doctor the cane-buyer had suggested. He collected money from various sources. Carrying his son on his shoulders, he set out. Those who saw him on the way didn’t ask much—this was a familiar sight.
After a long wait, the bus, which rarely passed that route, finally came. Somehow, he squeezed in. Even holding onto the upper rails was difficult. Amid the push and pull from all directions, he somehow balanced himself and safely held the child.
When he stepped out carrying his trembling, shivering child, he finally felt some relief.
He got a token slip made from the woman sitting behind the old table and stood at the end of the long queue to meet the doctor. Unaware of the slow-moving line, the limping boy wandered around observing the surroundings.
Once inside, Chandran felt a coldness on the doctor’s face. He unwrapped the money note and placed it on the table, saying, “Please check my son properly, doctor.”
The doctor smiled and looked. Seeing that there was no trace of coercion on the half-open note or on the man who placed it, he calmly slid it into the drawer. “Why did you take so long to bring him?” the doctor asked, now sounding generous. Chandran stood silently as the doctor added, “Come back after ten days of taking this medicine.”
The pharmacist looked at the prescription and said, “We’re out of stock here. You’ll have to buy it from outside.” He also told him the name of the shop where it was available.
All the medicine prices were high. After buying them, Chandran checked his pockets and found only the bus fare and some loose change left. His heart yearned to see a familiar face—to borrow some money.
He bought a banana fry and tea for his son.
As they climbed the hill and neared the house, the boy slid down from his father's shoulders. Limping, he inspected the pebbles, trees, and plants around him, touching each one as he moved forward. He asked his father several questions—like what the tube hanging from the doctor's shoulder was called, why he tapped on his knee with a finger, and why he shone a light into his eyes and mouth.
“I don’t know,” his father replied.
That answer irritated the boy. “What kind of father doesn’t know anything!”
Seeing the father and son return, the mother came down into the courtyard.
“Here’s the medicine. These red pills—you have to give two in the morning. And the white one—give one in the evening.” In response to Chandran's instructions, his wife exclaimed, “Oh God, at least let these medicines cure our son’s leg.”
Whenever he got his wages, Chandran would head straight to the liquor shop and return home empty-handed.
Watching their son take the pills, Chandran felt a heaviness in his heart. The boy’s limp worsened, and his foot dragged along the ground. When the pain intensified, he would stand leaning on something and silently cry with sorrowful eyes. His mother Mani's eyes would also fill with tears. She reminded her husband, “Give the doctor some more money—then he’ll prescribe better medicine.”
Knowing well how destitute Chandran was, Mani took the necklace from her neck and handed it to him. “Sell or pawn this, but get some money. We *must* take our son to the hospital.”
But the moneylender refused to accept the necklace as collateral. “Get out of here, or I’ll call the police.” Bewildered, Chandran stood speechless as the man added, “That’s fake gold plating! Who sold this to you? Don’t you dare take it elsewhere—if you do, you’ll end up in jail.”
“This damn thing is your necklace!” Chandran shouted at home, flinging the necklace at his wife’s face.
“What happened? Couldn’t sell it?” her question made Chandran snap.
“It’s not gold, it’s just plating!”
“Who said that? It’s the wealth given by my father!” Mani replied.
Chandran, irritated again, barked, “Give that wealth back to the old man then!”
Chandran borrowed money from some acquaintances. He wrapped the money in paper, tied the bundle at his waist, put on a shirt over it, folded his dhoti, and layered it on top. Carrying his son on his shoulders, he began descending the hill. Nowadays, people don’t even want to walk short distances. At the bus stop, a crowd stood jostling to get in.
“Where are you off to with the boy?” someone asked. Then, seeing the boy closely, added, “Still limping, huh?”
“No,” Chandran replied simply.
When the overcrowded bus finally stopped in front of the hospital, he got off, relieved. He put his son down and felt for the bundle at his waist—his dhoti had torn near the tied section.
Chandran was stunned.
The bundle of money was gone.
A cry escaped his mouth—“Oh God!”
Clutching his chest, he sat down by the roadside. His son touched his body, calling out to him. Chandran looked at the boy’s face and his frail, withered leg with helpless eyes. *How will I see the doctor now? How will I buy medicine? And I still have to go back!*
Overwhelmed by helpless rage at the unknown thief, he sat there watching the passersby.
“Babuji, Babuji!” the boy called out, and Chandran snapped, “Shut up! You were born with this cursed disease and still won’t die!”
The boy began to sob. Seeing him, Chandran’s heart softened. “Don’t cry, son.” He wiped his tears, hugged him tightly, and whispered, “Someone stole our money, son.”
Seeing the father and son crying helplessly by the roadside, a man in white clothes approached. Chandran recognized him as the preacher who used to give sermons at the hill.
He was the one who often repeated: *Sin earns its reward—and that reward is death.*
The man asked, “You’re Chandran, right?”
Chandran nodded.
The gentleman inquired about everything and said sympathetically, “Come with me, brother. Don’t worry.”
Together, they went to the doctor. The man said something to the doctor privately.
The doctor examined the boy and prescribed another ten days of medicine. The same man bought all the medicines. He even gave money for food and bus fare.
Gratefully, Chandran said, “Sir, I’ll never forget this favor. Within a week I’ll—”
“Don’t worry, brother. Money exists to meet needs. When it’s with me, it’s mine; when it’s with you, it becomes yours.”
*Who could have taken the money from me?* Chandran wondered, but said nothing.
With thoughts of that kind man who helped him in his time of need, Chandran began climbing the hill again.
Mani was stunned to see an unexpected group arrive at their home. It consisted of six or seven women dressed in white saris with blue borders and blouses covering their arms to the elbows. The men accompanying them also wore white. Most of them carried black-covered books. The men stayed in the courtyard, while the women, calling Mani “sister,” entered the kitchen.
“This isn’t how you should store things. Drinking water must be covered,” one of them said. When another picked up a broom to clean the trash, Mani quickly did it herself.
They asked about the number of family members and their income. Just then, Chandran returned home and was startled to see the crowd. The gentleman who had helped him at the hospital was among them.
*What if they ask for the money back today? I won’t be able to repay it now.*
“Ah, this must be brother Chandran! Where had you gone? Didn’t even notice the guests at home?” one of them joked. Embarrassed, Chandran laughed.
The people around him had the look of those delighted to have found new prey.
*How should I welcome them?* he worried.
One by one, they introduced themselves.
The family spread mats for the guests in the verandah. One of the women sat down with the sick boy in her lap and said, “We will pray for this child to be healed, brothers and sisters!”
Mani sat beside her.
After an earnest prayer, the group leader said, “Don’t worry at all, brother. Have faith in the merciful Son of God, Jesus. In His name, I say this child *will* be healed. This family is blessed by the Almighty Lord.”
Other Mannan men and women kept coming by with their children to inquire after the boy.
Smiling at them, the group leader declared:
“O good children of God, listen. The Lord gives us suffering to test us, for all humans have sinned. For deliverance from sin and to enter the Kingdom of God, we must pray to the Son of God, the Almighty. It was to forgive human sin that He was crucified and chose death. Come, let us all sing His praises. Amen!”
After the devotional singing, the gentleman who had earlier helped Chandran said to him, “We will come again, brother. All of us will go around the homes in this area together. Do you agree?” Chandran replied, “Yes, I agree.”
That day, the group was larger than before. Some of them carried utensils, clothes, and packets of food items. One of the women said to Mani, “This is all for you, sister.” Mani’s eyes lit up on seeing such expensive items. She had never seen such things before, and now she was getting them for free. Suddenly, that sister’s voice was heard, “The Lord knows the condition of this family. Let’s cook food and feed everyone.”
A doctor was also with them. He patiently examined Chandran’s sick child in detail. “I will take care of all the treatment for this child. He needs medicine and divine grace. We must pray for the Lord’s blessings.” Then he told the child’s parents, “You won’t have to spend a single penny for your son’s treatment. A vehicle is waiting below the hill to take you to the hospital. Come with me.”
Thanking the Lord for that day’s meal, the group sat with the family to eat. Afterward, singing hymns with Chandran, they went to the neighboring houses.
Mani was dazzled by the wealth received for free. Her husband looked at her with excited eyes from among the people. He was now fully convinced that a miracle was about to happen.
Chandran and his family rode a jeep from the foot of the hill to a new hospital. The doctor, whose hair was fully gray, examined the child. After thinking for a while, he said, “Let your little one stay here for a few days.” A nurse, dressed in a white sari with a blue border, laid a sheet on the cot and helped the child lie down. She told Chandran, “By God’s grace, the child will recover soon. If you have work at home, you can go. Your wife will be safe here. A sick child needs a mother’s care.”
Mani whispered in her husband’s ear, “We don’t have any money. If we don’t have to give anything here, how will we manage without money?”
Chandran said, “Yes, I’ll see if I can find some work.”
While getting off the bus at the foot of the hill, Chandran didn’t feel anything special had happened. But when he reached home, a few community members inquired about his son, which was a completely new experience for him. Those who earlier avoided speaking when they saw him now asked about his well-being. Leela said she was willing to accompany Sister Mani for support. But since her character was questionable, Chandran gratefully declined the offer.
Some Mannan women, who used to go to the city with the headman saying they had work and would return after two or three days, now returned wearing new clothes and carrying money. They would unabashedly display their beauty in front of other men. Those who objected were insulted by them. Some men, addicted to alcohol and marijuana, became a burden on their families. They also acted as middlemen in the smuggling of ivory and sandalwood between dacoits and forest officials. But all these people seemed to have had a change of heart. Who changed their minds?
Abortion is essentially equivalent to murdering an innocent life. Stealing others’ wealth, lusting after a neighbor’s wife, lying—these are all acts that open the gates of hell. So, do not walk that path, brother. Earlier, when such teachings came without any support, people used to treat them as mere jokes.
Some Mannan men and women came to the hospital. They brought fruits and sweets for the child. They stood lovingly around the child and prayed. Mani and Chandran were surprised to see that some of the people coming to hear the sermons were from their own village.
“Even for a moment, selling one’s body to another is a sin. Lusting after someone else’s wife or land is a sin, brothers! May no sister from our divinely blessed village go into prostitution. Don’t quarrel among yourselves by consuming alcohol and other intoxicants. If you work hard on the land with sincerity, the soil will yield gold. Let us vow to live our lives with love and mutual help, as the Lord’s chosen people, without accusing one another.
Let’s keep our blessed homes clean. Share a part of whatever you have with a poor neighbor, and eat only what is left.”
“If my neighbor is unhappy, I will sympathize with him. I will pray to the Lord for his happiness.” Everyone softly repeated these prayerful words. Fasting and group prayers were held to seek divine grace.
Chandran’s son came there slowly, holding his mother’s hand. Like his parents, he was also dressed in nice clothes. That day, the doctor told the group, “The child will recover soon. It’s all the Lord’s grace.”
“Glory be to the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”
Chandran and Mani gained divine knowledge that their family had been blessed. Filled with satisfaction and gratitude, they looked at the group, and with devotional eyes looked toward the sky and folded their hands in reverence. When people touched and patted the divinely healed child, the senior pastor asked, “Do you wish to be free from sin?” Some members of the divine congregation were present to share their testimonies. The junior pastor anointed Chandran and Mani with holy oil and sprinkled water on their heads. Chandran was renamed Daniel, Mani became Mary, and their son was named Samuel.
With pure minds and bodies, when Daniel and his family returned to the hill, the first rains had moistened the earth with joy. The wilted shrubs were filled with new enthusiasm. Fresh shoots had sprouted all around. Mary cleaned the house and courtyard. In the evening, sitting with her son, she sang a newly learned hymn. Even before, evenings would come regularly, but no one noticed them.
One by one, days of prosperity passed by through divine grace. The pastor said that everyone should prepare for salvation through baptism. The gentleman who had helped them earlier took Daniel along to buy clothes needed for the occasion.
A small crowd had gathered by the stream that joined the river from the foot of the hill. Some people held musical instruments. Looking up to the sky, they offered prayers with folded hands. Daniel and his family stepped into the water. The pastor sprinkled water over their heads. Then the instruments on the bank began to play.
The enlightened Daniel realized through divine insight that there was a deep wound on the hill that needed to be cleaned and healed. Along with Mary and others, he visited the houses there. The preachers and hymn singers created a divine uproar that caused the hill to tremble. Little Samuel, whose leg was now healed, began studying in a city school. He read new books and remained an obedient and disciplined son before his parents. A sparkle of hope and faith glowed in his eyes. The faithful on the hill felt the need for a common platform for group prayers and planning. A permanent pastor was also needed to replace the weekly visiting one. Daniel’s house was at the top of the hill. One Sunday, addressing the group, he said, “I will donate land to build a temple for the Son of God.” The proposal was gladly welcomed.
The land chosen for the church was on a rock. Daniel received a good price for it without asking. With locally available bamboo, reeds, and grass, a small church was built. The pastor came and formally inaugurated it and began prayers there. The road to the church was paved with stones and cleaned by the believers.
Through hard work, the soil yielded good crops of black pepper and coffee. Huge bunches of bananas grew in the orchards. They needed good prices for the crops, better houses to live in, and at least one doctor’s visit a week. Their needs kept increasing.
The government school teacher had long left the school. One night, when nature was in turmoil, a storm and rain destroyed the tribal school, unable to withstand the force. Most people were happy with its sad end. Patres agreed to donate a bit of flat land in the valley for a new school. Others agreed to work as laborers without permission. After all, they were tribal at heart.
A new school was built. God-loving and human-loving people came as teachers. The believers declared that anyone could receive education in the new school regardless of caste or discrimination. Arrangements were made for children’s clothes, study materials, midday meals, and monthly health checkups. Everything was free. The parents of the children were also examined by doctors. The needy received medicines and moral teachings, and in return, they contributed to the children’s meals.
The students, who became more literate even if not fully aware of God, went to cities for higher education. This process continued steadily.
The affluent decided that instead of spending regularly on repairs to the church, they should build a solid structure, and everyone would contribute according to their capacity.
With cement, sand, and wood loaded on their shoulders, the believers climbed the hill like a line of ants. Among them were masons and carpenters. After initial successes, some people’s enthusiasm cooled. They again sought refuge in alcohol and women. The appointment of a permanent pastor for the church was announced. They eagerly awaited his arrival. The elderly senior pastor, walking with a staff and supported by someone else, climbed the hill followed by a crowd. He stretched his staff toward the believers and blessed them.
In the church, the faithful sat on both sides of the specially prepared stage. Samuel, dressed in a white uniform, was made to stand before the congregation by the senior pastor, who said in a trembling voice, “Children of the Lord! This one among you is your new shepherd. Listen to him.”
An old woman who was looking closely at Samuel asked the woman beside her, “Hey, isn’t this Daniel and Mary’s son Samuel, Chinnamma?”
Chinnamma replied, “Yes.”
Then a unified voice rang out, “Amen.”
This translation from Hindi was assisted by ChatGPT.