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by jaya Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Book · Educational · #2110197
A chain of vignettes.
#905651 added February 28, 2017 at 3:39am
Restrictions: None
F-28 Words-775
three days. My nostrils still tickle with the sensational and pungent smell of the herbs and the essential oil. The oil extract was then bottled and tightly capped. It was fun to watch my grandpa dig a 2x2 feet square pit in the backyard, in which dozens of bottles of oil were buried under clean black soil, with their tops exposed to sunlight.
After thirty days, grandpa and I used to go to the pit and dig the bottles out. We carried them home carefully. There were special chambers reserved for grandpa’s professional purposes. One room was to store the oil and the extra raw ingredients. The other was used as a consulting cum physiotherapic purposes. He used to arrange the bottles neatly in the shelves lining the walls. It used feel like an air-conditioned room, cool and pleasant. Now the oil was ready for therapeutic use.

It is still a matter of wonder for some that how my two elder brothers didn’t show inclination for the career of an oil therapist, and how the talent and technique of oil therapy was present only in my genes. It seemed like I was the chosen one. I do not mean to sound proud or egoistic. I feel that each one of us has something special present in them and blessed is the one, who gets a chance to tap that special talent and use it for good. I am grateful to God for making me an oil therapist instead of being employed otherwise. The kind of satisfaction I get when one of my patients recover from paralysis or spondilitis was a great reward per se.
Enough of my philosophizing of life and let me continue with my rant.

As a teenager my interest in my grandfather’s profession started taking root. I remember the day, on which an old woman in the neighborhood came home complaining to my mother of stiffness in her right hand. I just returned from school and I overheard the dialog between my mom and the visitor. Immediately, I threw aside my school bag and went into the hall and looked at the old lady. Her tears and moaning moved my tender feelings. I went in and brought some oil, whether it was sesame or sunflower oil I didn’t notice. I asked her to come in, and lie on the wooden cot in the veranda. Then I put some oil on the affected hand and started massaging it right from hand up to shoulder in a fluid movement. It was fun doing the rhythmic motion. This massage lasted for fifteen minutes.

My father, who had just come in saw what I was doing and went in without commenting. He called my mother and sent a small bottle of the oil that my grandpa used during therapy. I applied a few drops of this oil on the patient’s hand and started the rhythmic movement with the tips of my fingers. I made her relax a while and then let her leave for home.

On the next day, she came home with a wide smile on her face.

“Thank you, Jagan. I feel good and the pain has decreased. You did an excellent job. May your grandfather bless you to cure as many people as you can,” she said sincerely.
I smiled politely at the elderly lady. She was my first patient whom I have treated successfully. I continued to treat her for another ten days by the end of which she was completely cured.””

Ashley stopped her narration at this juncture and said, “alright Jim darling, I will continue with the story when we find time again. But for now, it is advisable to pause it a bit. It is high time I left and you, to your office.”
The story she was recounting was so absorbing that I didn’t notice time and rushed to my work place.

Two days later, I got a call from uncle John. He said, “hey Jim, listen to me carefully. Tomorrow we have an appointment with the private detective that Rod has engaged to investigate our case. Will you be free tomorrow?”

“Yes, uncle Jon, I can make time for you in between the working hours. I can ask my boss, permission for an hour and a bit,” I responded enthusiastically. Uncle John’s case was something I wanted to see resolved before my wedding.
I continued, “just give me the address where I can join you.” I noted down the address on a piece of paper and put it in my wallet. After exchanging some more news I called off.

I slept a little late, and couldn’t rise
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