The Power of Faith

 

Many decades back, it was a scrub forest in the countryside surrounding my village. The distances were still measured by creaking cartwheels even though rolling tyres had made their presence felt. A sanyasi meditated in a little cave dug into an earthen mound overlooking a little pool of water in the scrub forest. As he meditated, a wolf and a cobra stayed nearby. He achieved enlightenment. Now we have the holy pond surrounded by a tiny grove of banyan, peepal and neem trees.

The place carries its mystique and solitariness, where one can still feel the aromatic wafts of the holy man’s spirituality. There is an elemental sound of faith reverberating through the gusts of breeze playing with the leaves. Silence and peace is unperturbed as the moments pass in tuneful glides with harmony. Birds have a melodious regaling among the trees. A family of green pigeons safely coos in the banyan canopy. There is a group of fourteen geese that own the pond waters and they assert their rights pretty noisily now and then.

The holy man used to bathe in the tiny pond. Faith is feisty, disarming and daring. Our own self is its mighty nurturer. The waters in the little pond heal skin allergies. Many people have been cured and the myth stays with the little mossy pool.

In the little shrine commemorating the holy man, a priest draws healing powers from the holy man’s legacy. He acts as a faith healer and his simple process of chanting mantras and blessings—drawing sustenance from the holy man’s spiritual energies—cures people of typhoid. Many people authenticate the efficacy of this faith-healing treatment. Long lasting are the effects of meditations.

The place has all that it takes for the seekers of silence and peace. The offerings at the little temple sustain birds and a few dogs on the premises. The seeds of penance leave behind a crop that serves humanity, and some animals and birds also, for a long time.