A 35 year
old woman came for past life regression to know why her husband committed
suicide. She felt completely lost and helpless in his absence. They were in
love since she was thirteen years of age and their’s was love at first sight. She
started visiting his home at the age of 16 to take care of his mother who was
suffering from cancer. She married at the age of 20 years. This year they
incurred heavy loss in business. On his birthday, at 7 pm, her husband handed
over his watch to their 10 year old son and left home. She thought he left to
bring something for his birthday celebration. When he didn’t return, she lodged
missing person complaint with the police at 9:15 PM and at 3 AM he was found
semiconscious. He had poisoned himself. She met him in the hospital for the
last time. He held her hand till he breathed his last. When he loved me so much
how could he do such thing?
SESSION……
It is a
small village of clay huts in the midst of sand dunes & no vegetation located
somewhere in the state of Rajasthan of early 19th century. I am a
girl of 13 years with long hair wearing yellow Ghagra and silver ear rings. We
have 1 cow and 2 goats. A boy of 16 years lives two houses away from our home.
He always looks at me. He is my present life husband. It is night and a few men
carrying swords raid our village. All are crying. They kill my parents. They take
away cow and goats. I am crying. Now an old man from the village is taking care
of me. I call him Baba. He sleeps outside the hut. Now I talk to the boy sometimes.
I am still in my teens. The Baba is very sick. People come and meet him. Now he
is also dead and all of a sudden I am left all alone. I am very sad. Now the
boy looks at me from afar but does not talk to me because I live alone. Villagers
say I am an unlucky girl. Now no-body talks to me & no-body cares for me in
the village. It is early morning I cut my wrist and commit suicide. Villagers
cremate me. All except the boy have left. He is crying. In light master light told
her husband had this much time only.
