[Charmaine Shackleton was a model who grew up in Goa. Below is an interesting story which throws light on current beliefs among some Goans.]

The doctors said she'd never model again, but a miracle changed CHARMAINE SHACKLETON'S fate

WINNING the Femina Look of the Year 1995 contest was the best thing that ever happened to me. Having a near fatal accident a year later, wasn't.

It was August 2, 1996. I decided to treat my cousins, aunt and uncle to a movie ('Ace Ventura'). The little ones were quite excited about their evening out and everyone was in great spirits -- it wasn't often that I took them out (blame it on the heavy work schedule). This was one of those rare occasions.

While trying to catch a cab, we passed under the pulley gate (quite similar to those you come across at a level crossing), so typical of defence areas. (I live in Navy Nagar, in Mumbai, with my aunt and uncle and that's where the action took place. And it seemed straight out of a Hindi movie.)

Well, the next thing I knew was that I'd woken up in a hospital, a few hours later. As it turned out, while we walked under the gate, a truck passing by unbalanced the gate which came crashing down on me! It hit my forehead and, with the force, I fell backwards, unconscious.

My aunt and uncle, with the help of some naval guards, lifted me into a truck and took me to the Ashwini Hospital. According to my aunt, my eyes were open and I was as white as a sheet. They all thought that this was definitely the end of me.

By the time I regained consciousness that evening, I had six internal and six external stitches sutured into my forehead. What I felt, however, was a terrible pain in my neck and a tingling sensation in my shoulders. An X-ray revealed that my vertebrae (C1 and C2) had been dislocated by three centimetres.

The excruciating pain numbed my senses and I kept drifting between consciousness and unconsciousness. I was shifted to the Intensive Care Unit to be monitored for a hemorrhage and was kept under observation for almost 24 hours.

I was quite dazed through the next day too. Everything I said was incoherent, I couldn't eat or drink and found myself attached to a drip.

For at least three weeks after that , I was put into traction with a brace. It was the most uncomfortable period of my life -- I simply couldn't move. I had to eat, sleep and read in that position, staring up at the ceiling. Since the hospital overlooks the sea, I had a mirror angled near the window so I could see the ships pass by. Gosh! It was all so terrible.

Of course, the one saving grace was that I received a lot of attention. Friends brought me flowers, chocolates and reading material; some would even massage my hands and legs. Hemant Trivedi (designer/choreographer), Lubna Adams (choreographer), Imam Siddique, Sathya Saran (editor of 'Femina') and a whole bunch of my fellow models would drop by to visit me. I was really sweet with them while my mother was the one who had to put up with all my frustration and tantrums. Sometimes we'd both cry together. The doctors said the accident could have been fatal and that there still were chances of numbness or paralysis.

When General Rodricks, the ex-chief of Army Staff and a good family friend and neighbour, came to see me, he brought along a magazine with news on Christopher Reeves' accident. And according to the diagrams and report printed, his injury was similar to mine, except for being a degree or two more serious.

In hospital, I had a lot of time to introspect. I couldn't help thinking that I'd never be able to model again. As it is, I'd missed out on the Tips 'n' Toes campaign and quite a few other shows -- Krishna Mehta, the Raymonds show, etc. And to add insult to injury, the doctors occurred me to wear a collar for the next six months. I was shattered; I could see my career as a model going down the drain. Friends and family who came to visit were a big boost, though all the goodies they brought along made me put on a lot of weight and, obviously, I couldn't exercise.

After a moth-and-a-half in hospital, my mother took me home to Goa. The flight was bad -- I couldn't sit for long. I thought the nightmare would never end.

Back in Goa, a couple of friends told us about Father Salvadore, a priest in Siolim near Mapusa, who healed people. Since I had nothing more to lose, I went to meet him. I was curious, but didn't go with the expectations of being healed. All through the mass, I was in pain. I didn't pray to get healed. All through the mass, I was in pain. I didn't pray to get healed. Rather, I prayed for the strength to get through it all.

Sometime during the service, Father Salvadore went around the congregation blessing people. He'd spend more time or some people, while and his technique seemed pretty rough on others. He'd literally yank or pull on the diseased parts of their bodies, making them cry out in pain. This made me apprehensive and skeptical -- I kept as far away from him as far away from him as possible.

And then he saw me and ordered me to come closer. With a swift movement, he pressed down on my shoulder blades making me cry out in pain. Then he removed the collar from around my neck and told me to move it.

Now, just for the record, I was supposed to keep the collar on 24-hours-a-day for six months. When I did remove it once (for a catscan), before leaving Mumbai, my neck slumped down. But when Father Salvadore removed the collar, it didn't. However, I couldn't move my neck. Then, with his own hands, the priest moved my neck sideways and up and down and, believe me when I say this, it sounded like the creaking of an old gate being opened.

And suddenly, I realised I could move it. I was normal again. While the doctors told me I'd take over six months to recover, this priest cured me within a month-and-a-half, by just pressing down on my shoulders and ordering me to move my neck. I was overwhelmed, in pain, skeptical and relieved all at the same time. Fearing my injury would get even worse, I quickly put the collar back on. An old woman came and said to me "Have you no faith? Father has healed you -- do as he says." seeing my doubts, the priest ordered me to take the collar off again and proclaimed me healed.

Since I'd already accepted my fate for the next six months, I was surprised at being healed in just two months. I hadn't for a moment believed that I'd walk away from that healing service without the collar around my neck! Interestingly, the miracle occurred on Friday, the 13th.

The news spread fast. Lubna called and booked me for the Citibank shows. She hadn't even seen me after the time she'd visited me in hospital. I guess all the fears I had about returning to modeling at that time were needless. It was such a thrill to be able to look down at my toes and my belt -- till I realised I'd have to lose weight, fast.

A couple of days later, I consulted my neurosurgeon for a catscan. She, too, was amazed to find I was, indeed, healed. The vertebrae were back in position!

When I went back to meet Father Salvadore, he asked me if I'd spent enough time in prayer while in Mumbai. I admitted that I hadn't. In fact, I hadn't even attended Sunday mass regularly. Then he told me that the entire accident and healing was god's way of getting me back to him. From that moment onwards, I believed. I stopped taking advantage of the Lord, praying to him only when I wanted something. I realised how important god and prayer were in life.

I was so grateful, I even attended a subsequent healing service and narrated my experience. It was my way of thanking god and spreading his word. My testimony was a message to other people to have faith and believe in the almighty.

Back in Mumbai, the doctors were amazed at my recovery and admitted that it was nothing short of a glorious miracle. Though some people are skeptical when I tell them my story, I know that it was truly god who healed me through Father Salvadore.

My road to recovery was quick. I exercised and played tennis to lose weight and I always made time for prayer. Even today, I spend at least five minutes in prayer each day and thank god for the littlest of blessings.

Though traumatic and disastrous, the entire episode has been a learning experience for me. Most of all, it has taught me that there is a god who loves us. And what a strange way to be taught that lesson! As told to RANJIT RODRICKS.