"Well, Sis, I feel I am going to have a boil tomorrow. I am testing
your ointment on the spot where the boil will appear."

"You little liar!"

"Sis, don't call me a liar until you see what happens in the
morning." Indignation filled me.

Uma was unimpressed, and thrice repeated her taunt. An adamant
resolution sounded in my voice as I made slow reply.

"By the power of will in me, I say that tomorrow I shall have
a fairly large boil in this exact place on my arm; and YOUR boil
shall swell to twice its present size!"

Morning found me with a stalwart boil on the indicated spot; the
dimensions of Uma's boil had doubled. With a shriek, my sister
rushed to Mother. "Mukunda has become a necromancer!" Gravely,
Mother instructed me never to use the power of words for doing
harm. I have always remembered her counsel, and followed it.

My boil was surgically treated. A noticeable scar, left by
the doctor's incision, is present today. On my right forearm is a
constant reminder of the power in man's sheer word.

Those simple and apparently harmless phrases to Uma, spoken
with deep concentration, had possessed sufficient hidden force to
explode like bombs and produce definite, though injurious, effects.
I understood, later, that the explosive vibratory power in speech
could be wisely directed to free one's life from difficulties, and