Seeing as the last post was about kids, I remember this post from my old blog. Seemed appropriate.
An Extraordinary Miracle
I would like to recount an extraordinary story I heard from someone. On hearing this story for the first time, any doubts I harboured about the existence of the Great Divine, a. k. a. God, dissolved instantaneously. It was years ago, when I was very young. I have often heard this story repeated, and each time it send a thrill up my spine. Without further ado, the story goes somewhat like this:
It starts off, like all good stories, with a young couple. This couple was highly successful in their respective careers, although remarkably short-sighted about the future. There was no thought given to tomorrow whatsoever. Most Indian couples (I forgot to mention they were Indian), think about progeny at some point of time. These two, perhaps being the exception that proves the rule, didn’t. Children, as a concept, firstly, were lovable, secondly, belonged to other people, and thirdly, will happen at some distant point in the future. And hence, after six years of wedlock, it still hadn’t struck them.
They were based in Dubai, hailing originally from Mumbai. A love marriage had resulted, as a consequence of working together in the same work environment, and constant bickering. But that is another story altogether.
The lady in question, has a sister; a twin as a matter of fact. At that time, she was unmarried, and in Mumbai. She desperately wanted her sister to have a child. So, one fine day, she trotted off to Shirdi, to the hallowed precincts of Sai Baba. There she made a plea bargain, of sorts: ‘God, please grant my sister a child; I will visit this temple five times.’
During this and the subsequent five trips, her sister in Dubai remained blissfully unaware.
It was on the occasion of the fifth and final promised trip, standing in the queue to approach the Samadhi, the twin prayed: ‘If you are going to fulfill my wish, Lord, I want the rose from your head, as a token.’
Now, as an aside, if you have ever been to Shirdi, you know that the crowds are enormous, and, in general, chaos reigns supreme. Standing in the darshan queue is a feat that requires around five hours of patience and, to make matters worse, the queue is serpentine, coiling its way through the building, spilling into the temple premises and sometimes even onto the road.
On reaching the beautiful marble statue and Samadhi, she bowed her head in obeisance, and turned to make her way outside the temple. She was hailed by the priest, who, in front of her unbelieving eyes, grabbed the rose of Baba’s head, placed it in her outstretched hands, and said in Marathi: ‘You asked Baba for this rose? Baba has granted your wish.’
She reached Mumbai the same evening and, at the crack of dawn the next morning, her bemused sister calls up from Dubai to say, she was pregnant.
Quite incredible, isn’t it? When I first heard this story, I was spellbound and speechless. But nevertheless, I believed it without a moment’s hesitation. Why? Because the couple in question are my parents, the twin is my dear aunt, and that is how I was born.
Note: This was an article I had written for my college magazine. I really loved this one, on so many levels: I was really happy about how it turned out, it’s a subject dear to my heart, it reflects a portion of my existence and it was the first time I really believed I could write well.
My mother told me her version of the story as well. That was considerably less divine, and, in keeping with my parents’ general style, considerably more hilarious.
After an evening out at Copper Chimney in Dubai, my mother started throwing up. When she went to work a few days later, she found that her stomach upset [spoiler alert: me] hadn’t gone away. So she went to the hotel doc.
The doc asked her what she think had happened and her symptoms. He checked her, and then asked: “Mrs. Daya, could you be pregnant?”
My mother, being a complete naive nitwit, laughed, and said no. Quite emphatically. So he asked again: “Do you mind if we do a test to check?”
Of course not, suit yourself was the response. Um yeah. She was pregnant. The evidence is typing this post right now.
PS: My name translates to the title. First name: Miracle. Surname: Beautiful. Humour that’s right on the nose.