I was born in the UK, the last of 4 children, to a Brahmin Hindu couple who had emigrated from Kerala in 1955. My father was not religious in any way; in fact, he was very political, seemingly an atheist and had been a journalist for a communist newspaper in the 1940s during turbulent times in India. He had been in jail for some time for his political beliefs and fighting for Independence. He married my mother immediately after India’s Independence in 1947 when he was 29 years old and she was just 15 years old. My mother was very religious and she brought us up in the Brahmin tradition in the UK at a time when the South Indian community was very small. As a result I only recall one very brief occasion when we met with South Indians, when I was about 9 years old; so brief was the event that we were rushed in and out of the venue as quickly as possible (the Commonwealth Institute, London where we watched a South Indian movie for the first and only time), for reasons which would only become evident many years later.
After arriving in the UK in 1955, my father became a travelling salesman. My mother looked after my 3 older siblings who arrived in rapid succession, and later myself at home. When I was about 3/4yrs old my mother started working for BOAC (now known as British Airways). At this time, we were living in Southall, Middlesex, which saw a huge influx of North Indians in the early 1960s. As children we never thought about race issues. We happily grew up with our classmates and neighbours’ children and we never felt any different to them.
We went to India for the very first time in 1963. The intense heat, strange smells, unfamiliar sights, animals, and strange customs created memories which would last a lifetime. It was the first of several bi-annual family trips to India, which would lead to my questioning my purpose in life as our fairly comfortable upbringing in the UK contrasted sharply with the poverty and suffering I witnessed in India. It left me disturbed and frightened.
When I was about 3 years old, a stranger visited my parents’ house, took me out to a fair, and bought me sweets on the way. I did not know who he was or why he was there but when I was brought back to our house, my mother screamed at him in a language I could not understand, throwing the sweets into the back of the large cupboard in the lounge. I never saw the man again but from then onwards I developed a fear of men and became frightened of my mother’s temper. I never talked about the incident to anyone throughout my life as I realised over time that this man could have abducted me. Who was he and why did he take me away without asking my mother for permission? These questions haunted me for many years.
At the age of 10 years, I experienced racism for the first time. The fact that it came from a group of school friends whom I had known since I was 4 1/2 years old, (they were Punjabis and one was an Anglo- Pakistani Muslim), made it worse. They decided to create a gang – “the make-up gang” – but they told me I was not allowed to join the group. Suddenly I was no longer one of their friends. I played on my own for hours in the playground, my heart breaking because I was now an outsider. I was told by the girl who created the gang that they were Jats and I was NOT! My mind was left reeling as we looked the same, our mothers all worked for BOAC and yet I had been excluded for some irrational reason. The trauma of this racism was to remain with me for many years after I became a Christian so much so that I was unable to interact with other Asians.
During one summer holiday, I was at a local park with my older siblings. As I eagerly waited for a child on a wooden swing to pause so I could have my turn on the swings, I looked up. The girl pulled the swing forward, so fast and low that it went crashing into my forehead, stunning me. The pain was excruciating and was likely to be the cause of a condition which would lead to depression and daily headache syndrome for much of my life.
The isolation of growing up in the UK without extended family had a profound effect. I had briefly become the victim of sexual abuse and being unable to talk to anyone about this together with the rapid disintegration of our family relationships, by my mid-teens I had begun to contemplate suicide. It seemed everyone in my family hated each other. My parents and siblings seemed indifferent to what I was going through. I became introspective, had deep feelings of rejection and isolation, and I became more and more distant from them. I had also failed vital school exams at the age of 18yrs which further reinforced the rejection and depression.
One day, for some unknown reason at that time, I decided to go back to my primary school to find out if my former music teacher, Mrs D, was still working there. She had shown some particular interest in me when I was 10 years old after I told her that I had started having piano lessons. Playing the piano in my parents’ front room became my escape from daily stress, brawls, and screaming matches between my older siblings and my parents. It was my safe place where I could shut the door and hide myself away. No one in my family had ever shown much interest in listening to me play the piano or sing although my mother did give me an old Victorian piano which had been destined for the rubbish dump! They were aware of my strong musical gifting but I don’t recall receiving any verbal affirmation in that respect from my family during my childhood. I was tolerated and often felt that I was a burden as I got older. On my visit to the primary school, I was told that my music teacher had left the school, and now had 2 children. My headmistress gave me her address and so I wrote a letter to her explaining what I was doing now, that I had left grammar school without any A levels, felt that I had no prospects, had no idea what kind of job I could get, and that I didn’t have any friends now that we had moved to a different area far from where we had gone to school.
A few days after writing to Mrs D, I was amazed to receive a response from her. She wrote about how well she had remembered me, her new family life, and about my search for truth. Her letter ended with these words: “Vasantha, if there is one thing I can pass on to you, it’s the opportunity to seek Jesus.” I had no idea she was a Christian! These were words which surprised me. In my subsequent letters over the following months, I shared what I understood about various religions but all Mrs D ever wrote back to me was about my SIN and how Jesus was the only person who could solve my problems.
Approximately a year later, I still had no peace, was lonely, depressed, and confused so I asked if I could meet Mrs D at her home. I did not tell my parents where I was going as I had little reason to; I just wanted to get away from everyone. At the end of my day with her family, I asked if she had anything I could read. She ran upstairs and brought down her husband’s bible on the front of which was a passage from 1 Corinthians Chapter 13: “…and the greatest of these is love.” I went home with the bible hidden in my bag and later read the whole passage and the Gospel of John, as Mrs D had encouraged me. I was struck by the peace which she exuded. In our long conversation that day, on each occasion when I shared my religious beliefs she simply replied: “I just believe on the Lord Jesus Christ”. I wondered how she could have such assurance in someone I had only ever sung hymns about in school assemblies. The simplicity of her response to my statements challenged me.
My days were long and lonely during that summer when I had failed my A levels in Biology and Chemistry a second time. Feeling disillusioned and finding myself alone in my parents’ new house, I felt the urge to pray. I said “God, if you are with me, tell me who you are”. I sensed a voice say to me very clearly: “My name is Jesus Christ”. I immediately felt a huge burden lift off me and I was flooded with peace. I went into my bedroom and knelt beside my bed and I asked Jesus into my heart to be my Saviour even though I had never been told that this was an important first step into salvation. I just knew it was the right thing to do.
At this point, my life began to change in very subtle ways. I felt prompted to ask my father if I could study music at college. He had bought me a new piano, much to my surprise, after I gained distinctions in all my singing exams. I practised the piano for hours in the hope of being able to apply to as many music colleges that I could find, as far away from where my parents lived so I could escape the daily stress. I never imagined that I would suddenly be accepted to study music at all the colleges I had applied to. I left my parents’ home that summer and went to Chichester, W Sussex, and began attending a local Anglican Church during my first year at college, however, I felt a deep hunger for something more than I was receiving there. My challenges were to continue as I started attending in a very small Pentecostal Free Church led by an ex- missionary. The next year would be extremely difficult as I had no point of reference as far as churches were concerned. I had an old King James Bible which was difficult to understand, and as a result I struggled to grasp the scriptures. I felt as lonely in that church as I had before I had become a Christian, however, I found being involved in the music ministry and doing evangelism on the streets seemed to give me a sense of purpose. The climax came when I was told that if I wanted to serve God, I would have to give up everything including my career and college and so I did! I had no idea that I would be causing my parent’s much pain and concern over my decision as I never told them. They found out I had left college after receiving a phone-call from the Head of Music who told them he was sorry I had left!
The next 7 years would be traumatic and lonely but somehow I felt that God’s presence was constantly urging me to seek Him. I had no friendships of any depth in the church amongst the tiny congregation of about a dozen people, until the pastor died suddenly at the age of 56yrs. At that point several families joined the church, after leaving the local Baptist church. A gentleman who had two daughters in particular (B and G) , who were about my age, became my first ‘real’ friends. They introduced me to their circle of Christian friends mainly from YWAM (Youth With A Mission) and this was to have a huge impact on me.
In time I had the opportunity to receive counselling at a Christian healing ministry in the UK. It was to be a traumatic journey with my facing literal death for the third time in my life as God dug deep into my past hurts, fears, and brokenness but He brought me through as He promised and He restored me. Generational issues which had never been dealt with in any of the churches I attended caused much trauma to the point where I felt I was being terrorised by the enemy, mentally. The lack of pastoral care over the years had affected me very deeply, however, the healing ministry set me on the path to restoration.
My journey through long-term physical and mental illness gave me compassion for those who suffer in these areas. I later trained in healing ministry and have discovered that as much of our healing simply comes through having authentic/genuine relationships with others in the Body of Christ and experiencing the reality of family in the church, as it does from applying God’s word. I was taken to an Asian church as a young Christian but the memories of racism as a 10-year-old left me feeling deeply distressed. I could not speak or understand the languages being spoken, and I felt I could not relate to anyone as I felt more British than anything else and I couldn’t relate to them culturally. In fact, I could not bear to be around Asians at all. Some years later, one pastor actually told me to: “Go and speak to those visitors…they are YOUR people”…I ran as fast as I could in the opposite direction, as I couldn’t bear the thought of having to communicate with them!
A few years ago I found out from my mother that her father was a Brahmin priest although she never knew him and had kept this a secret throughout her life. I wondered if that was where my deep sense of God’s call on my life came from, even though he was not a Christian. I felt I was ‘called’ to serve God in ministry but was invariably treated with cynicism because of my background. In time I learned that we are called to serve where-ever we are ie: through our work, vocation, ministry, etc. My life has been challenging but through it all God has been faithful, never leaving or abandoning me. He saved my father on his deathbed, and has restored family relationships which had barely existed for years. I have been privileged to lead numerous students to Christ though my work as a music coach, as a GCSE tutor, and in other settings over the years, God has shown Himself to me as a loving Heavenly Father who seeks the one in order to bring in the many.
Thank you Vasantha for having the courage to share your heart!