I have this bag, which I call a magic box. Whenever I put my hand into it, I feel that it would have just enough of what I want. Over the years, its charm has waned and now I use it as a cloth clip holder. Every time I go to our terrace to hang the clothes out to dry, irrespective of whether I have a load of clothes or just a few, my magic box would have exactly the number of clips I would require. This is no joke and I can vouch for it. Sad enough, a friend to whom I bragged about it, said it is just that I am managing to use the clips as per the cloth load and it has nothing to do with the bag. By now, most people who know me have classified me as a dreamer with extraordinary imagination. I did not want to push it further and let the matter rest, until the other day.
The other day I was rushing from office to the bus terminus, from where I would catch the bus to my hometown. If traffic in this part of world has to be defined in a word, “Madness” is what I would call it. The game called mad rush of traffic vs. my utter desperation to reach bus terminus lasted for three long hours and at the end of it, I missed my bus. Tears almost choked my throat as I found my way through the maze of people, buses, and peddlers towards the bus agent’s office. It took a long time to convince him to arrange an alternate transport and he asked us to pay a penalty amount of Rs. 1500. Forever attached to plastic money, I flashed my multi-hued cards in front of him, but he denied totally. The new bus was about to leave and there was no time to find an ATM to answer his “Cash only “demand. I opened my wallet and searched, knowing very well that I don’t usually carry more than a few hundreds in cash. What an amazement it was when I saw that I had exactly Rs. 1500 with me and not a penny more. Earlier that morning, our cook had handed over Rs.1000 for getting some goodies for her granddaughter from my hometown and it was there in my wallet, along with a handful of currency notes, which amounted exactly to the bus fare.
With a sigh of relief, I sunk down in the bus seat and smiled wistfully looking at my empty wallet. A moment before, I had relived the charm of the magic box and will always call it a miracle. I know that most people would brush this off with arguments on probability, chance, coincidence etc. It is not that I am irrational, but it’s really a great feeling to believe that someone is watching over you. There is a lot more to these miracles and my magic box, than a flight of imagination. It is a belief that stems from deep inside my heart reminding me at times that I am not alone in this crusade of life, and perhaps my mind’s way of coping up with situations. It makes me feel alive and spirited, giving me more reasons to believe
Like Muhammad Ali said,
“It’s the repetition of affirmations that leads to belief. And once that belief becomes a deep conviction, things begin to happen”
And, as long as I believe, I know for sure that the magic will recur in my life, time and again.