Mankind was a force, whose shadow's dread demands made it so that no one knew truly its role in destiny's grand plan. I was no exception, and in my young life, I was forced to confront many hidden, mystic sides of historical and spiritual aspects. My story is unique, and each small anecdote, though it may sound bizarre, is vital to my tale to justify their actions and give reason for their expression. The saintly figure I had the privilege of meeting was virtuous and kind, and in her darkest hours, she was indifferent to scorn and praise, and in my restless curiosity, I tried to record as many episodes from her life in order to celebrate the unique person that she was, and, in these pages, I attempted to recount from my humble memories the miraculous episodes which took place, but I am well aware that any reader would likely find this narration utterly dubious, and I would not wish for anyone to believe in any of the stories within, because had anyone asked me to believe in these strange episode, I would never have believed in it, unless I saw it with my own eyes, and then too, I would have to look twice.
As I embarked on the arduous journey of regurgitating my tale, I do not wish to place a claim upon the reader's trust or sympathy for I do not have the right to demand anyone believe a word of it, nor do I feel that by communicating my sentiments and stories of this saint to the oblivious world would make the heroine of my story any more real or my experience any less lucid.
The tale I am to recount with caution and care, had for long, hijacked my senses and overpowered all peace from my young years. But I wished to narrate this story fully and plainly, hoping to avoid any presentiments of doubt or deceit, for although only truth is presented here, I had resigned myself to the inevitability that my story may be doubted, but no reader shall I ever hold in contempt should they doubt or dismiss my words, for I had been once the greatest sceptic of what I had seen and experienced myself.
I was born in a suburban town in New Jersey during the mid-90s, and moved soon after to New York, when I was only nine, and my family and visited India and Bangladesh during those early years.
A few years prior to the trip abroad, my youngest aunt came to visit us, and throughout her stay in our locale, she spoke vigorously about a young 16-year-old girl, and bantered endlessly about how whatever that young maiden wished for came true, and how every small difficulty around her vanished the moment she glanced at it, and this aunt continued to describe miracles after miracles which took place in the presence of the teenage girl. Her words struck me with awe, and although I was only seven or eight, the stories about those miracles wowed my young heart that had never before heard of such wondrous things.