From India to Israel: Emuna Lehungdim's Inspiring Journey

If you see her pushing a stroller in Kiryat Arba, she'll seem like any other woman from the community. Emuna Lehungdim, with her warm smile and kind eyes, fits in well with the local scenery. But behind the calm exterior lies a turbulent life story, a fascinating journey from distant India to the heart of Kiryat Arba. It's her childhood, marked by loss and separation, that shaped her into an extraordinary woman.

It's not easy to find free time in Emuna's busy schedule. Mornings find her working as a secretary at an ulpana, and in the afternoons she cares for her six young children at home. She's also an active volunteer in the community. Yet, when we sit down to talk, time seems to stand still. Emuna invites us to join her on a fascinating life journey—from faraway India to today's Kiryat Arba.

Relatives, Boarding School, and Tears

Emuna was born to parents with Jewish roots in northeastern India. "My father was a great tzadik, a man of great kindness," she recalls. "Unfortunately, I didn’t know him because he passed away when I was three years old. For the year following his death, my mother tried to raise me alone, but she lacked the strength and returned to her parents’ home. There’s a law in India that if a woman returns to her family, she can’t take her children with her, and they remain in the custody of the husband’s family. That’s what happened to me. This led me to grow up in the homes of my uncles and aunts, moving from house to house, constantly feeling like I didn’t belong anywhere."

As a child, did you know you were Jewish?

"Yes, my aunts, who were also Jewish, told me about it. They’d explain, 'We believe in Hashem.' But practically, it had no significance in their lives. We knew nothing of Torah or mitzvot—not the Shema, not the holidays, not Shabbat. Nothing at all. The only thing I knew was that there was a God in heaven, and He is our Father."

Emuna also knew something else—that one day she would move to the land of the Jews—Israel. "This was my father's will," she explains. "He passed away after a long illness, and on the last Shabbat of his life, he gathered all his sisters and asked them, 'Promise me my daughter will come to the land of Israel. Do everything to make it happen.' They tried to reassure him, 'You'll recover, and we'll all move together.' But my father insisted, 'I need a promise.' They promised, and moments later, he passed away. My aunts always told me how important it was to him, and he wouldn't allow himself to leave this world without receiving that promise."

But carrying out the promise was no simple task. "For years my aunts looked for ways to bring me to Israel, but they couldn’t," Emuna explains. "Meanwhile, I drifted between relatives, moving every few months to another house, learning different daily patterns each time. One minute I'd get used to waking up at seven and eating certain foods, and suddenly I'd be in a new place with completely different habits. I sought belonging but didn't find it. My aunts saw I was unhappy and searched for a boarding school for me. Without any Jewish options, I ended up in a Christian boarding school."

Emuna's memories of the boarding school are harsh: "I remember the headmaster respectfully discussing 'that man.' At the end of each prayer, the children would say: 'That man will bless us,' but I insisted on saying: 'Hashem will bless us.' As a result, I faced severe punishments—30 lashes with a stick, standing outside in the rain, or running around the school 20 times. I bore the punishments silently, feeling, 'No matter what you do, you won't defeat my faith.'"

It was during those days Emuna first learned to pray to God earnestly. "Each evening, I would stand at the window, gaze at the sky, and cry to the Creator: 'Hashem, help me get out of here. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be a Christian! I believe in You!'"

When Emuna was fifteen, her uncles finally managed to bring her to Israel. "This became possible because they managed to register me as the adopted child of an aunt who had moved to Israel herself, finally realizing my dream and my father’s. That’s how I arrived in Israel."

Emuna wants to express her deep gratitude to her aunts: "They were like both parents to me and did everything for me. Before the flight, they bought me clothes, food, and everything I needed. They were amazing and truly loved me."

Thanks to Rabbi Ovadia

On her way to Israel, Emuna knew nothing about the country. "I knew tales of the 'land flowing with milk and honey' and thought honey and milk awaited me on the streets," she says. "After landing, they told me, 'Today, we're going to the Western Wall,' and I recall asking, 'What’s that?' We set out by bus, and upon reaching Binyanei Ha’uma, we waited at the station, and I innocently asked everyone, 'When will we get to Jerusalem?' People looked at me in bewilderment: 'You're already in Jerusalem, what do you mean?' I couldn’t accept it. How could Jerusalem look like a regular city when in my imagination, angels should be flying around?"

At that time, Emuna and her family were informed they’d have to undergo a giyur l'chumra, a more stringent conversion process, requiring study and preparation. "I was required to learn quickly and fill in a significant knowledge gap," she explains. "But it was amazing. Suddenly, a whole world of Judaism opened up to me—I began learning what the Birkat Hamazon was, what the holiday blessings were, what Shabbat was. I acquired terms, and it was incredible. I finally understood the magic that is Judaism, something I longed for so many years without even realizing what it was."

Emuna’s challenges didn’t end when she arrived in the country. "It was hard to adjust to the language, the people, the lifestyle, and even the food," she says. "I recall riding the bus one day, seeing people mourning the passing of a great rabbi named 'Rabbi Ovadia.' I had never heard of him before, but I found myself praying and asking him, 'Help me progress and draw closer.'"

Emuna is certain that Rabbi Ovadia worked wonders for her in heaven because from that moment on, great progress began. She enrolled at the ulpana in Meron, where she joined a unique class for new immigrants, alongside 11 other girls acquiring the language. After a few months, she was tested, and seeing her proficiency, they moved her to a class with native Israelis. "In no time, I found friends and connected with them. I also learned to manage the Israeli mentality which initially bewildered me. In India, we always sat still and listened to the teachers; when the teacher entered the class, silence reigned. I was horrified by the noise and chaos in Israeli classes but eventually came to enjoy it and connect with it. I wore long skirts that swept the floor, and I was happy."

Strengthening and Moving Forward

Four years after starting her studies at the ulpana, Emuna got married. "My husband is also originally from India, with a large family there," she shares. "We married in Israel and decided to live in Kiryat Arba. Shortly after, our first daughter was born—Hadia—and she awakened in me all the feelings and childhood memories I had missed. It was the first time I understood that from a very young age, I missed having parents who would hug and raise me, and it hurt."

What about your mother? Did she remain in India?

"My mother stayed in India, and for years I barely had contact with her. Then, one day, we were guests at my husband’s cousin’s house, and during dinner, the topic of honoring parents came up. The cousin spoke about respecting parents, even if they are drunk or not mentally sound, simply because they are your parents. Suddenly, I realized how I had acted towards my mother over the years. I thought, 'Put yourself in your mother's shoes and your daughter Hadia in yours. How would you feel if she cut you off?' Only then did I grasp the difficult situation my mother was in and felt a strong need to see her and apologize. But the problem was, how would I get in touch after all these silent years?

"Meanwhile, our family expanded—we had a son, and then another. At the time, I worked in cleaning, and when I shared my desire to reconnect with my mother with my employer, she said, 'Your story has touched me deeply. I had a similar situation; I never saw my mother before she passed, and I regretted it every day. I want to buy you a plane ticket so your mother in heaven may forgive me for my mistakes.' I was stunned because it was such a big expense. But she insisted and even convinced my husband, who initially struggled with the idea of staying home with our three little ones. Eventually, he understood the importance and strongly supported the trip.

"Two weeks later, I boarded the plane to India. This time, I had many places to stay because besides my uncles, who still reside there, my husband's uncles lived in India, too, along with his grandparents. One day, I told my mom, 'We’re going out for a day of fun and shopping.' So we spent a whole day together—my mom and I. Then came Shabbat, and in the presence of the candles, I felt it was the right time to open my heart. I asked my mom, 'Do you know why I came here?' She replied, 'Because you want to travel and have a good time.' Then, with great courage, I ventured to say, 'I came here to apologize. I'm so sorry and realize I haven't behaved as you would expect. I hope you understand and forgive me.'

"My mom's response was, 'I understand and appreciate you so much because it’s clear to me it’s not easy for you to ask forgiveness. Thank you for doing this.' It was then that she told me about her severe illness, and when we parted, we hugged and cried because we knew it might be our last meeting."

Years have passed since, during which Emuna considered going back to India several times, but a busy life and large family didn't allow it. Then COVID-19 hit and skies closed. "I found myself continually grateful for my decision to visit my mom and not postponing it," she shares emotionally.

One day, family members contacted her, informing her that her mother's health had deteriorated. She needed to be hospitalized for treatment, but to do so, she had to receive a COVID vaccine. The vaccine, in her condition, was probably hazardous. On Friday, twenty minutes before Shabbat, Emuna received a frantic call from India informing her: "Your mom has passed away."

"I was in the middle of Shabbat preparations, bathing the kids, and let out the biggest scream of my life," Emuna recounts. "I couldn't understand—it was mind-blowing. How is it possible that just after asking for forgiveness and starting to build a good relationship, this happened? Only after sitting shiva and starting to get back to routine did I realize that from heaven I was granted the opportunity to apologize to my mother, for which I'm immensely grateful."

Even today, as she serves as a secretary at the ulpana, Emuna often finds herself listening to students' stories and dilemmas, offering advice from her experience. "Not everyone's journey takes them from India to Israel," she says, "but each of us has our own trials. When you believe in the Creator and trust that He chooses the best path for you, it becomes easier to navigate the journey, using challenges to strengthen and move forward."