The Covenant of Water

by Abraham Verghese

Aah, I said. Enough about that. I didn’t come to talk about your signboard. I’m a collector of wart cures, of which there are legion. Yes, yes, he said, most agreeably, and moreover, he added, the common ingredient to all the cures is belief. When a cure works it’s because the patient believes. When the cures are elaborate it’s easier to believe. That’s human nature. Fair enough, I said, because for once I agreed with him. So, I said. Tell me, what do you do for your wart patients? He held out his hand. I asked, What’s that? Put money there, please. If a patient cares enough to put money in my hand, that means they have faith. Then my cure is sure to work. I took my bicycle off the stand, ready to leave. I don’t have warts, I said. I’m asking as a journalist. He said, You are sadly mistaken—I diagnosed warts the first moment I saw you. Where? Show me! Aah, but your warts are all on the inside, as you surely know. His hand was still held out. Dear Reader, don’t judge me harshly. Tears of understanding sprang to my eyes. I put money in the doctor’s hand. Doctor, I said, I am desperate. And I believe.

Woah