The next morning, I received a call from a fellow therapist, Naveen—a batch junior who had completed his training only a few months before in December 2018. I told him about my conversation with Kiran, whom he also knew, and mentioned that I was trying to reach Venu for an urgent appointment. Naveen asked why I didn’t want to take the case myself. When I explained the gravity of the illness, he gently told me that this was an opportunity to heal, and perhaps I was being guided to it. I expressed my concern that I wasn’t fluent enough in the local language, Kannada, (one of the languages widely spoken in South India) which Veena spoke. Naveen reassured me that I would manage well, and that he would join me during the session in case I needed help. His confidence steadied me. With that assurance, I called and told Kiran I would try—and, if needed, connect them to Venu later.
On the appointed day, Kiran arrived with Veena and her parents. Veena's mother worked as a maid; her father drove an auto rickshaw. They walked into the room carrying the air of people who had been battling life for far too long—worried, exhausted, clinging to hope. Veena wore a soft woollen cap over her shaven head, and the traces of chemotherapy were visible in her fragile frame. Naveen and I felt our hearts sink; the sight of such a young child enduring such suffering made our eyes swell with emotion.
As we settled, Veena’s father opened a worn bag and took out a stack of medical files—her reports. I gently asked him to put them away, explaining that I was not a doctor and wouldn’t understand them. His face fell with disappointment. Naveen and I slowly guided the family through the basics of past life regression therapy. When they asked if Veena would be cured, we offered them cautious hope—we had seen healing happen before, and there was no reason to lose faith. After gaining their consent, we enquired about Veena’s early years, how the illness had begun, and we explained the therapy process to them and the child.
At the mention of starting the session, little Veena burst into tears. We tried to comfort her, but she clung to her fear. Her father, patient and gentle, asked if he could take her outside for a few minutes. He returned with her shortly after—she held a small candy in her hand and seemed a little calmer.
To help Veena and her parents feel more at ease, Naveen and I decided to offer a brief demonstration of the process. Naveen volunteered to play the client while I guided him through progressive relaxation. I conducted the entire demo in Kannada, the local language, so Veena could understand. When we finished, Naveen smiled and told me I had done well—that I should lead the session myself.
We reassured Veena that her mother would remain beside her throughout, that nothing would harm her. After some hesitation, she finally agreed.
As the session began and her body relaxed, Veena visualized a soft, round orange light.
What follows is a summary of the session. “T” refers to the therapist, and “V” to Veena.
T: Go back to a happy moment in your life
V: 9 years with appa/ amma (Father / Mother)
T: Go back few more years, what is coming to your awareness?
V: Am with appa and amma – going to Bangarpet (a town close to Bengaluru in
Karnataka)
T: How are you feeling?
V: Am happy.
T: What are you wearing?
V: Wearing green dress…they are carrying me.
T: Now go back to the source of the medical problem. What is coming to your awareness?
V: I am girl.
T: How old are you?
V: 8 years.
T: What is your name?
V: Veena (It was the present life).
T: What are you doing?
V: I am with appa. (And then she could not visualize
anything).
After long pause, T: Go to a happy moment. See what you are wearing.
V: Wearing leg chain.
T: Where are you?
V: In Badrinath – Bangarpet.
T: What are you doing?
V: Playing ball. I am 9 years.
T: When did this medical problem occur?
V: It was holidays, am 9 years. Boinhalli (was some village name). Ajji (grandmother) gave something to eat. I
started vomiting.
Naveen and I understood that she was only recalling the onset of the illness in her current life, unable to reach deeper. Soon she began feeling uncomfortable, so we paused the session.
Veena went out to the park, played for a while, and her parents got her something to eat. When she returned, she seemed refreshed and ready to try again.
We resumed, hoping she would reach the root of her suffering.
T: What is the cause of the tumor?
V: I fell down, blood clot.
T: What is your name?
V: Name is Veena.
T: Where did this happen?
V: Happened in Boivanhalli.
(This was the reason her parents had mentioned to her for
the surgery she underwent. We thought that she is just telling this from her
memory).
After guiding her into deeper relaxation:
T: Go to a happy moment.
V: I have put Om Shakti mālē.
(A sacred ritual practiced in parts of South India.)
T: How old are you?
V: Six.
(She seemed to be regressing.)
T: Where are you?
V: In a bus… with appa, amma, and tamma.
Despite repeated, gentle attempts, Veena could not reach the root cause. Instead, she began crying softly in trance, saying she didn’t want to go there. We decided not to push further.
I then asked her to float above and simply observe.
“What do you see?” I asked.
“Bright light,” she whispered.
I asked her to look around.
“There is a sage,” she said, “wearing a red dress.”
I asked her to ask the sage what had happened to her.
V: Blood clot.
T: Ask him how to heal it.
V: Beat it and throw it out.
T: Can you do that?
V: Yes.
I gently encouraged her to begin. After some moments, her voice softened.
“Yes,” she said. “I threw it out.”
The sage was gone, but she said the bright light remained. I asked her to seek forgiveness from the light—for known and unknown mistakes—and to request healing for the tumour and any lingering traces of illness. After a pause, I guided her to ask for blessings: good health, long life, happiness, education, and prosperity.
Slowly, I brought Veena out of the trance.
Her parents anxiously asked what we thought of the session. We told them that healing does not always require a past-life experience; sometimes release comes from letting go of the emotions one carries. Perhaps Veena had released something through the act of “beating and throwing out” the clot. They thanked us earnestly, and as they left, we saw something on their faces that had been missing when they arrived—hope.
A week later, when I called Kiran, he told me Veena was nearly done with her chemotherapy. Then, in mid-October, he called again with astonishing news: Veena had responded remarkably well. The doctors found no trace of the disease. They told her parents to forget this ordeal as a terrible dream and focus on giving her a normal life. Kiran added that doctors usually never declare cancer “cured”—only “in remission.” But in Veena’s case, the doctor said plainly: there was no trace of the disease.
When I shared the news with Naveen, we felt overwhelming relief and gratitude. We thanked the divine force that had healed her.
Whether it was medical science or PLR therapy that cured her is open to debate. But in my heart, I believe it was faith that made the difference.
There are many stories shared by individuals who believe their experiences with cancer were profoundly shaped by long-held emotions and inner turmoil. One such story is that of Anita Moorjani, a cancer survivor from Singapore whose journey has inspired readers around the world. After slipping into a coma for 30 hours—after her organs having failed —she experienced what she describes as a transformative, near-death awakening. Against all medical expectations, she recovered, and the cancer that once filled her body receded at a pace which cannot be explained medically.
Anita recounts this extraordinary experience in her book Dying to Be Me, an intimate and deeply moving journey that offers a sense of hope and emotional solace to many navigating the challenges of cancer, reminding readers of the powerful connection between mind, body, and spirit.
Faith is powerful. It is no exaggeration when people say that faith can move mountains.
And another thought stayed with me as I remembered the energy healer’s words—that there was “no hope.” No human being is God. No one has the right to extinguish another’s hope. Our duty is to help, to comfort, and to keep faith alive—leaving the rest to God.
Today it is nearly 6 years since Naveen and I did the session, and I learn from my good friend Kiran, that Veena is now a healthy, beautiful teenager living a normal life.
A message that I had read came to my mind, "As you free your body from the chains of the past and liberate this energy, you have available energy to do the uncommon—to achieve the supernatural."
Please feel free to post your comments and questions, and I will try my best to answer them, with my limited knowledge. Your comments motivate and encourage me to share more experiences with you. The comments you post may appear after a day or two, as I have set up a spam check. Thank you.
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