Pictures That Tell a Story

Nimi Kurian

1 June 2008, 10:20

Brother Devakripa paced his large, spacious drawing room. He had just returned from the bank and news was not good. If this continued he would have to cut down on his intake of chicken and fish, his use of the car, his telephone, his educative interest (as he liked to call it) in the spirits and oh! almost everything that he enjoyed.

“What can I do?” he wondered. “Come on! Come on!” he coaxed himself. “Think. Think. You can come up with an idea.”

And so he paced the drawing room. He was so troubled that he could not bear to walk up to his office.

“Darling,” said his wife Pansy. “I’m off now. I have some people coming over to talk to me about some goats.”

She ran a non-governmental agency for women. She empowered them by teaching them to sew, embroider, make pickles and juice on a large scale so that the products could be marketed locally. Her latest venture was with goats. She had found somebody who wanted to donate a special type of goat to the women. This special goat was supposed to be fed a special type of leaf and it would yield amazing quantities of milk. So the person who took the goat would also have to take the sapling and tend both the goat and the sapling. Pansy was worried whether the women would buy the idea.

“Mmm!” replied Brother Dev, not having heard a word of what Pansy had said.

“You’re not listening are you?” she said accusingly. “It’s always your work, your problems, your office…”

He woke up and reacted suitably. After all it was her money that had helped him along.

“No, no honey,” he said. “Don’t say that. It’s just I went into town and saw that there were so many sick people on the road. They need medical attention. But they do not have the money for it. I am troubled because I know the Lord is calling me to help them. But how can I?”

Pansy put aside her goats. Surely, the sick and the dying needed more thought than goats. She took out her cheque book.

“How much would you like, love? I will write you a cheque. You know I hate to see you so troubled.”

“Oh no! Pansy, you shouldn’t. This is something I have to work out. You carry on…”

As Pansy left, Brother Dev smiled. He had an idea. The excuse that had so easily rolled off his tongue was indeed the answer to his prayers.

He rushed up to his office. Rang the bell for Immanuel to come in and said, “Get me Malachi the photographer. I need him immediately.”

“Yes Brother,” said the ever-devoted Immanuel and ran away to do his master’s bidding.

Soon, Malachi was in the office.

“Malachi, I want you to go down to the Bedford Talkies and as the people from the cheap seats exit I want you to take pictures. Take close shots. I want their expressions. Take the shots in two sessions. After the matinee and after the late night show too.”

Malachi was only to happy to be of help to Brother Dev for he was convinced that he too was doing the Lord’s work.

The whole of the next day Brother Dev waited anxiously. He wondered if Malachi would get the right shots, the right angle, would the light be good…

A couple of days later, Malachi returned with lovely large colour prints. He handed them over to Brother Dev. The pictures had turned out better then he had ever imagined. The expressions on the faces were fantastic. It had been a tragic movie, so there were traces of tears on the cheeks of the women. Uncombed hair, tear stained faces, the dim lighting of the theatre causing their eyes to strain gave them a rather tired look. It was perfect.

In another week with more sets of the pictures in hand, Brother Dev skipped his way to the travel agent. He booked a passage for himself and his dear wife to go to America.

In America they had rather tight schedules. The church that was hosting them had put them on a lecture circuit. So they met different people through the day. They spoke about the poverty in India, the hardships and the lack of medical care. But, their favourite topic of discussion was of the difficulty of “living a Christian life in a pre-dominantly non-Christian country”. The gullible Americans who had absolutely no knowledge of India and its politics were troubled to hear of all that happened in India.

Most of them had no idea where India was placed on the world map. All that they knew was that India was a rather poor country and tigers and elephants roamed the streets – occasionally. So when the hat went around for collection, dollars poured in.

But Brother Dev had a trump card. After the final prayer when everyone was relaxed and enjoying small talk, he would casually bring out the large colour prints and show them around. With tears in his eyes he would explain how his heart went out to these people who ran from hospital to hospital, doctor to doctor in search of medical help.

“It is my dream,” he would say with a shake of his head, “to build a hospital for these people. To give them free medical care…”

So saying he would gather up the prints and pocket them. He had perfected all this to a fine art and the Americans without fail fell for it. While he mingled with the guests, he would see from the corner of his eye small groups of people gathered around, talking in hushed whispers. And at the end of the evening there would be a gate collection. He would be surprised when he was offered a large sealed envelope – rather heavy too.

At the end of two weeks Brother Dev and Pansy were back at home. It had been a thoroughly enjoyable and successful trip.

At the Sunday’s service he spoke about how wonderfully God had worked in their lives and how he was an instrument of His healing.

Monday dawned bright and clear. Immanuel hummed as he walked to the office. It was wonderful that they had this new project for the hospital going. It was wonderful that they would be able to help the poor and needy.

Enthusiastically he asked Brother Dev, “Brother Dev, so when do we begin work on the hospital?”

Brother Dev looked up from his papers, “Brother, God does not need hospitals to heal the sick. Have you not read the Scriptures? How many times has Jesus referred the sick to hospitals? Never! He laid hands on them and cured them…”

Noticing that Immanuel had a rather vacant look on his face, Brother Dev shook his head. He said, “Brother, we are but followers of Him. We will follow His methods!”

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