The mirror and the bracelet : $b or, Little bullets from Batala — John Shaqi
The mirror and the bracelet : $b or, Little bullets from BatalaA. L. O. E.
General
The mirror and the bracelet : $b or, Little bullets from Batala
A. L. O. E.
Children's stories; Christian ethics -- Juvenile literature; Moral education -- Juvenile literature
The question had to be repeated before any answer was given.
Then said Gopal, "It is not the pain that I cannot endure; I know that
it cannot last very long. You see yon crescent moon in the sky? Before
she reaches the full, I know that my funeral pile will be lighted." And
he gave a heavy sigh.
"Do you ever think of what will come to your soul after death?"
inquired the Christian.
"It is that which troubles me," groaned the Hindu, who could no longer
refrain from pouring out his griefs. "I don't know through how many of
the eight million four hundred thousand transmigrations I may already
have passed. I have had no time for pilgrimages, and no disposition for
contemplation. I have led an active life, and have never spent many
pice on feeding Brahmins. And, what is worse than all—" he stopped and
looked anxiously around, as if afraid of being overheard.
"No one else is near, you may speak freely," said Isa Dás. As Gopal
remained silent, he suggested, "Perhaps you have been tempted to steal?"
The sick kahar shook his head.
"Perhaps you have borne false witness in a court of justice?"
"Worse than that," sighed Gopal, who, like most of his countrymen,
thought little of lying. "A Jogi came to my door, and asked for alms.
It was a time of scarcity. I had scarcely enough of food to keep soul
and body together. The Jogi looked fat and well-fed. I told him I had
nothing to spare. The Jogi sat at my door from morning till noon,
with a loud voice demanding pica; and I gave him nothing—woe is me!—I
gave him nothing. Then the holy man got up in a rage, and cursed me;
from that day I have never been well. And now I feel sure that when I
die, my soul will go into the body of an ass or a swine. I shall be
punished in my next birth for the crime committed in this!" The poor
superstition-enslaved Hindu groaned again at the thought.
"Oh, brother!" exclaimed Isa Dás. "If you were a Christian, you would
be troubled by no such idle fears!"
"In your religion, do you not believe in new births?" asked the Hindu.
"Only one new birth, a death unto sin, and a new birth unto
righteousness. We believe in one great change, the change of heart
which comes when he who knows himself to be a sinner believes from his
heart in the Saviour of sinners."
Isa Dás had repeatedly spoken thus to the Hindu, but this was the first
time that his words had seemed to have the slightest effect.
Gopal looked earnestly at his friend for some moments, and then said,
"I know that you believe that Jesus Christ saves sinners, but I cannot
see in what way."
Isa Dás had never found Gopal willing to listen to a verse from
the Bible, so he thought that he would begin his explanation by an
illustration from Indian history. "Have you ever heard of the love of
the Emperor Babar for his son?" he inquired. "Or what he did when that
son was thought sick unto death?"
The story is widely known, but the Hindu kahar had not heard it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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