Why did a young couple who finished their schooling in Santhosha Vidhyalaya give their firstborn child a common Russian name?
How did several mothers from Manipur, Gujarat, Mizoram and Nepal find strength to part with their children for several years?
Why did one girl save an obscure letter in her leather bible for several years before revealing it on a regular Saturday morning?
Are each of these stories connected?
Does every story have an origin, and if so where does the story of you and me begin?
The clue to answering all these questions points to a whole series of events – some of which are described here.
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Our 8th Standard English books had a lesson on Prometheus from Greek mythology. Prometheus – the lesson said – took fire from the gods and gave it to humanity – an act that allowed progress, development, and even civilization. When we finished our 8th standard school year, most of us left what we had learned behind. And by the time we finished high school, most of us forgot the English lesson on Prometheus. Like lyrics from an old song, or the many patterns formed on a child’s kaleidoscope – that lesson, along with several others, faded into oblivion.
There was a time when a lot of the brick buildings in the Dohnavur fellowship lay vacant, and the only thing beneath the tiled roofs of Dohnavur were the stone pillars underneath them. The home for girls was still active in Dohnavur then, but the fellowship had decided to stop taking boys into their orphanage homes. As a consequence, one part of the Dohnavur Fellowship lay motionless, basking in its own silence – a lot of vacant space with no activity or the noise of children.
This was the late 70s. And a series of events were about to unfold.
In the late 70s, revival meetings across India were sending missionaries to tribal villages throughout the country. Many young men were convinced of divine calling and several of them committed their lives for the furtherance of the gospel. Office employees with well-paying jobs were quitting the comforts of their lives to start missionary organizations. Engineers and Doctors were taking to the streets with the Bible and a message. Graduates were dismissing their teaching jobs to embrace the adventures of “reaching the unreached” among the jungles and hilltop villages of northern India.
Most of these young cross-cultural missionaries had never been to these villages, or to the isolated mountain-dwelling communities in the south. And none of them were ready for the challenges that this new life threw at them. The food, the barriers of transport and language, the weather, and the inadequacy of their wardrobes to combat the ferocity of changing climes – all of these were new to them. The culture in the villages, the opposition from village heads and witch doctors (a surprising oxymoron that often goes unnoticed), the absence of seafood, each of these were difficult but with time and perseverance, they survived. These were people driven with passion and purpose, so they took each challenge head-on.
However, there was one pressing fear gnawing at their faith every single day – something that concerned their children.
The children of missionaries did not have access to education. Most mission fields were primitive and there was no electricity or roads leading to them. None of them had any schools near them.
The children of cross-cultural missionaries barely had any education, and if they did, it was what they could make do at their mission fields.
History records many children lost to malaria and other diseases from that time.
Several other children barely finished college. Missionaries did not have the money or resources to educate their children. They waited for answers.
And the answers were yet to arrive.
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Meanwhile in Tamil Nadu, a young missionary and his wife had accepted their divine calling and were about to set off to the mission field in North India. Before parting from their homelands, they wanted to bid goodbye to a dear friend – Prof. Ivan Balasingh. Apart from bidding goodbye, the young couple also had one personal request to ask of the Professor. They would go to their friend and ask him directly – face to face.
Professor Ivan Balasingh was a man of extraordinary vision and passion. Always swift in words and actions, he never shied away from challenges. Apart from his regular job at a college in Tuticorin, he often found time for evangelizing and grooming young leaders. When he wasn’t teaching his graduate students, he was busy preaching from the word and educating young college-going students to find purpose in their lives.
When the missionary couple reached the house of their Professor friend, they spoke about many things. But most of the topics from that discussion revolved around the need for reaching the unreached. There were tribal people perishing in their ignorance, and they had to be reached.
When the time came for goodbye, the young couple looked into the eyes of their friend and made their request.
My son is 2 years old. Who will educate him when he grows up?
I will. I will educate him. Like my own son.
The response was without any pause or delay.
The misty-eyed couple bid their farewell and parted to the mission field.
But their question had created an avalanche in Professor Ivan’s head. And the more Prof. Ivan thought about it, the more questions came to him.
What about countless other missionaries? People who are in the mission field but do not have friends to help them out. Who would educate their children?
Clearly, something had to be done.
With that vision, he set on a mission to start a school for the children of missionaries. He went on to start two of them. The schools were known for a good education, the children from those schools had a good command over English, they went on to finish college, take up responsibilities in their jobs, and travel around the world. Word about the schools went around the country. Missionaries from the north, east, west and south sent the kids to boarding school. Education was now possible, and progress wouldn’t be too far away.
There was a wooden placard in the boys’ hostel many years ago. The 8th standard boys who finished their English lesson on Prometheus would read the words on the placard, like the many batches of students before them. The placard had the following words written on it:
Where there is no vision, the people perish
Of course, we were saved by a vision. Or else, we might have perished without education like the children of many of the earlier missionaries.
In 2008, one alumnus from the class of 2002 found a letter her parents had received. It was a letter written in response to a Thank You Note from her missionary parents. The writer of the letter was Prof. Ivan Balasingh. It held the story of all of our shared childhood – the story of our origins. Our stories are entwined by our experiences at boarding school. Missionary kids, locals’ kids, teachers kids – all of our stories might not have been possible without this vision. This was where it all began. This was why a young couple who finished their schooling in Santhosha Vidhyalaya named their son Ivan. This is why the isolated brick houses in one part of the Dohnavur Fellowship now houses little children. This was the answer to many questions.
When the alumnus found the letter, she saved it in her leather bible, and it stayed there for several years.
Below is a scanned image of the letters:
Images (above): A handwritten letter from Prof. Ivan Balasingh
Photograph: Prof. Ivan Balasingh
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For his contribution to the laws of motion, Gravity, the field of Optics and inventing Calculus, Sir Isaac Newton is considered to be one of the most influential scientists of all time. Newton said, “If I have seen further (than any other man), it is by standing on the shoulders of giants”. He was referring to the scientists before him and their contributions to his insights. We echo the same thought.