I’ve seen death mocking me before. But this time it was too close. It came to claim my beloved father.
There had been warning signs throughout the day. Like the dream I had in the morning, in which my father’s doctor was instructing me to make telephone calls to our relatives, as the end was near. I woke up startled, sweating and scared. I looked around, dad was lying on his hospital bed, few feet away from the sofa, where I had been resting. He looked fragile, loveable and still handsome. He was admitted to one of the best cardiac hospitals in Mumbai two days ago.
It has almost been three months since I flew down from Hong Kong. We were treading treacherous ground. I had seen our family doctor’s face, trying to hide his tears from us. He is especially fond of my father. And he didn’t need to say anything to me. I had seen the reports. We were holding on to his life by a thin silken thread woven with love.
I believe in healing miracles. But that morning, hope seemed to be dissolving in ether. I have always had a sharp intuition about things. And that day all the faith, placed in the miraculous healing power of God, was deserting me. I felt helpless and fearful.
Suddenly, something transformed within me. I decided not to be scared. I am not merely a daughter, I thought. I am a spiritual healer attuned to divine will. Even death can’t take the one protected by Supreme Will.
I put prayer beads around my father’s neck, and instructed him to chant a mantra to ward off negativity. “I am by your side, never be scared”. I asked my mother and cousin brother to go home and rest.
But then the unthinkable happened.
After midnight, my father woke me up complaining of cold and numbness in his left and right arms. His head was hurting too. Nurses or night doctors on call were not to be found. My father started sinking, going through a cardiac arrest, emitting strange sounds, his heart and body collapsing in front of me, in a reputed cardiac hospital, with no emergency care or doctors in sight.
That moment, surrendering him to the ‘SUPREME’ with folded hands, I invoked all the healing guides, angels, ascended beings, Mahakala and the Buddha. “Protect him! Save him!” I screamed, “Papa, I am here with you. Let no one take you away. I am here to protect you.” I wasn’t sure if he was listening but I continued screaming as loudly as I could. My screams alerted the emergency staff. The ICU team of senior doctors finally rushed to our deluxe ward. They asked me to leave, even as they tried to revive his heart. I refused to leave, still doing the healings and prayers silently.
I made a final pledge, “If it is not yet his time to go, if YOU save him, if YOU allow him to live, I will share the wisdom and message of spiritual healing with as many people as possible. If he can’t be saved, I am not your worthy child, and let this gift be buried too.”
Living out my morning dream, I made telephone calls to my family.
Soon a doctor stepped out. “He is responding and asking for you”. I couldn’t believe it. “Yes! Come in and say hello.” There he was, fragile still, eyes open and watering, looking for me. I walked in and stood by his side. He held my hand, spoke in a faint voice through his oxygen mask, “I am fine.” Unable to say anything, I held his hand tightly.
Still in tears though I kept praying, “God show me your will clearly. What is your true desire?”
As I walked out of the ICU, a man wearing a yellow T-shirt passed me by. On his T-shirt were inscribed four letters in bold — L.I.F.E.