While writing the Abracadabra titled “Pondering over wars and warmongers of the world!” on June 19, 2025, I remembered my trip to Israel 28 years ago.

In 1997, I went on a Christian Holy pilgrimage to Israel with my Hindu friend late R. Gururaja, a retired Commissioner of Provident Fund (PF), Karnataka, along with a group of Christian pilgrims. It was a two-week pilgrimage. There was peace in the region but infrequent terrorist attacks were taking place.  None in the group was deterred by the terror threat.

Our stay and tours were comfortable, about which I had written in detail in this column on return. However, there was one incident of great concern to our tour-operator and all of us when we found my friend R. Gururaja missing from the group, like a black sheep. After waiting for nearly an hour we got into the bus and left to our next destination, hoping he would find his way to the hotel. Further, he was to board a flight to America where his daughter was. Anyway, we were relieved when we found him in the hotel.

Later I asked him to write to Star of Mysore about his experience as a member of the “Lost Tribe.” Here I am reproducing his article.

After a traumatic experience in Jerusalem, I was on board ELAL, an Israeli plane, bound to New York from Tel Aviv, brooding over a miraculous reunion with my party after a careless separation from it at the Holy sepulchre or the tomb of Jesus.

The jumbo jet carried 800 passengers of whom I was a solitary non-Jew. I was occupying the aisle seat while Ms. Sully Urman had preferred the window and in between sat a sickly woman. Without any formality, I surprised Ms. Sully with a question: “Madam, do you believe in miracles?” She coolly replied: ‘No sir, I believe in destiny.’

And, to illustrate her point, she narrated her story. She had two sons and the first one was a physical wreck. She and her husband had tried all doctors and even quacks to bring back the boy to normalcy in vain. They gave up all hopes and thought the boy would kick the bucket. Then it happened, unnoticingly. The boy began to show improvement slow at first, rapid gradually. All the deformities or infirmities began to vanish and today he has become a handsome young man of 24, perfect in health. Ms. Sully says it is all destiny, he was destined to live!

From another point of view, she says that her second son who was normal from the very beginning has not been able to achieve as much as his elder brother who was given up as a lost cause.

Earlier our group of tourists, all Christians except for two, on a Holy pilgrimage trip to Israel for two weeks, had landed in Tel Aviv, the capital.

From Tel Aviv to Jerusalem is a distance of 37 miles. After dumping our luggage at hotel Shalom Jerusalem, our coach with about 25 visitors, predominantly Indian Christian pilgrims with vows to redeem, barring yours obediently and the Editor of Star of Mysore, made its way to Calvary, or Golgotha in Hebrew meaning the place of the skulls where Jesus was crucified along with two robbers for company. The coach passed through Mt. Scopus and the Mt. Olives. It was at the Olive Park of Gethsemane that Jesus had his Last Supper and it was here that Judas betrayed him to Roman Pilate for a few pieces of silver. Jesus gave bread to his disciples and said ‘Take eat. This is my body’ and shared drink saying “My time is at hand. Drink ye all of it for this is my blood which is shed for many for the redemption of sins.”

Our coach left us at the entrance of the walled city to walk the distance through Via Dolorosa or the way of sorrows, the Church of the Holy sepulchre, the Church of resurrection and Calvary or Golgotha, the place where Jesus was actually crucified and also on the third day where he rose from the grave.

I was lost in thought, forgot the group and blissfully ignorant of where I was going, retraced the steps and looking downwards was slowly trekking almost imagining that all members of my group were either a few yards ahead of me or behind me. But when I landed in the street, I found that I had lost my way, isolated and almost impossible to get to my coach and party in a strange land.

I made my way to the city bus stand and enquired of the driver if he could drop me at the Shalom Jerusalem Hotel. The fellow, however, asked me to get down at the next stop hardly 20 yards from the start telling me the hotel had arrived. I cursed him wholly for his cheating and a street-goer pointed out that Bus No. 20, bus which is on the other side of the road, would take me to my destination. I ran across the road risking accidents but the bus left.

I was exasperated and cried loudly, “Jesus, why did you ask me to come to Jerusalem.  Look at my plight!”

Just then from nowhere a coach came. The insiders shouted: “The fellow is here. Don’t let him alone anytime from now.” They physically lifted me inside and like a very good boy I occupied my seat by the side of the Editor of Star of Mysore!

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