Shadows of Prophecy

Prompted by the stroke of noon, he opened his bag and laid out his professional tools: a dozen seashells, a cloth with mysterious charts, a notebook, and a bundle of ancient writings. His forehead shimmered with sacred ash and red powder, while his eyes sparkled with an intense and unusual gleam. It was not a prophetic light, but rather a result of his constant search for customers. Yet, his simple clients mistook it for divine radiance and found solace in it.

The magic of his eyes was further enhanced by their position between the painted forehead and the dark whiskers flowing down his cheeks. Even a person with average intelligence would have eyes that sparkled in such a setting. To complete his captivating appearance, he wrapped a turban of saffron-colored fabric around his head. This combination of colors never failed to attract people. They were drawn to him like bees to vibrant flowers. He positioned himself under a wide-spreading tamarind tree along a path that ran through the park adjacent to the town hall. This location was remarkable in several ways, as it constantly buzzed with a crowd moving up and down the narrow road throughout the day.

The road was filled with various trades and occupations. Alongside him, there were medicine sellers, vendors offering stolen items and junk, magicians, and, most notably, a cloth auctioneer who created enough noise to captivate the entire town. Many in the crowd also lingered before the astrologer. He conducted his business under the light of a crackling flare placed near the pile of groundnuts. The lack of municipal lighting added to the enchantment of the place. The park was illuminated by shop lights—some had hissing gas lamps, others had bare flares mounted on poles, and some relied on old bicycle lamps. Only a few, including the astrologer, managed without their own sources of light. The interplay of light rays and moving shadows created a bewildering display.

This setting suited the astrologer perfectly, even though he had never intended to be one when he first set out in life. He had no more knowledge of what would happen to others than he knew about his own future. His predictions were a result of study, practice, and clever guesswork. Nonetheless, his work was as honest as any other, and he earned his wages at the end of each day.

He had left his village without any prior thought or plan. If he had stayed, he would have followed in the footsteps of his ancestors—working the land, living, marrying, and growing old in his cornfield and ancestral home. But that was not his fate.

He had to leave his home without informing anyone, and he couldn't find peace until he had put a couple of hundred miles between himself and his village. To a villager, that distance felt immense, as if an ocean separated them. He had a good understanding of common human troubles: marriage, money, and the complexities of relationships. Years of experience had sharpened his perception. Within five minutes, he could grasp what was wrong. He charged three paise for each question, but he didn't speak until the other person had rambled on for at least ten minutes. This gave him enough material to provide a dozen answers and advice.

When he told the person before him, examining their palm, "In many ways, your efforts aren't yielding the desired results," nine out of ten would agree with him. Or he would ask, "Is there any woman in your family, even a distant relative, who isn't fond of you?" He would also analyze their character, saying things like, "Most of your troubles stem from your nature. It's hard to be different with Saturn where it is. You have an impulsive nature and a rough exterior." This immediately endeared him to their hearts because even the meekest among us loves to believe they have a stern appearance.

The vendor of nuts extinguished his flare, indicating that it was time to go home. This signaled the astrologer to pack up as well since it left him in darkness except for a faint shaft of green light that filtered in from somewhere and touched the ground before him. As he gathered his cowrie shells and other items, the green light disappeared. When he looked up, he saw a man standing in front of him. Sensing a potential client, he said, "You look troubled. It would do you good to sit down for a while and chat with me." The man grumbled a vague reply. The astrologer insisted, and the man abruptly thrust his palm under the astrologer's nose, challenging, "You call yourself an astrologer?" Feeling provoked, the astrologer tilted the man's palm toward the green shaft of light and said, "Your nature is..." "Oh, stop that," the man interrupted. "Tell me something worthwhile."

This challenge wounded our friend's pride. "I charge only three paise per question, and what you receive should be worth your money," he retorted. In response, the man withdrew his arm, took out a coin, and tossed it at him, saying, "I have some questions to ask. If I can prove that you're bluffing, you must return that coin to me with interest." "If you find my answers satisfactory, will you give me five rupees?" the astrologer inquired. "No." "Will you give me eight annas?" "Alright, but only if you give me twice as much if you're wrong," agreed the stranger after some further argument. They struck this pact, and as the other man lit a cheroot, the astrologer sent up a silent prayer. The astrologer caught a glimpse of the man's face in the light of the match. As cars honked on the road, horse-drawn carriages rattled, and the clamor of the crowd echoed through the semi-darkness of the park, the man sat there, puffing on his cheroot, relentless. The astrologer felt incredibly uncomfortable. "Here, take your coin back. I'm not accustomed to such challenges. It's late for me today..." he declared, preparing to pack up.

But the other man grabbed his wrist and said, "You can't back out now. You drew me in while I was passing by." The astrologer trembled in his grip, and his voice faltered. "Leave me for today. I'll speak to you tomorrow." The man thrust his palm towards him and said, "A challenge is a challenge. Continue." The astrologer, his throat dry, proceeded reluctantly, "There is a woman..." "Stop," interrupted the man. "I don't want to hear all that. Will I succeed in my current pursuit or not? Answer this and leave. Otherwise, I won't let you go until you hand over all your coins." The astrologer mumbled a few incantations and replied, "Alright, I'll speak. But will you give me a rupee if what I say is convincing? Otherwise, I won't utter a word, and you can do as you please." After much haggling, the man agreed. The astrologer said, "You were left for dead. Am I right?" "Ah, tell me more." "A knife has pierced your body once," uttered the astrologer.

"Good fellow!" exclaimed the man, baring his chest to reveal the scar. "What else?" "Then you were thrown into a nearby well in the field. They left you for dead." "I would have died if a passerby hadn't peered into the well," the man exclaimed, overwhelmed with excitement. "When will I get my hands on him?" he asked, clenching his fist. "In the next world," answered the astrologer. "He died four months ago in a distant town. You'll never see him again." The man groaned upon hearing this. The astrologer continued, "Guru Nayak—" "You know my name!" the man exclaimed, taken aback. "As I know all other things. Guru Nayak, listen carefully to what I have to say. Your village is a two-day journey due north of this town. Take the next train and leave. I see great danger to your life once again if you stay home." He took out a pinch of sacred ash and handed it to him. "Rub this on your forehead and go home. Never travel southward again, and you will live to be a hundred." "Why should I leave home again?" the man asked reflectively. "I was only going away occasionally to search for him and end his life if I found him." He shook his head regretfully. "He has slipped through my fingers. I hope he died as he deserved." "Yes," said the astrologer. "He was crushed under a truck." The man looked satisfied to hear that.

By the time the astrologer collected his belongings and placed them in his bag, the place had emptied out. The green shaft of light had vanished, leaving behind darkness and silence. The stranger had disappeared into the night, leaving the astrologer with a handful of coins. It was nearly midnight when the astrologer arrived home. His wife awaited him at the door, demanding an explanation. He tossed the coins at her and said, "Count them. One man gave me all of that." "Twelve and a half annas," she said, counting. She was overjoyed. "Tomorrow, I can buy some jaggery and coconuts. The child has been asking for sweets for days. I'll prepare something nice for her." "That swindler cheated me! He promised me a rupee," complained the astrologer. She looked up at him. "You seem troubled. What's wrong?" "Nothing."

After dinner, while sitting on the porch, he told her, "Do you know that a great burden has lifted from me today? I thought I had blood on my hands all these years. That's why I ran away from home, settled here, and married you. But he's still alive." She gasped. "You tried to kill someone?" "Yes, back in our village when I was a foolish young man. We drank, gambled, and had a terrible fight one day. Why think about it now? Time to sleep," he said, yawning, and stretched out on the porch.