Miracles of Faith

An atmosphere of chaos; puny figures sleeping over strewn coins; damp air reeking of urine; hawkers; welcomed me to another journey by Indian railways. After seven hours of bangs and bounces, I landed in a land that can best be described as bizarre.
Brown mountains with no vegetation, ruined structures singing the glories of the past, small Italian and Israeli cafes tucked inside narrow Kannadiga style streets, tourists in the balconies of rented rooms or on bicycles; Hampi is anything but the town you’d expect knowing its reputation of a town of ruins.
In one of the narrow gullies, I found a shop full of souvenirs laid out in the front veranda. My eyes caught Charan Singh, the shopkeeper, sitting on a cushion, by the wall. My curiosity about one of the items in his shop got us into an interesting conversation. He asked his wife to get us tea.
As we sipped the hot tea, Charan slowly unveiled his unwavering faith in God to me. Just then, his son came running to sit on his lap. The greatest living proof of God’s existence, he said, as he affectionately fondled his son’s hair, was his son, born to his wife after eight years of their marriage. ‘The best doctors of India had given up. Even the attempts for a test tube baby failed. I asked my wife to give me a month to connect with god with all the faith I have for Him.’ And Tenzin, now four years old, was conceived within this one month. ‘All you need is 100% belief in him, he says, even 99% won’t work.’
I realized now that Hampi was not just a town of temples carved out of solid rocks it was a town of faith. I looked back at the difficult times in my life too, to find that there has always been someone that helped me come out safe. I wondered, as I took the last sip from the glass, how closed I have kept myself from the possibilities, wonders and miracles, although they are all around us. Tenzin practiced a punch on Charan while he sat there, quietly smiling at his little miracle.