A Pinch of Salt

The Spoonful That Healed

(A short story based on a true incident)

 Ravi had become a shadow of his former self. Once cheerful and energetic, he now looked worn out, dragging his feet through the motions of everyday life. The reason? A mysterious and persistent urge to urinate—every thirty to forty minutes. It had started subtly, but within a few months, it had completely taken over his life.

 I watched him suffer from a distance. We had been close friends in college, but as life moved on, geography came between us. Still, we remained in touch. When he called me one evening, his voice trembled with exhaustion. “I’ve been to Delhi, Mumbai, Chennai, Kolkata…you name it. Urologists, neurologists, gastroenterologists, even homeopaths—everyone. They’ve filled me with pills, scanned every inch of my body. I have a bag full of x-rays, MRI films, prescriptions. But no one finds anything wrong.”

 I could feel the helplessness in his voice. “And it’s not just the discomfort,” he said, pausing. “It’s the mental torture. I can’t go on a long drive. I avoid family functions. I wake up six times a night. My sleep is gone. My life is gone.” I sat still for a moment, stunned by how deep his suffering had grown. Finally, I said softly, “I don’t know what I can do, but I will try.”

 That evening, after dinner, I stood silently before the photo of my Supreme Master—Sai Baba. The soft yellow light of the prayer lamp glowed on His face. In His gaze, I had always found comfort. I folded my hands and simply said, “Baba, he’s in pain. Please help him.” I closed my eyes. And then, unexpectedly, a quiet image formed in my mind: a spoonful of salt.

 Salt? Why salt? I opened my eyes and looked at Baba’s photo again. I wasn’t sure if it was divine intuition or just a stray thought, but something urged me to trust it.

 I called Ravi. “Tomorrow morning, before breakfast, dissolve a pinch of salt in warm water and drink it. Do the same in the evening. Not too much—just a pinch.” “Salt water?” he asked, puzzled. “Yes,” I said. “Don’t ask why. Just do it.” He trusted me enough not to argue. Three days passed.

On the fourth, my phone buzzed at 7 a.m. It was Ravi. I picked up quickly. “Something’s changed,” he said. His voice was calm but tinged with surprise.


 “Last night, I woke up only once. And since morning, I’ve gone just twice. I feel like I’m returning to normal.”

 Another few days went by. The improvement held steady. No relapses. No urgency. No distress.


 I was overjoyed—not because of any credit I could take, but because he had been set free from something that none of the country’s best hospitals had been able to touch. It was as if a divine hand had reached down and tweaked something inside him. Later that week, my curiosity got the better of me.

 I opened my laptop and typed in: salt water for frequent urination. Page after page of research studies, folk remedies, and anecdotal evidence poured out before me. Salt water, taken in small amounts, helps in balancing electrolytes, improving adrenal function, and reducing inflammation in the bladder. Some experts believed it could reset certain neural signals related to bladder urgency, especially when the cause was not structural but subtle—like over-sensitization of nerves due to stress. I leaned back, stunned.

 Baba had known.


 There was nothing mystical about salt—but the timing, the inspiration, and the faith—it all felt guided. Ravi continues to do well. He’s back to driving, traveling, even trekking. The bag of x-rays lies forgotten in a corner of his cupboard. Whenever we talk now, he always ends with the same words: “I was healed not by a medicine, but by a prayer and a pinch of salt.” And I know in my heart—that it was never the salt alone."

 "It was grace."