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Before I narrate my story, I want to prove that exorcism is neither a figment of human imagination, nor it has resulted from ignorance, superstition, or wrong beliefs.
Exorcism is the process of evicting Satan, demons or evil spirits from a human body or a place. Hindu Veda describe the exorcism as was performed 4000 years before the birth of Christ. Christ, Mohammed, and other prophets performed exorcism. In the modern times Pope Paul II implemented three exorcisms. When Mother Teresa was dying, she requested the Archbishop of Calcutta, Sebstian D’Souza, to exorcise her, since the devils were blocking her path to Heaven. He authorized a priest who performed the ritual, and Mother Teresa died in peace in 1997. The Catholic religion has ordained and trained priests to do the exorcism, and they have specific guidelines and procedures. There are 600 Protestant ministers who practice exorcism in America. In short, Christians, Muslims, Hindu, Buddhists, Jains, Sikhs..., all practice exorcism and follow the procedures laid in their Holy Books or canons.
The fact of life is that people do get possessed by a curse, their sins, entering haunted places, contacting a possessed person, or through witches’ potions. However, there had been a few cases where a person had a mental problem and the foolish exorcist lashed him to death. To avoid this, the Catholic religion wants the priest to consult a doctor and psychiatrist before performing the ritual. All good exorcists verify the mental and physical condition of their patient.
In 1947, I was working as an engineer in the Public Works Department, Punjab, India. One day, my cousin, Darshan, came to visit me. We were classmates for thirteen years. He dropped from college and disappeared. I was surprised to see him after six years.
“Bir, you had been my best friend and confidant.”
“Buddy, you vanished without telling me anything,” I said. “All right, why did you quit college?”
“I met a Sadhu and became his disciple. We roamed around, earned big money, and spent that on wine and women. Last year he passed away. I didn’t like the nomadic life. So I came to Amritsar and opened a grocery store.”
“I’m glad you have joined the family; your parents were devastated.”
“Bir, after spending nine years in college and standing first in the university, how much are you making?”
“Four hundred rupees per month.”
“I offer you ten times that.”
“What am I supposed to do?” I asked. “I know nothing about groceries and those stores hardly earn 200 rupees per month.”
“You’ll do nothing with a store, but become a partner in my other business.”
“What’s that?”
“Handling evil spirits.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Let me explain. There are two types of persons who deal with the evil spirits. People, like us, cast in the evil spirits, and the exorcists cast them out. Both are doing a thriving business.”
“How can you throw in an evil spirit?”
“I learned it from the Sadhu. I’ve captured a few evil spirits. People pay me 5000 rupees to murder, subdue, or make imbecile their enemies. I give them a packet of the ashes of my enslaved spirit. They feed it to their enemies and my spirit does the job for them.”
“Postmortem can easily reveal your crime.”
He chuckled. “Impossible! No instrument can trace the spirit.”
“Look, I don’t believe in the existence of the life after death and don’t buy the fancy tales of your imagination,” I said. “Moreover, it is wrong to harm innocent persons.”
“Okay, I won’t discuss it further. My offer to you, however, still stands. Money, wine, and women will kiss your feet, and you’ll enjoy life, instead of toiling on a dumb desk.”
“My answer to you is firm NO. Capital N and capital O. Period!”
We hugged and parted as friends.
Two months later, my father’s younger brother, Darshan’s father came to me.
“Darshan is in the city hospital and wants to see you,” he said.
“What happened?”
“While picking mangoes, he fell from the tree and was badly injured.”
“Sorry to hear that; I’ll go there today.”
I drove my jeep to the city hospital and located Darshan in private room number seven, in ward ten. His face and arms were bandaged, and there were welts all over his face.
“Darshan, how are you feeling?”
“Terrible,” he moaned.
“Why did you climb that tall tree?” I questioned. “You have many servants to do that.”
“I love mangoes,” he asserted with a wink.
The nurse left the room, and we were alone.
“Bir, I never fell from a tree.”
“What happened?”
“A ghost thrashed me. I’ve not confided my secret to anyone. If I tell this to the doctors, they will lock me in a mental asylum.”
“How did this happen?”
“Do you know Banta, the robber?”
“Yes, he robbed many banks, murdered many men, raped hundreds of women, and was shot by the police.”
“I was trying to capture his spirit. He, however, turned out to be too strong for me. He’s in my body and will kill me in a few days.”
“Sad to hear that, but I don’t believe your concoction.”
“Bir, I’m not fibbing and badly need your help.”
“How can I help?”
“I’ll be released after three days at ten. Come here and take me to the saint at Bias and get me exorcised.”
“I don’t believe in exorcism.”
“I beg you and will pay five thousand rupees,” he pleaded with tears running down his cheeks.
“All right, I’ll be here to pick you up, but will not accept a passa (penny) from you.”
I still thought Darshan had a mental problem, since there are no spirits. I went to the library and withdrew books on exorcism and life after death. I enjoyed reading: “Raymond,” the book by Sir Oliver Lodge, the world famous scientist, known as the father of radio. He did scientific research over the spirit of his son who was killed in World War I. Then I read another book by Sir Arthur Canon Doyle, the author of Sherlock Holmes. He had given details of his contact with the spirit of his son who was killed in France in the same war. Now I thought it was quite possible there were spirits, and Darshan might be telling the truth.
Darshan hobbled out of the hospital, and I drove him to the ashram of a Sikh saint. This ashram had a huge free kitchen and a large treatment center for exorcism.
We joined the line to meet the saint. When our turn came, we stood with folded hands before an old man with flowing white beard and matching turban.
“Children, what’s your problem?” the saint asked.
“Babajee (respected old man), an evil spirit has captured my body, and I beg you to exorcise it,” Darshan replied.
“Let me test you first,” the saint said. Then he gave me one bottle and continued, “Fill this with water from the hand-pump and bring it to me.”
I dashed, pumped water, and brought the bottle full of water.
The saint inserted his little finger in the bottle, recited Scriptures, and gave the bottle to Darshan.
“Child, have a sip.”
As soon as Darshan took a swig, he tore up his clothes, and his head started spinning like a Buddhist prayer wheel. The saint called the volunteers who grabbed Darshan. “Take him to the treatment hall.”
When Darshan was dragged out, the saint told me, “Your friend is possessed by Banta’s spirit. It will take me a few days to exorcise it.”
“We’ll stay and get the treatment.”
Darshan recovered after one hour, and we secured a place in the building to stay for four days.
Next day, I took Darshan to the treatment hall. I saw a two- year-old boy speaking in English with a perfect British accent. I asked the lady volunteer near him, and she told me, “The boy can’t say a word of Punjabi, he is possessed by the spirit of a British lady.”
Darshan and I sat cross-legged at the spot allotted to us. The saint arrived, Darshan took a sip from the bottle and changed. The saint hit Darshan’s bare back with a stick. There was a loud thud, and I noticed the bleeding lacerations, but Darshan didn’t flinch a muscle.
“Banta, I order you in name of Guru Nanak to leave this man,” the saint shouted.
The spirit in Darshan, who had a different voice yelled, “This bastard attacked me, and I’m going to kill him.”
“Now he’s under God’s protection, and you can’t harm him.”
“All right, I’ll leave after three more sessions.”
The saint left to treat another patient, and Darshan wriggled on the floor. The session ended after one hour.
Two more sessions passed. On the forth day the spirit agreed to leave.
“Banta, try to pray to God to end your misery and grant you another human body. I want you to give us the proof that you have left this young man.”
“What proof?”
“There is a flowerpot on the ledge of the window facing us, lift it and bring it near my feet.”
“All right, I’ll do that.”
Darshan burped and a blast came out of his mouth and shot toward the window. I saw the flowerpot rising in the air, moving inside, and resting at the saint’s feet. I was stunned.
Darshan was all smiles and touched saint’s feet.
“Child, the spirit is gone. Promise not to delve with them and daily spend one hour in reading our Scriptures.”
“I give you my solemn word,” Darshan said.
Darshan donated huge amount to the free kitchen. We returned to Darshan’s place. He sold the store and entered college. He did his M.A. and became a teacher.
