Srinath Raghavan was surprised to find a story he wrote in to a website some time back resurfaced again. His miracle story strengthens our faith on the Divine.
"Why Worry? All will be well." - Srinath Raghavan
Hi, My name is Srinath and Mumbai is my Karma Bhoomi. Born in Madurai, South India, Mumbai is my home, since the beginning of my 37 year old life. 2011 was a turning point in my life and my family's too. I had just landed up accepting an offer of a Regional Head of a Learning & Development firm; a designation, which had come after much effort and persistence; given to the fact that I had to take the long route of constant failures, so to experience success.
A few months into the role and calamity struck. my Father, a hardcore diabetic, had his first heart attack. It was the night of May 13th 2011, when he complained of acute shortness of breath and pain in the shoulders. Immediately we rushed him to the nearby hospital, in the hope that he will be fine soon. But as fate would have it, he was held back for almost a week, before his condition seriously deteriorated and the doctors gave up all hope. We had gone through many hard things in life, but that was the first time, I felt utterly helpless in my life. I remember him limp and lifeless on the hospital bed, with tubes running all through and over him, as he was kept painfully alive, because of a ventilator. The doctors asked me, as the eldest son in the family of four, to make a decision. The hospital expenses too were hitting the roof and we did not know what to do. And as luck would have it, my then boss, wasn't too happy about my absence and told me to report to work, at least partially.
Deep down in my heart, I was broken and I needed help and guidance from the Divine. In that moment of desperation and hopelessness, the messages from the Divine started. While I was sitting on the porch, shedding silent tears, I saw a man wearing a T-Shirt enter, with the words emblazoned "Why Worry? All will be well." That was the first sign of hope. I immediately left everything and everyone behind and rushed to the abode of my Gurudeva, Baba Nityananda of Ganeshpuri, a small village in the outskirts of the city, which held the mortal remains of the great Siddha. As I landed there, and stood in front of the Murti, words of praise, began to pour from my lips, that too in Marathi, a language I am least conversant in. The priest on duty, seeing me shed copious tears, came and handed to me a small bottle containing the Abhisheka Jala, sanctified water, and told me to administer it to my dad and reassured, "Why worry? All will be well." Those words hit me like a lighting from above, for I had seen it before somewhere. Tears stopped and a strange smile lit my face, as I knew deep within, my dad will be saved. I went back home, with renewed hope in my heart and the rest is history.