A Lockdown Story of Hope
By Asha Peter, Edited by Jessica Peter
“Sundramma*, how are you doing?” I asked over the phone.
By the grace of God, I am good and happy, sister.”
“We all are concerned for you. The church is praying for you. Hope you are strong and not afraid?”
“Sister Asha, I am not afraid. My Jesus is with me. Every morning and often during the day I keep reciting Psalm 91. It is written, ‘Because thou hast made the LORD, which is my refuge, even the most High, thy habitation; There shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling.’ I hold onto this promise of God and it has kept me happy and peaceful for more than a decade.”
“Sundramma, we hear that where you live, the number of COVID-19 positive cases are increasing daily,” I said while glancing at the day’s news bulletin. “Your area has been declared a Red Zone, and notified as a Containment Area and sectioned off. There are also reports of violence in your area.”
“Yes, but nothing to worry. My Jesus is with me and I am safe. Nothing will come near my house; I know it and believe in my heart.” Sundramma’s voice resounded her faith.
Sundramma is a 54-year-old widow who cares for her father who is about 78 years old. Their tiny house is situated in one of the most densely populated areas in Bangalore. There are many small and narrow lanes; the neighborhoods resemble claustrophobic honeycombs. It is also infamous for antisocial elements. While Sundramma is a born-again believer in the Lord Jesus Christ, her father is a ritualistic Hindu.
Yes, people who are simple, poor and uneducated, like Sundramma, turn into giants when they put their faith in this Living God, roaring in the face of their adversities.
Let’s retrace Sundramma’s steps that brought her to her powerful belief in the Lord Jesus Christ.
My parents were religious and followed all the customs and traditions of Hinduism. My mother was a strong woman and made the decisions for our family. I was an indifferent teenager who lacked enthusiasm in school. In eighth grade, I dropped out and stayed home. My mother decided it was time for me to grow up and before I realized what was happening, I was married. Like every bride, I dreamed of marital bliss and off I went to live with my husband and his parents, away from everyone and everything I knew. I was just eighteen.
My fragile semblance of peace shattered as my husband’s family business slid downhill. I had three children and an alcoholic partner with an ailing heart. Like many struggling wives, I parted with the few gold ornaments my mother presented to me on my wedding day. I prayed feverishly to all the deities I knew.
The death of my husband left me more baffled than sentimental. Why hadn’t any of my gods relented? Fifteen years later, I was back in my parent’s home and everything had changed except for my mother’s devotion and discipline! She generously offered to help raise the kids. Death found me a second time and beckoned my mother. The gods did not flinch.
Years passed. On the morning of the Gowri pooja (a Hindu festival), my daughter Sandhya and I poured water on the outdoor stairway leading up to my sons’ room and washed it thoroughly. My two sons, Satish and Harsha, began to argue upstairs. From what I could hear, Satish kept an ironed shirt ready to wear to work and Harsha tried to sneak out wearing it. Harsha stepped out the door while Satish angrily tried to pull away the shirt. Satish pushed Harsha harder than he expected and the boy slipped on the freshly washed stairs and slid down the narrow concrete stairway. Everything blurred around me. Bleeding Harsha was rushed to a nearby hospital. The doctor’s words cemented my deepest fear: Harsha was gone. Local authorities registered Harsha’s death as a medical legal case.
The court sentenced my first son to life imprisonment (16 years according to Indian Penal Code) for first degree murder.
I buried my second son.
Sandhya, shocked by the incident, had a miscarriage. Her in-laws took her home and vowed to never send her back. My life fell apart, darkness shrouded my once lively household.
“Why me?” I wept. My grief knew no bounds and my family’s tragedy was on everyone’s lips but that is where the Living God found me, through my son Satish. Satish had heard the name of Jesus and His message through the Prison Fellowship of India and other groups. When the Holy Spirit convicted him, he committed his life to Christ! One day, when brother Vijay Kumar visited, Satish asked him to visit his mother. Brother Vijay’s father, L. Isaac, served the Lord through Source of Light India, South Zone, Bangalore.
A man came to my doorstep. “Are you Sundramma? Satish gave me your address. May I come in?” I was shaking already. Was this going to be more bad news? Brother Vijay Kumar not only informed me of Satish’s spiritual resolve but also shared the Good News of the Gospel. The Lord opened my heart and flooded me with the faith to believe in Him. I accepted the Lord Jesus Christ as my personal Savior and Lord. Peace came into my heart. I began attending church. By and by my faith grew. I even got baptized! It was during this time that I discovered what true happiness is.
Initially my father, my daughter, and all my relatives opposed my faith. With a quiet and gentle spirit, I told them about the peace I now have received. I hope they will all come to the knowledge of Christ.
My faith in Jesus Christ encouraged me to pray for my Satish’s early release. I hired a lawyer who proved Harsha’s death was caused by an existing skull injury and not solely by Satish’s actions. After serving eight years, my son was acquitted of all charges and walked free. My daughter now has a daughter and a son of her own. My father sold the house he owned and divided the money among himself, my brother’s wife, and I. It is not much. It is like the manna from heaven and water from the rock. I am happy and content.
An introvert by nature, Sundramma is always ready to testify for the Lord, sharing His goodness in her life without any hesitation. She joyfully expresses how she found rest in the shadow of the Almighty. Her Tamil Bible has promises marked and underlined.
When India began its war against COVID-19, the government took strict measures in Sundramma’s area. The cases were mounting by the day and because of the quarantine, we were unable to reach out with any possible help. Cell phones were our only way to keep in touch with her and encourage her. While multiple cases
were reported from her surrounding areas, Sundramma was the picture of Jesus sleeping in the boat while there was a tempest on the Sea of Galilee. I am amazed at her faith in the Lord. I know for a fact that her faith is rooted in God’s goodness and His faithfulness.
*Names changed to protect their identities.
