Miracle Man

Miracle Man

July 2011

By Shivi Verma

A woman’s tribute to the transforming power of marital love, true spirituality and cow’s urine that helped her defeat the demon of clinical depression

I was a depressed girl – clinically depressed. Doctors said someone in my family with this gene had transferred it to me, but there was no example in my family tree of anyone who had suffered from it. I had not always been like this. I had a happy home, doting parents, loving sister, good education, good looks and lots of friends. I looked forward to a bright future and was sure that I would make my mark.

All this changed when I joined college. I made a friend who introduced me to religion and spirituality. She said that she could perform impossible tasks by drawing on God’s immeasurable bounty. “All one has to do is to sit and close one’s eyes and concentrate on God.” Excited, I began to emulate her. However, my naivety did not let me see that my friend was not a balanced person.

She had a troubled relationship with her parents and siblings. My friend, however, maintained that it was her family that distanced itself from her. Meanwhile, my spiritual efforts began to yield fruit. I felt an increasing proximity to God and an ocean of love welled in my heart. Unfortunately, my guru (my maladjusted friend) was not the right one. Soon, I began to see miracles where there were none, and distanced myself from my career goals, my parents, and friends. When my spiritual honeymoon ended, I sank into gloom and became extremely melancholic.

No matter how ardently I would close my eyes and invoke God, the old divine magic no longer worked. Falling into the pit My old upbeat self evaporated. I was diagnosed with depression. My parents sought medical advice. Some doctors said I would have to take medicines all my life or there was no hope for me. The medicines made me drowsy and dull, and I suffered so much that I would often refuse to have any. My uncle, my paternal aunt’s husband, who had a family history of depression, suffered from the same condition. He had plunged into this abyss after his first child was declared thalassaemic. My worried father had asked one of his brothers-in-law, Dr Ramakant, who was a surgeon and the superintendent of Safdarjung Hospital in New Delhi, “How does one get out of depression? What is the ultimate cure?” Dr. Ramakant grimaced and after some thought, replied, “Death is the only and final cure for a man in this condition.” Firm resolve The doctor’s words came to pass. My cousin, the daughter my uncle loved so much, had an untimely death. My uncle, unable to cope, ended his own life by consuming poison. Suicide had often seduced me as well, but I feared what people would say. ‘She had nothing to complain, they would say, and yet she chose death over life.’ I pledged to fight back. I wanted to lead a healthy and successful life. God loved me but he could not do anything unless I decided to take the reins of my own life in my hands. I began to cooperate with my doctors, took up yoga and pranayam and began socialising. I even became a preacher at a spiritual help centre but I was far from cured. I still had my bouts of depression. I missed the joy I had experienced during my ‘divine dalliance’.

When I got engaged to Ravindra, a dashing 35-year-old investment banker, I was in two minds about telling him about my problem. Eventually, I mustered the courage to share it with him. Ravindra was visibly shaken but he did not even as much as hint that he wanted to break the engagement. Instead, he began talking about people who battled handicaps like mine and emerged victorious. He was fired with a crusader’s zeal. He browsed the internet, he read books that discussed my condition and shared stories of those who had fought depression successfully. He refused to accept that my condition was the price I was paying for my desire for union with God. “Utter rubbish,” he would say, “I love Krishna. I was all alone and with no money when I came to Mumbai. I faced difficulties, but so firm was my faith in His love for me that it only made me stronger.

I achieved success, gained true friends and continue to confidently turn to Him when I am faced with obstacles. God’s love is strength, it can never be a weakness. God is the source of infinite happiness. If you are experiencing pain and misery then you are probably in the wrong. Your path is incorrect, and your knowledge crooked.” Love’s tests After marriage, unlike other newlyweds, we never had a honeymoon. How could we, when Ravindra was devoting time cleansing my mind of ‘spiritual waste’. He would quote the Bhagavad Gita: “Krishna param bramha, sachhidananda vigraha, anadair adi Govinda, sarva kaaran kaaranam,” he would repeat. “Look at Vaikunth Das (a devotee of Lord Krishna), he lives for God, but he is always excited, happy and full of vigour and energy. He lives in a one-room house with his wife and two daughters yet organises a feast for one lakh people every year out of sheer love for Krishna. There were nights when I would stir out of sleep to find my husband staring at the ceiling fan. I knew his dream of enjoying a blissful married life with a pretty partner was in shambles, and I felt guilty. “I know of people who have been cured of depression permanently,” he declared one day. “They did not rely on traditional medicines, though. They took gomutra (cow’s urine). Would you drink it?” I nodded gingerly. He opened a website related to benefits of cow urine and showed it to me. I was amazed to discover the therapeutic properties of cow urine. It can treat a host of conditions ranging from skin diseases to depression and bipolar disorder.

The very next day, my husband purchased a bottle of distilled cow urine and brought it home. Then he poured two teaspoons of it in a glass of water and gave it to me. The moment I took a tentative sip, I began to convulse like I was being deprived of oxygen. The taste was horrible! Ravindra was terrified. He worried that the urine would incapacitate or kill me. “It is unfair of me to ask you to drink something so bitter on your own. I will do it with you,” he said, as he poured himself a glass of diluted cow urine and drank it in one go. He was absolutely fine! “It is drinkable. Don’t worry, I will help you,” he said. From then on, we always drank the urine together, and I overcame my dislike for it. In two months, the results began to show. Earlier, even a slight emotional trauma was enough to push me into depression. Now, I could weep or feel unhappy like everyone else, without falling into the dreaded pit. The urine also took care of other problems like obesity, eczema and weakness. For the first time in a decade, I was off medicinal support! Gratitude I had never understood why Hindus gave so much importance to the cow. I finally understood. Today, every morning, I pay my respects to the cow, my mother, by feeding her. I realise that I can never repay her debt. In my husband, I have found my answers. He is my friend, philosopher and guru, perhaps even beyond that. I am no longer disturbed. Marriage has helped me understand my duties, given me clarity of thought and purpose and helped me play my role on the stage of life by keeping God at its centre. It has taken a lot of effort, but it beats groping endlessly in the dark and sinking in a pit inhabited by self-created monsters. Today, I am trying to establish myself as a writer, goaded and coaxed by my goal-oriented husband. I think there is a novel in me that is waiting to come out. My relationship with my husband too has changed. We now live, communicate, fight, share laughter and jokes like any other couple and slowly I am able to see in his eyes the joy that comes from acting faithfully and believing firmly in God and his miracles.

For him, I am proof of His miracles. For me, he is a living miracle.