The Witch of Forest Grove

When I was a young line cook in Toronto working in a busy restaurant on Bloor Street we had a Tamil dishwasher from Sri Lanka who was quite a character.  A slight bony young man with sparkling black eyes full of mischief he was always asking all the pretty girls to marry him and come home to Sri Lanka with him to meet his mother. I loved it when he and the other Tamil dishwashers and cooks would come to work after going to temple in the morning their foreheads adorned with white smudges of blessing and blissful smiles on their faces. This fellow would make sure all the cooks and servers had “tea time” every day – he’d hand you a glass of tea whether you wanted it or not! He’d also make sure we all sat while drinking it which in hind sight was very considerate of him as cooks and servers have a habit of never taking breaks, never sitting down and resting. The only time you would get to leave the kitchen was if you were a smoker!

The most interesting thing about this young man was that he was a traditional healer taught by his parents. The practice is called Siddha medicine and is linked to Ayurveda and Unani but is older than both – many claiming it is the oldest existing system of medicine supposedly taught to the Siddhars by the gods Shiva and Parvathi.  He would heal with the laying on of hands, a practice found in folk belief and shamanism worldwide. I had heard of his healing powers from other cooks – he could stop blood, ease pain, heal sprains and torn muscles – so when I had very painful carpal tunnel in my wrist from flipping the fryer baskets every day I asked him to help me. Normally a clown, his face took on a mask of seriousness. He considered for a moment, nodded and told me to meet him outside the back of the restaurant. I went out and we sat in a parking lot on a cement wall. He removed his socks and shoes and motioned for me to do the same. Normally chatty, he didn’t speak to me at all once he started his process.  He took my hand and wrist in his and chanted over it in Tamil with a low humming monotonous voice, then he proceeded to rub my forearm from the elbow down to the ends of my fingers with both of his hands while humming, he did this about three times, said a word and then looked at me and nodded again. “It’s finished,” he said “it will be a day until you notice”.  I treated it gingerly for the rest of the day, and honestly the next day it was like I’d never had the carpal tunnel. I went from crying in pain to back to completely normal. I started bringing him tea.