Growing up, I often heard a curious saying passed down from my mother —"If a twin massages your aching limb, the pain will go away." It was a simple yet powerful belief, whispered with warmth and conviction. Back then, I viewed twins with fascination, almost as if they carried a touch of magic with them.
Little did I know that one day, I’d be the mother of twins myself—a daughter and a son—and that I would turn to that same belief, not just as folklore, but as comfort in a moment of pain.
A few days ago, I developed a stubborn neck sprain. The stiffness made it hard to turn my head, and despite taking medicines and applying ointments, the discomfort only seemed to worsen. The pain began to spread downward, and I started to feel anxious—worried that it might take longer than usual to heal.
Then, like a gentle whisper from the past, the memory of that old saying came to me. Half playfully and half seriously, I turned to my 11 year-old daughter and said, "You're a twin, aren’t you? Why don’t you try massaging my neck? They say it works." Her eyes lit up—children have an intuitive way of embracing stories like this, and she was more than eager to try.
She warmed some Ayurvedic oil—a traditional blend we keep at home—and gently massaged my neck. She even placed a warm water bag afterward. There was something so tender and sincere in the way she did it, pausing now and then to ask, “Amma, is it working? Do you feel better?”
To my surprise, I actually did feel better. The pain began to ease. Maybe it was the warmth of the oil. Maybe it was the effect of the compress. Or maybe—just maybe—it was her touch. A twin’s touch. My daughter’s touch.
Afterwards, I did what anyone curious would do: I searched for medical or scientific explanations behind this belief. But I couldn’t find anything that directly supported it. There's no established scientific proof that being a twin gives someone a special power to heal others through touch. Still, science doesn’t always account for the full depth of human experience. Just because something isn’t explained yet doesn’t mean it has no value. There’s a certain richness in lived traditions—local knowledge passed through generations—that holds meaning far beyond research papers.
I remembered how elders in my family used to speak of this. My mother told me stories of twins being called upon during times of illness. Even my mother-in-law recalled a pair of twins in the family who were trusted with applying oils or herbal medicine. It was believed that the medicine worked better when applied by a twin, especially in traditional or Ayurvedic contexts where timing, intention, and the person administering the remedy all mattered.
Whether or not science validates this belief, I know what I felt: relief, comfort, and a deep emotional connection. And maybe that’s what matters most. Because when healing comes with love, belief, and care, it becomes something more than just physical recovery.
That day, I didn’t just feel the easing of pain. I felt the presence of tradition, the echoes of family wisdom, and the quiet magic of a child’s hands guided by love and belief.
And perhaps, that’s what healing truly is!
