To the Sikh in the Punjab State of India, long hair was the chief of the signs of their religion. A Sikh with his hair shorn was a Sikh no longer. Sundar Singh cut his hair. The shock of horror with which Sher Singh, the father of Sundar Singh, saw what his son had done was followed by an exhibition of anger such as Sundar had never witnessed before. His father was furious, and without hesitation ordered him out of the home, telling him he was no longer a member of the family. As an outcaste, he had no right in the courtyard. He must get out and get out quickly.

Sundar knew there was nothing for it but to obey. He did so immediately. With nothing but the clothes, he was wearing and clutching his New Testament, he went through the gate of the courtyard, not knowing where he would go or what he would do. No home would be open to him. There was no one to whom he could turn. He had no community.

He walked across to a tree, and sat down under it, shivering slightly.

Never before had been been in such a situation, without food, without shelter, without adequate clothing. He thought of the warmth of the family home, of the group gathered around the food tray, of the pile of bedding in his room – all so familiar, all within a few hundred yards of where he was now huddled – yet all irrevocably cut off from him.

Although outwardly he was in distress, inwardly he was experiencing such a deep fellowship with his Master that he often referred to it as his first night in heaven. Therefore, the hours of the night passed in blissful contentment. But as dawn broke, the practical aspect of his situation had to be faced. He could not remain there forever, under a tree in the village. Where should he go, and should he do?

The nearest place where he could hope to find a refuge was Rupar, a large village about 30 miles away, where he knew there was a Presbyterian Mission center. He decided that he would go and explain his position to the pastor there. Therefore, he set off on the journey – but not before, he had a final contact with one member of the family. His sister-in-law, unsmiling put some food under a verandah, the place where outcasts were allowed to eat, and indicated it was for him.

It was very humiliating, and Sundar felt it keenly. He picked up the food from the verandah. Only his hunger, an uncertainty about where his next meal would come from, drove him to this step. Sundar took the food, and set off for Rupar.

Several hours later, he arrived at the home of the Presbyterian pastor there, the Rev.P.C.Uppal, who received the young boy immediately with the utmost kindness. Uppal himself had been driven from his Hindu home when he asserted his faith in Christ, and knew the hazards faced by those who dared to do so from a similar background.

When, shortly after his arrival, Sundar began to have violent spasms of pain, the pastor suspected what had happened. So did Sundar. The food he had been given was poisoned. Within a short time, Sundar was bleeding from nose and mouth and Uppal sent an urgent message to the dispenser in the local hospital, while Mrs.Uppal did what she could to make Sundar comfortable. But when the dispenser arrived and saw Sundar, and heard his story, he refused to treat him.

“He is going to die”, he told the Uppals. “This is a very bad case of poisoning and he cannot recover…” The next morning, the dispenser arrived as promised, and to his amazement, he saw Sundar lying on the verandah, weak but free from pain, and even able to smile at him. Then he learned what had happened.

During the night Sundar had become convinced that it was not, God’s will for him to die, but that he should live to tell others about Christ. Gathering what strength he could muster, he had prayed that he might be healed. After seeing this miracle, the dispenser asked Sundar for a copy of the New Testament which he had looked at. It was a turning point in his life, though neither he nor Sundar realized it at that time.