As I reflect on happenings of late, I happen to recollect an incident of old. It happened years ago, may be in the early nineties.
Dad had let out some rooms of our home to single women, most of them from Kerala. They had come to our small city to make their living. The rooms were tiny, shared by three, sometimes four. They would find small jobs in nearby industrial areas. They would soon wind their way around the city on their own, having picked up the local language with ease.
One evening, a young dame made her way back home. Short and slightly stout, she was fair. She got off her bus. It was getting dark. Her lodging, our home, was just a ten minute walk inside through a narrow gully.
Suddenly the lights went off. Drat! Load shedding again, she grumbled. She quickened her steps hurriedly. Suddenly, she felt hands grab her. They pulled her with intensity inside. She guessed it must be the workshop, she crossed almost everyday on her way to work.
The hands clamped her around her neck. Absolutely terrified, she didn't know what to do. It was pitch dark everywhere. Nobody knew she was here. At that moment, a name crossed her mind. The name Mom would often speak to her about. She would then nod her head more out of respect for Mom.
Mom always tried to help out these poor women, materially and also with spiritual counsel. That name flashed suddenly before her. "Jesus." She yelled with such terrifying intensity, that the man, absolutely stunned, loosened his grip at once.
Finding her chance, she ran and ran as fast as her stodgy frame could allow. Her captor strangely didn't make any move to pursue after her.
Breathless and panting, she related the incident to the others, who couldn't believe her story. How could she escape, that too so easily? "It's Him," she pointed upwards. "He did it. I'd only heard about Him. Today I experienced Him."
Years have passed since that night. She has moved from our home. We're not in touch with her anymore. But I'm sure, she'll never forget that miraculous experience. Ever.
