The Case of the Terrified Courier

The manuscript was now ready, but as yet the Tibetan Bible was not produced. The sheets were taken from Leh over steep mountain trails to Lahore, where the Bible Society prepared to complete the printing. They placed transfers on thin plates and put them through little "rocking" machines so that impressions could be brought out on white paper. The first set of proofs revealed a number of faults in the manuscript, and all agreed that one of the Tibetan scribes who had worked with Yoseb Gergan would have to make the corrections.

How would they get the proofs to Leh? The best plan seemed to be to dispatch them with a special courier who knew the mountain trails. Their search finally led to a pleasant young Tibetan, Sandrup, who owned a sure footed mountain mule. After the usual bargaining the two parties agreed on a price, and the Tibetan started his difficult journey. The journey to Leh would take him some fifty days with equal time to return. He would also spend some time in Leh. He promised to return in four months with the corrected proofs to Lahore.

Days turned to weeks and weeks into months while the Bible Society waited anxiously for its precious proofs. What had happened to their courier? Had he fallen among bandits or been caught in the war? Of one thing they were sure. He had never reached Leh where Gappel, the Tibetan scribe, anxiously waited for the proofs. What should they do now? All normal routes into Kashmir had been closed, and no mail was getting through by regular channels.

Chandhu Ray, Secretary of the Bible Society, called his staff together. "Our first effort to reach Leh has failed, but we must not give up. We have already prepared another set of proofs, but we do not know how to get them through to Leh. Do you have any suggestions?"

"Could we not post them?" suggested one young man.

"No; it's too uncertain. Every day there are fresh outbursts of violence, and many mail bags have been destroyed."

"Then our only hope is to send another courier through the mountains."

But how could they ask another man to face the unknown dangers of the mountains? Finally the old caretaker, Badi, spoke up.

"I know just the man to do the job for you. He is a pahari, a man of the hills who will succeed if anyone can. Besides, he is a Christian."

"Let's ask him," Chandlhu Ray concurred.

Bahadur willingly offered to take the proofs to Leh.

"You know you will face many dangers?" Chandhu Ray asked him.

"I know it will be difficult, but I know the mountain trails. And am I not a follower of Isu [Jesus], who will protect me?"

So with the prayers and good wishes of the Bible Society staff, Bahadur set out to follow the steps of the previous courier.

Each day before dawn he loaded his mountain pony and climbed along the treacherous trail. In the late autumn he had little fear of avalanches, but nights on the high trail were bitterly cold. Thoroughly familiar with the mountains, Bahadur was able to take a more direct route than the previous carrier and to avoid the villages in the valleys.

The trail lay over one of the most beautiful alpine areas in the world. In the distance gleamed the white seracs of the great Himalayas. The hillsides flashed scarlet and gold with autumn tints against the deep green of the coniferous forests. Far below, like golden handkerchiefs, fields of ripened grain gleamed along the valley floor. The grandeur of the hills spoke to the traveller of the love of God. With a prayer for protection and guidance he set his face toward the high passes ahead.

The distant goal came gradually closer until one final pass lay between him and his journey's end at Leh. The weather had been kind to him on the trail; he had passed through only occasional mild rains. Light snow fell, now that he was in the high altitudes, but real winter weather was yet to come.

As Bahadur and his horse climbed higher, Bahadur noticed thick clouds boiling up out of the valley far below. Then a freezing rain began to fall. He had no fears, however, as the trail was well defined and he was warmly clad.

But as he neared the top of the pass, an eerie silence prevailed in the mountains, except for his own laboured breathing and the clopping of the horse's hooves. In the distance the silence was broken by the echo of thunder as a storm passed over the next valley. Then he heard it: the rising whine of wind and rain as the storm blew up the far side of the pass. The man and his horse reached the top just in time to catch the fury of the storm.

Pulling his horse behind a sheltering rock, Bahadur squatted down, waiting for the storm to pass. The sleet had turned into egg-sized hailstones pelting the terrified horse. Suddenly there was a searing flash of light followed by the crash of thunder. The horse tried to bolt into the darkness, but Bahadur restrained it with tremendous effort.

Flash after flash of lightning glanced off the rocks around them, filling the air with the heavy smell of scorched earth. The thunder roared as though the demons of hell had gathered to defy the terrified traveller. Torrential rain followed the hail, pouring from the heavens like a waterfall.

Bahadur lay in terror against the heaving belly of his horse. Never had he seen a storm like this. He felt the hair rise on the back of his head. It seemed in the darkness as if fiendish hands stretched out to drag him off the mountain. He imagined he could hear the demons' muffled laughter.

"Oh, God," he cried, "help me now. Deliver me from Satan and his evil host. Protect Your Book!" His shouted prayer was answered by another flash of lightning, which laid him out insensible on the ground.

When consciousness struggled back, the storm had passed. He noticed that all was quiet, and he suddenly realised he was stone deaf. His horse stood by, held by reins fortunately twisted around the man's wrist. Staggering to his feet, he lurched down the trail to the town far below. It would be weeks before he would hear a sound, and then only faintly, as the storm had split his eardrums. At last he reached Leh and plodded along the little town's main street looking for the Christian chapel and the Tibetan scribes who lived next door.

News had reached the scribes that proofs were on the way, and they welcomed the bedraggled Bahadur. Finding him stone deaf, they led him to a low seat while they removed the pack from the horse. Eagerly they unfastened the saddlebags and reached in to pull out the proofs. With a startled cry Gappel, one of the scribes, jumped back

"Ari Bhai! What has happened here?" He upended the saddle bags, and soggy masses fell on the floor.

Bahadur cried out in dismay. The storm had done its work well. Water had filled the saddlebags, reducing the paper to pulp. Bahadur tried to unpick the sticky mess, but it was no use. His journey had accomplished nothing. He called God to witness what the devil had done to the precious papers.