FAITH HEALING

SHORT STORY – FAITH HEALING I was reading something really interesting in Dyal Sing library, when a soft, warm hand was gently placed on my right arm. I turned my face and saw a broad, beaming smile. Who is this beauty with an Anglo Indian look? Lizzy, I cried out after some reflection. Thank God, me lord has recognised me after such a long time! That is her way. She is always funny in her talk. We both studied at Mayo college in Bombay, though she was two years junior.She had many friends, boys and girls, as she was lavish in spending her pocket money in ice ceam parlour or God knows where else. I was a recluse and woud have never met her. Somehow, she had a fancy for me and faced me with her irresistible smile, when I was thinking about some way out of the financial crisis facing me. What if I tell her? I took a chance. Madam, could you kindly help me? Oh! Sweetie! You are always so formal. Every body calls me Lizzy. My father is a railway loco engine driver who does not know how much he is getting every month. I am his only child and we have none else in my family. Tell me how much you need? We went to the ATM AND SHE GAVE ME DOUBLE THE AMOUNT I MENTIONED. Therafter, we became real friends. She used to come in my lodge often, sometimes staying till late in the night, but never said or did anything indecent, though they used to say a lot of things about her. That was ten years ago. She had not changed much. A little more sober in her looks, perhaps. If anything, she has improved in looks. The truculent looks in her eyes has gone. She has matured. We went out and talked for a long time. Her father is now concerned about her not marrying. Let me enjoy life for some more days, she would protest. What about you?, she enquired. I could not say there was nobody to sponsor my case. Seeing my reluctance, she asked about my family, of which we had never talked. I said: There are some twenty members in our house; they live in the major cities of the country, including some abroad. But who cares for me? Had any one taken some interest, I need not have borrowed from you. My parents died when I was a child. There after, we met frequently. My friends became curious. She is a bitch, shouted Kumaran: do you know how many people have enjoyed her? Give a bottle to her father and you can sleep with the daughter. At least think of your status. You have to go a long way up in your career. You have to entertain friends and people from your office. What will happen, when they come to know that you have married a slut? He went on shouting. I kept quiet. Of course I didn’t like to marry her, did not even love her. Or, did I? Then it happened. At first, it was only one finger nail root. A small itch. I showed a doctor who gave me some ointment. There was no relief; on the other hand it spread to other fingers, causing pain. Then Lizzy took me to different specialists, but none had an answer. Ulcers developed, emitting horrible smell. I was confined to my room. Kumaran did not come, but Lizzy came every day, cleaned my fingers and sat praying in front of her Jesus, whose photo she brought from her home. Days became weeks and months, but Lizzy went on nursing me and her prayers continued for my recovery. I STARTED LOVING HER. Then, she told me there was some improvement. Just your imagination, I told her. After some time, I too felt it. When we showed a doctor, he was surprised, because there was no cure for this ailment. After several months, I resumed duty. We decided to marry before Chrismus.