He's a struggling writer. He aims to write only what he's experienced in his life.
Believe in one God. Why believe in many gods or deities.
Right Living - Dr. YB Malla Shretha
Story of Faith Healing
A true story of a young man who makes his living as a tailor master.
I had wished in my first meeting itself, he should get healed. If he agreed to start his journey to healing of his own. So, I gave him the direction to the sacred site beside the airpot.
Related to his problem, I had shared with him my story of being witness to a possessed person three decades ago in my first meeting.
In those days it was a fact hunting for the healers for cure.. Now it has become a fiction.
This article relates to my encounter with the young man and my story way back to three decades ago.
Sunday 3, January 2021
It was a grey evening. I strolled to Hussain’s Tailor shop in the narrow lane running behind the Boudha stupa.
We hardly greeted to each other, Dhana Kumar popped in and stood between Hussain and me.
Hussain was ironing a monk's robe.
I looked at Dhana and threw him a question, “ "Has the time arrived for you to walk walk up to the place?” with the thought that I could take him there."
“No.” Dhana replied with a gloomy face.
I added, “ I don’t promise you that you’ll get healed once you get there. It’s up to you, you got to struggle to get healed yourself."
He orated with a muddled head,
"I know no one can cure me. Two months ago, I went to a Jhakri, a witch doctor. I told my malady.
After listening to me, he lit his incenses, put his beads on and beating his drum, he spelt chats to invoke power from the unseen world.
Within seconds, he entered into trance with the rhythm of the drum.
I followed shuddering after him.
After a while; he stopped after some spells and told me that he couldn’t remove the spirits from my body.
I pleaded him. I’d pay any amount of money.
This has happened to me from the last Dasai. When I get into trance, I see gods and goddesses surround me and I get what I want around my house!
I had a pathetic life. My dad died when I was two. My mom brought me up so far. She also died two years ago. After her no one is there for me.
I’ve bought a house in Ramhiti. That’s the only my property.
My wife pushes me to sell it. She thinks, if I sell that house I maybe be cured. If I listen to her, and sell that house, I know I’ll be nowhere.
My biggest struggle these days: if any woman having monthly cycle touches me , I get into a fist of convulsion. During the periods no woman must come near me.
I abhor meat, eggs and alcohol. I get abominable smell from them.
For Hussain, this was a mad man’s story. His hand was still ironing the cloth.
As from my side, I never meant to push him. I just wanted to help him how much I could.
Mind and World
Mind is World. To elaborate: when we sleep, mind is not present, hence we do not see the world. Again when we are awake we take our mind from everything; then the world is forgotten. Where does this world go?
Right Right Living -Dr.YB Malla aShrestha.
My Story as a Witness to Faith Healing
I had met him in Hussian's shop for the first time last Monday.
The moment I stepped in, "Are there gods and goddesses?" Hussain asked me.
"There are gods and goddesses. But humans are powerful than them." I replied jokingly.
"This fellow says he sees gods and goddesses." pointing at his friend standing nearby.
I told my story of three decades ago. Hussain's friend listened. But Hussain was busy cutting the pieces of clothes.
Three Decades past
"I entered the sitting room to greet the relatives that Spring evening. I had hardly sat down after my days work in Bag Bazaar. Just returned.
To my surprise, I saw Rojal was brandishing khukuri like a slow motion film around the windows as if to slice some unseen enemy.
Next, I turned my head to the right to the bed. I saw his elder sister was lying flat on the lap of another woman.
She was spurting and slobbering saliva every seconds. Her eyes were closed and I could hear mumbling only.
The woman behind supported her with a pale face and blank eyes. She had no words to tell me what had happened. No words either came out from three other onlooker lads. Except the dim bulb above a dumb witness.
I stepped forward, and felt her brow with my palm. It was hot like a cup of tea.
Then I looked at my wrist watch. The two needles pointed 7.35pm, a dark night outside.
I didn’t utter a word, instead, I got out of the house and rushed to through the narrow lane leading to the main road in front of the PM’s residence.
I found a cab on the wayside waiting for the customer.
Without asking the driver, I opened the door on the left and took the seat and told him to take me to a hospital.
He turned around and drove through the lane within minutes and reached the gate.
I walked out and entered the room, and requested the woman to lift the sick up and take her to the cab.
Wasting no time, the patient was hauled in the back seat with her.
I sat in the front with the driver.
We two, the helper woman and I had anxiety in our heart, but not the driver.
He steered his cab past Rastra Bank, then he steered left through the lane going to Visal Nagar.
As the cab bumped through the lane, it reached Visal Nagar cross road. Then it slid down the road to Bhatleko Pul, the broken bridge. It crossed the bridge and took a climb road up.
I asked the driver to stop for a moment near Ganesh Sthan Temple.
I then stepped out, and knocked at the iron gate.
In seconds, Tom, the American volunteer doctor appeared. I told him I had a patient
After listening to my problem, he advised me to take her to the Patan Hospital. That would be the best place for a solution.
Thanking him, I wasted no time. I told the driver where to go.
The cab turned right and again left for Chabahil cross road. It seemed the minutes turned into seconds.
The cab reached the cross road. Turning right, it dashed to Gaushala, then turned left to the airport. As if time was flying.
I saw the street lamps showing the deserted wayside along the Ring Road.
My body was in seated inside cozy cab, but my mind had already flown to the hospital.
As my thoughts were thus bubbling in my head, my mind went blank, only to know that the cab had passed through the hospital gate.
Then the driver pushed his feet for a final brake right below the board that read, “Emergency”
I got out of the seat and opened the door behind for helping the sick out of the cab.
I thought she needed to be lifted up.
To my surprise, she got out of the seat herself and she trotted to the emergency room. Her friend followed her.
I followed them and told the doctor about her ailments.
Then the doctor told her to lie down on the bed.
Next, he fixed his stethoscope in his ears, set up a Sphygmomanometer for measuring her blood pressure.
He ask the sick to open her mouth, then he pushed a thermometer i below the tongue.
After the check up, the doctor said everything was normal.
I asked the doctor what I should I do further.
He advised me to take her home.
As she also heard from him, she got up from the bed and stood up for a while.
Then she walked back herself to the cab. We followed her.
Getting into the cab, I asked the driver to take us through Jawalakhel.
As the cab arrived beside St. Xavier’s, I requested the driver to stop for a moment beside the church gate
I then stepped out and walked up to the church gate. I raised my neck above the gate.
I saw lights were off inside the ground floor. The upper floor was the church.
I climbed the wall, and stretched my legs to the grill circling the upper floor. Then I leaped to the floor. I found the church door locked.
Luckily, saw a stand holding the holy water on a bowl. I also found an empty bottle beside the stand.
I picked up the bottle and uncorked its cork, and immersed it in the holy water. As it got nearly full, I lifted it out and corked back.
Sensing, nobody slept there, I stretched my leg to the wall below, and jumped to the ground.
Then I got into the cab for the drive back home.
The taxi dropped us beside the gate of our flat. The sick walked by herself to her room with her buddy.
And I slipped into into my room. I checked my watch. It said 12.47am.
I was about to lie down on my bed, I heard an hooting yell from the women's room.
I rushed to their room. I found her again back as before.
I had no other alternatives. I went to my room, picked the bottle filled with the holy water and back to her room.
I sprinkled some water on her face and her body. She returned to normal form. She slowly fell asleep.
I waited and watched her for a while if it would relapse. She’d outburst momentarily.
In return to subdue her, I’d sprinkle water again. Then gradually, as the night was shying away for the day light, she got into fell asleep.
She got up late that morning. I asked her about the last night.
She said she knew nothing!
Unfortunately, the episode of entering bad spirit in her body prolonged even after shiftinf to another house in Visal Nagar."
“ Your faith can heal you, Not your fear and money.” as I had told her three decades ago.
This content is accurate and true to the best of the author’s knowledge and is not meant to substitute for formal and individualized advice from a qualified professional.
© 2021 gyanendra mocktan
gyanendra mocktan (author) from Kathmandu,Nepal on January 11, 2021:
Can Faith heal? That's your question, Bill? I have the same question for long long time.
As years passed, I've asked knoweldgable practitioners, Dr. YB Malla Shrestha who has compiled 7 books on spirituality, he said me once if "you don't have faith in yourself, how can you have faith in God?"
Regarding money, I belong to a society in which people in general think money can do anything and everything.
But Once Swami Chindresh who had lived on the top of the hill for 22 years told me that money is like water cycle. Vapour rises up and becomes cloud, falls back as rain again. It goes on. So does money cycle goes on. Only at times it gets stuck in somebody's pocket for a long time somewhere.
gyanendra mocktan (author) from Kathmandu,Nepal on January 10, 2021:
Thank you for stopping by. I felt so much for him but he had to understand what wanted to convey. Time will heal him. Thank you.
Bill Holland from Olympia, WA on January 10, 2021:
Fascinating story, my friend. Can faith heal? I truly do not know, but I know for a fact money cannot. I loved reading your thoughts about this interesting topic, and learning more about your culture.