“I WON’T marry him!” cried Maya, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Yes, you WILL!” replied Karnelius, her father, raising his fist.

“STOP!” Shouted Miriam, grabbing Karnelius’s arm from behind.  “You will not beat my child.”

This exchange, on a Saturday evening in early November, is the climax of four months of tension.  Karnelius, whose father converted to Christianity and who lovingly raised five children, is at his wits end.  He farms a tiny river-side plot which Ram Prasad owns.  The contract calls for Karnelius to give half the normal crop to Ram.  On a good year, the family can live for six months on the rest, but not this year.  The July monsoon rains fell only in early August, weak rains at first, but Karnelius transplanted the rice, too late for a bumper harvest.  Then in September rains poured down.  The river overflowed its low banks onto the flood plain, destroying much of the crop. 

Maya, aged 12 and busy with class 7 studies at the local school, is his youngest, prettiest, and smartest daughter.  Her three elder sisters married in their mid-teens and have settled in far away villages.  James, his eldest child, ran off two years ago and is out of touch. 

Miriam and Karnelius, who have struggled to raise their family well, are trapped in a downward spiral.  Karnelius has been away from home half of each year, laboring in other districts.  Still, there has never been enough.  Maya has great potential if she has the chance to study, but it will be seven or eight years before she completes a professional education.

A week earlier Karnelius sought Ram Prasad’s advice.

“I’m slowing down in middle age, and can’t bear being away for even longer this season.  There must be a way to keep going for Maya’s sake.  Months of hard field and factory labor and basic dormitory life are wearing me out.  Perhaps I should look farther afield for work, in Malaysia or the Middle East.  Some people return with money to buy land and build houses, but others come back in coffins.”

Karnelius has seen both.  Ashish left his family for two years, but on his return bought a shop in the bazaar.  His only problem now is to control his weight, something Karnelius will never worry about.  Sameer slaved for two years, saving money and sending a little home, but collapsed with T.B. and passed away before he could return.  He left a huge loan to his wife, Jamuna, who killed herself out of despair.  Their two children are now in an orphanage.  

 Karnelius has done a little homework.  A week ago he dropped in at the Happy Homecoming Employment Agency in the nearby bazaar.  The officer assured him that he was not too old to do labor work abroad.  The agency would arrange everything for him except his air ticket.  The agency would provide the rest of the financing.  If Karnelius were careful he could save Rs.50,000 per month.  Over twenty months that would come to Rs.10,00,000!  He could hardly dream of having so much money. 

Ram Prasad did not like the idea.

“Work abroad is too risky for you, Karnelius.  Miriam and Maya need to have you closer to home.  If there is an emergency you can come from another district, but you can’t return from far, and if you break your contract, you will lose your investment.  You will then never be able to repay your loan, and will be in a much worse state than you are now.

“Perhaps I can be of help, however.  I am forty-five, and my better half, Louisa, not much younger.  There is too much work for her to do.  It’s time for me to look for a second, younger, wife.  Were I to marry Maya, I could see that she continues her studies.  You would have no worries then.  You and Miriam could go off to do labor work together.  You would always be able to come and visit Maya.  We would welcome you into our home.”

Stunned, Karnelius wandered along the river bank next to his ruined paddy field. 

“Ram Prasad is right about my going abroad.  It would be two years of hell for Miriam and Maya, as well as for me.  There is no point in sharing the marriage idea with Miriam, but it is a possible solution.  Even the high caste people still give their daughters away as Kanya Dan, a virgin gift.  Perhaps this is the only path for Maya.  Miriam and I can manage on our own.  But it can’t be right, unless I get some support from an authority.”

The soft twilight brought Karnelius a little peace and courage.  “I’ll talk to Father Andrew.  He can show me the best way.”

Father Andrew graciously welcomed a nervous Karnelius, and the two sat on the rectory porch in the cool of the evening.  Karnelius explained his dilemma.

“Are you out of your mind, Karnelius?  How can you think of such action?  You are planning to break the law of the land.  Girls can marry only at the age of eighteen.  Sexual intercourse will ruin her physical, not to mention her mental health.  Marriage is a sacrament, a free commitment of a man and woman to share life and accept all challenges, as well as God’s gift of children.  On your wedding day you made that promise to Miriam in my presence, ready to accept whatever would come, with God’s blessing.  You and Miriam faithfully attended Sister Januka’s marriage preparation course and have continued to be a great support to the parish community. 

“Are you naive enough to buy Ram Prasad’s proposal?  Do you think he will let Maya go to school?  Not for a day!  She will become his wife’s slave and his sexual playmate.  That will be the end of your family life, and probably the end of the lives of each of you.  Don’t you have the courage and strength to reasonably face this passing problem?”

“Passing problem?  Father, I do want the best for Miriam and Maya, but I see no way out of this mess!  Yes, Sister Januka prepared us well for marriage and carefully taught us how to practice natural family planning, and to accept God’s gift of children.  Despite our efforts, God has blessed us with five children, but with resources to support only two.  God has blessed us with rain; too little in July and too much in September.  God has blessed us with a first-born son who has run away.  God has blessed us with a greedy landlord who robs us of the food we need. 

“Father, you are a good priest whom I have known since childhood.  You have seen our problems and have sympathized with us.  But you have not gone to bed at night wondering what to eat in the morning.  You have not seen your son run off, knowing that there is no future for him in the village.  You have not had to give away two daughters in marriages to the first families who asked, knowing that you have not a paisa to give as their dowry.  You have not experienced months of loneliness slaving to receive minimum labor wages so that your family can at least stay alive.  I don’t want to hurt my wife and youngest daughter, but I do want to at least keep them alive.  What can I do?”

The two men sat in stony silence as a waning gibbous moon rose to bathe the fields in soft light. 

“Thank you, Karnelius.  You have clarified your dilemma.  I am not sure what I can do, but I want to pray and ask God and God’s people to help.  All I offer now is a blessing and ask you to go home to supper now.  Please don’t upset your wife and daughter with this matter for now.  We will find a way out.”

Without a word, Karnelius slowly walked out of the moonlight into the shadows of the bamboo grove.    

Father Andrew, a man of his word, called a parish council meeting after the Sunday Mass, and without sharing the details of his conversation with Karnelius, presented the members with the family’s financial dilemma.  Slowly a solution took shape.  The parishioners could get enough funding together to pay for Maya’s school uniform and books.  Johan, who deals with Ram Prasad regularly, could confront Ram Prasad concerning his unjust contract with Karnelius.  However, Karnelius would have to take responsibility to support his wife and daughter.

Early Monday morning Johan visited Ram Prasad and gently confronted him.

“Ramji, our friend Karnelius seems to be terribly worried about something.  Perhaps it is his contract with you over his use of your land.  Does Karnelius have to give you a fixed amount of grain each season, or do you divide the harvest evenly with him?  I think the law states that the income and expenses for each crop season are divided evenly between the owner and tenant. 

“It is clear that Karnelius cannot make ends meet.  He simply must have more farm income so that he can live a hard but normal life with his family, without being away for half the time.  He wants the best for his daughter, and the best he can give is an ordinary village education, but he cannot even provide that. 

“You have plenty of land and a good business.  What worth is that little, sandy, flood-prone plot to you?  I don’t want to put you on the spot, but ask you to put yourself in Karnelius’ place.  How would you feel if you could not support your family?  Father Andrew will drop by in a day or two.  Please give him a little time.  Perhaps the two of you can come up with a solution.”

Father Andrew did talk with Ram Prasad, and invited him to the Parish Council meeting the following Monday evening.  Karnelius joined the group.

Father opened the meeting with a prayer of thanksgiving for the unity villagers enjoy, despite varied castes and creeds, and then continued:

“Thank you for joining our meeting to try to help Karnelius find a better way to support his family.  I have talked to all of you individually and in groups over the past week.  I remind you that Karnelius owns the problem, yet he is a member of our church and village communities.  We hopefully walk together for the good of all.  Would any of you wish to offer suggestions?”

“We cannot provide regular food for the family.  We hardly have enough for ourselves,” said Jeevan.

“But we can get enough money together to buy books and a uniform for Maya,” added Sita. 

“Please allow me, a visitor, to speak,” asked Ram Prasad.  “I am not of your faith, but I have watched you from a distance most of my life.  This week has been a time of agonizing growth for me.  I have been unjust to others, especially to Karnelius, demanding too much from him.  I have made selfish suggestions to him to better myself at his expense. 

Over this last week you could easily have filed a police case against me.  Instead, first Johan, and then Father Andrew, asked me to think about my words, actions, and attitudes.  That was too much for me, so I sat down with Louisa to share my pain.  Our solution is this.  Karnelius, I don’t need that land but want it to stay in my name.  I will write a contract with you allowing you to farm all the land without payment.  You keep the entire crop.  Should James wish to return and farm the land, he can continue with the same contract.  I want to have good people like you in my community.”

Now Karnelius and Miriam stand at their compound gate each evening, enjoying seeing their tired and hungry daughter return from school with a smiling face.  

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Bill Robbins, SJ sent photos he had taken of the children  of the region and also a note on the Proper Noun Spelling. "19th century missionaries gave biblical names to the baptized.These were transcribed into Devanagri script.The spelling took a beating when the Devanagri sounds were transcribed back
o English."