Mathews Jacob
26-May-2009
My years serving in the Indian Air Force were perhaps the most peaceful and joyful period of my life. This happiness was largely due to the sheer diversity of the men I served with. We were a microcosm of India, mingling across different states, cultures, and religions. Nobody ever questioned another's faith; in that uniform, religion simply didn't matter.
This beautiful harmony was shattered on my very first day as an expatriate worker in a foreign country. I immediately realized that here, religion was a tool for systemic discrimination.
A Salary Based on Faith, Not Skill
To my shock, religion and nationality were the primary criteria for determining a worker’s salary, far outweighing the nature, quality, or volume of their work. A person belonging to the dominant religion and nationality would receive almost double the pay of someone from a less-privileged faith or nation, regardless of their skill level.
Life outside of work was equally rigid. During prayer times, the entire public sphere came to a standstill. Everyone was expected to participate, and no one was allowed to move in the streets. Clerics patrolled with whips in hand, and those of us from other faiths would either seek shelter in hidden spots or keep driving aimlessly, knowing that even resting in a stopped car could attract their dangerous attention. The safest way to avoid scrutiny was to sit in front of a continuously playing VHS tape dedicated to propagating the state religion.
Success and the Growing Threat
Despite the oppressive environment, I dedicated 17 years to an airport maintenance company, which was among the country's top ten at the time. I was instrumental in the company achieving ISO accreditation and implementing significant reforms. My success led to a coveted promotion and multiple salary hikes. However, despite my elevated position, my pay always remained significantly lower than my counterparts, solely because of my religion and nationality.
My professional ascent simultaneously magnified my personal danger. The number of enemies I made—particularly from nationals of a neighboring country, often in conspiracy with locals—began to increase sharply. I was continuously watched and literally chased. My nights became sleepless, plagued by the fear that they would plant drugs or similar contraband in my apartment, perhaps in collusion with the landlord. The penalty for such an offense in that country was, horrifyingly, beheading.
The Question That Offered Salvation
The question, "Why don't you convert?" had been a daily refrain. Eventually, survival eclipsed everything else. I started questioning myself: Why not? If embracing a religion I don't truly believe in could save my life, what difference would it make? After all, I had long believed I didn't care for any religion.
One day, an elderly man posed the question, and I finally replied, "Yes." The change was instantaneous and dramatic. From that moment, I was treated like a VIP. My days were fearless, and my blood pressure, which had been dangerously high, dropped back to normal without medicine. I began attending preparatory classes. The authorities collected my bank details, promising a massive sum of money to be deposited on the day of my official induction into the new religion.
The Labourer Who Lit a Lamp
Then came the turning point. A Malayali friend, a simple labourer with no high education or social standing, visited me one weekend, just a week before the scheduled conversion. We spoke at length, and he, in his simple wisdom, showed me the true reality awaiting me at home.
"The money will be in your account," he acknowledged. "But the very next day, the Malayalam newspapers will carry the news. People who looked up to you will now see you as a man who sold his faith for money."
He continued, describing the airport reception by local religious leaders, the 'hero's welcome,' and the pressure that would immediately follow. They would enforce mandatory attendance at the local place of worship. Soon after, the pressure would shift to my wife and children to convert, creating irreparable turmoil in my family. The liberal promotions would come, but I would forever be seen as an individual who lacks respect, eventually being pressured into becoming a religious fundamentalist.
That labourer, my friend, lit a lamp in my clustered consciousness. I could suddenly envision the endless misery that would follow the foolish, life-saving step I was about to take. The following day, I knew what I had to do: I decided to say "No."
The Great Escape
When the car arrived to take me to the preparatory class, I simply told the driver I wasn't going. The driver's superior called me, and I informed him clearly: I was pulling back. The news spread quickly.
The next evening, my boss, a Jordanian, called me into his office. He congratulated me on my brave decision, then delivered a chilling warning: reliable sources indicated that my enemies were now planning to trap me on a charge of blasphemy, a crime that would keep me from seeing sunlight for a very long time.
He put an emergency plan into action. He instructed me to arrange an email from India the next morning: "Wife serious, come immediately." He arranged for a local national to secure an "Exit/Re-Entry" visa through the emergency window, financed my air ticket from his own pocket, and waved off my suggestion to wait for my salary. "Life is more important than money," he insisted.
The next day, with the fake email and an approved emergency leave application, my boss personally ensured my passport was released. The operation was executed with absolute stealth. I pretended to be going to my usual workplace but waited in my apartment. At noon, the PRO/driver delivered my ticket and passport and dropped me at the airport just one hour before my flight to Kochi.
It was the greatest escape of my life, executed perfectly in a totally stealth manner.
A Miraculous Phone Call
I lost approximately ₹10 lakh in salary and service benefits, not to mention the money I could have fetched for my belongings like Airconditioner, Refrigerator, Kitchen Equipment, Furniture etc. The biggest loss was my cherished 17-year library of books. But I have never regretted the loss. After all, I got my life back.
But the biggest miracle had happened just as I was making the u-turn from the scheduled conversion on the day my friend visited my apartment. I was 54, and the thought of resigning without a job was terrifying. Minutes after my friend left, my mobile rang. It was an unknown number from India. The caller introduced himself as Easwar Rao from the HR Department of the new Bangalore International Airport, then under construction. The CEO of Siemens had referred me as a perfect fit for a Maintenance Manager- Systems role.
I was dumbfounded. The name Easwar (God) rang in my ears. I accepted the subsequent call from the Vice President, and though I mentioned my age, they were ready to take me on as a Consultant. My decision was now buttressed by a confirmed job at an Indian airport.
Those were the years and moments I truly felt God’s protection. I didn't worship loudly or pray intensely, but I submitted myself completely. Everything, even my life, I left under the control of the Divine Power. The path I traveled was always God's choice, not mine.
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