How I Became a Past-life Regression Therapist

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How I Became a Past-life Regression Therapist

Illustration: Shruti Yatam

I

n the year 1999, my father passed away. His last words to me were ominous. “There is too much light in the room,” he said, just before he died.

The next night, when I was lying in bed, I saw him. Not as a physical form, but as a body of light. I could see every illuminated cell of his body. It was like seeing a hologram of the man I had dearly loved. He wore a pearl necklace and a peacock feather on his head. The sight of the peacock feather was surreal, mainly because he was bald. He was spread across the ceiling. Huge, enormous, and lit like the night sky on Diwali. I could hear his voice. “I’m there to guide you from now on,” he said. That’s all. Just once.

As soon as he spoke, he started fading away and the whole room was filled with light. I tried opening my eyes, believing I was in a dream. They were already open. My sleeping husband turned to me and said, “Light off karo.” I had been wide awake for the entire encounter.

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