I am a follower of Nath Panth by birth. I say "By Birth" because my father was a disciple of Nath Ji, a yogi of Nath Panth. Nath Panthi are devotees of Lord Shiva. I grew up amidst an atmosphere of meditation and chanting of mantras.
So many times we would wake up in the middle of the night with our father's deep voice chanting "Om,Om,Om...". Meditation was a way of life for us. It was like, "Feeling nervous before an examination?" OK. Take a deep breath, close your eyes, meditate for a few seconds, and all your nervousness will vanish.
"Can't recall a fact while writing a paper? Close your eyes, recite the Gayatri Mantra and you will remember everything. Scared of the dark? Just say OM-OM-OM three times and all the fear disappears.
So you see it was all a part of our growing up years. Sometimes when a thing is readily available to us, we stop giving it much thought or should I say, ignore it's importance in our lives. This happened to me. As I grew older I stopped meditation and gradually grew away from it.
But neither my father nor our Guru Ji tried to correct my ways and thinking. Maybe they knew that my spiritual roots are very deep, and my calling would come again one day.
This happened also. Every year we go to a place called Kutiya. It is a meditation camp where followers of Nath Ji from all over the globe gather to meditate. I have been going there since my childhood. On one such visit my father fell ill. He had heart troubles and had a terrible angina attack, a very painful condition. Though he was carrying his medicines with him they were of little help.
Kutiya is in a remote area and there was no medical help nearby. I was very worried and upset about my father. I didn't know how to ease his pain. It was past midnight and I couldn't sleep. Every body was asleep except for me and my father who was fitfully trying to rest. In my helpless state I stood outside the door of Kutiya under a mango tree.
I addressed our Nath Ji silently. I asked him to help my father in my mind. To my utter surprise at that precise moment that I sent my silent request, the door of the Kutiya opened and I saw Nath Ji standing there. He came towards me and said "Do not worry. Your father is fine."
I was mystified. How did he know? I had not said a single word out loud. Then how did he know I was standing outside silently requesting help? I pondered this as Nath Ji walked away.
I returned to our room, to check on my father. I had left him in pain and now, sure enough, my father's condition had improved. He was sleeping peacefully.