Urban

“My parents were very poor, and had great difficulty in bringing us up. My father worked as a servant in other people’s houses, and my mother did any work she could get. When I was old enough, I was placed by my father in a house as gwala (cow-boy). I was in the fields all the day, and kept the cattle.
“When my mother got the disease, my uncle said to her, ‘Give the boy over to us; we will take care of him while you are ill.’ But my mother would not, and said, ‘Even if my child became ill, I would not give him up.’
“My disease was not yet apparent, and not until I had eaten and slept with my mother, did it show itself. I had to leave the house, because my friends and relations would no longer tolerate me.
“My mother went about, and we supported ourselves by begging, but, when the people saw us in the distance, they called out, ‘Make haste and go away, and don’t come near.’
“Then it was we heard that the missionary in Purulia accepted and cared for such poor people as we are. We made up our minds to go, and we came and saw that many men, women, boys, and girls bad been received.
“Oh! what happiness has fallen to my share! Now I learn to read and write, and have good clothes and food. Where should I have been unless such an institution existed? ― perhaps dead, and the birds had eaten my body.
“Blessed are those who have shown us so much love and kindness I used not to know that it was wicked and sinful to steal, but now I know better, and praise God for it, that He has bestowed the better part on me.”
“URBAN.”