Destiny

Raghav, the go-getting young man in her hobby class, wanted Rashmi to introduce him to her beautiful classmate Akira. “What is the point?”, Rashmi warned him. “Her parents are devout Tamil brahmins and she will be allowed to marry only someone whose horoscope matches hers.” Unlike most Indians who have their horoscope prepared at birth, Rashmi did not have one since her progressive parents did not believe in horoscopes. They belonged to a reformist sect of Hinduism that viewed Indian astrology as an irrational knowledge system and believed that one could shape one’s own destiny. Rashmi grew up with her black and white new-born photograph behind which her grandfather had carefully noted the date of her birth rather than a janampatri, as the horoscope is called in Hindi.

But Rashmi’s’ grandmother Sitawati secretly continued to entertain faqirs or mendicants in her courtyard in adherence to the folk religion she had practised before her husband had converted to the new reformist movement. Once her husband had left for work, she let in the old faqir begging for alms in the back street through the back door and softly cajoled him to foretell the new-born’s future. The old faqir, after relishing the delicious breakfast Sitawati had placed before him reverentially, agreed to read the new-born Rashmi’s palm. “This daughter born on the auspicious day of Durga Ashtami will be as strong as the goddess Durga and will not need any man’s support,” the faqir declared. Unable to imagine a life for a woman without a man, Sitawati became distraught, “But babaji, does this mean that she will never get married?” The faqir reassured her, “She will have enough money and a comfortable life. Marriage enchains one.” He made his way out to seek alms in the house next door. Sitawati kept pondering over the prophecy but did not dare to share it with anyone, not even with her daughter Rita, who was, at that moment, having a bath.

Rita, who had graduated with a bachelor’s degree in science a week before she got married, had no inkling about the faqir’s predictions and raised Rashmi following our own rational scientific outlook. Observing Rashmi’s inquisitive mind and hunger for learning, Rita encouraged her to excel in academics. She released her daughter from domestic duties that young Indian women are trained in from their early childhood so that Rashmi could pursue a career of her choice. Rita herself was forced to get married before she had turned nineteen and did not want her daughter to go through the same ordeal. Besides, Rashmi’s brown skin would come in the way of her finding a good match in their ‘fairness obsessed’ community. Scoffing at the superficially modern female students in her school who observed fasts, visited temples and rituals like traditional Hindu women to pray for a suitable husband, Rashmi remained oblivious of horoscopes until the family moved to the South. A near fatal accident had their neighbour, professing a deep interest in palmistry, read Rashmi’s palm and identifying the rupture in her lifeline around the age of 16, exactly the year Rashmi met with an accident. Peering deeply into Rashmi’s right palm, he comforted the anxious Rita that no harm will come to her in the next forty years, after which she detected another break in Rashmi’s lifeline.

A bright student who excelled in academics, Rashmi gained admission in an elite college and was astounded to find that her wealthy classmates from trading families fasted every Monday and visited the Shiva temple so that they could be blessed with a good husband. Her roommate, a plump fair Nepali girl, was a strong believer in what the stars foretold according to the western calendar. The Nepali lass never began her day without consulting Linda Goodman’s sun signs of which she possessed a paperback version. Rashmi herself would sneak a quick look into Peter Vidal’s weekly predictions in the Indian Express every Sunday but could not believe that anyone could began their day only after consulting their daily horoscope.

Reading the palm is a clever ploy used by young Indian men to hold young women’s hands, strictly forbidden in the years Rashmi was growing up. Rashmi was offered her share of palm readings by male admirers that she clearly saw through and refused to extend her palm. Besides, she did not need to know when she was going to get married as she had already found her true love and was soon to have a fairy-tale wedding. However, the cracks began to show shortly after their marriage as they had been young, immature, and probably not ready for marriage.

She came to know about a South Indian fellow student called Kedar who cast horoscopes as a hobby. She had caught him staring at her several times and he would often pay her extravagant compliments.  She was initially reluctant to take up his offer of casting her horoscope. But her curiosity about what the coming years had in store for her got the better of her and she promised to share with him details about her exact time of birth after checking it with her mother. “Ma, I have heard everyone say that it was at the crack of dawn. At what time exactly was I born?”, she made a frantic call to her mother. “Why do you want to know this all of a sudden?” Rita appeared surprised but informed Rashmi that she was born when it was ten minutes to 5 a.m. “Will I earn enough money? Will I get a good job?” Rashmi asked Kedar jocularly. Kedar promised to come back with her horoscope a week later. She spent sleepless nights worrying about what the future held for her. At last, the long wait was over. Kedar walked into her office with a wide grin and handed over her horoscope to her. She tried to focus her gaze on his bald pate as she heard him say as if through a haze, “You are going to earn enough money and will not be dependent on anyone.” “That is wonderful,’’ she thanked him thinking he looked as wise as the sage Chanakya. He swallowed and continued, “But your horoscope shows a separation between you and your husband.” Rashmi caught him leering at her and, as soon as he left, sat down holding her head in her hands. She looked up only when her best friend entered her room asking in her high-pitched voice, “Are you all right?”

“Kedar just brought me my horoscope and it shows some problems with my marriage,” Rashmi mumbled. “Why did you have to share your details with Kedar? Didn’t you know he also practices the magical art of Tantra and might tamper with your horoscope?” But what was done could not be undone. Kedar’s leering smile with the fateful prophecy kept appearing in all of Rashmi’s nightmares. But all her fears vanished at daybreak. Her husband was still very much in love with her and her marriage appeared to be intact.

Once again, a few years later, they were going through a rough patch and there was a self-styled palmist at hand, a middle aged South Indian staff member, Mr Iyer, who read everyone’s palms during the lunch hour. She agreed to show him hers on one of the days when he appeared to be relatively free. “You are in the wrong room. You should be elsewhere. In a different profession. This is not the right career for you.” He observed. “Your life is good. All your problems in life are due to your husband. His family has not made offerings to their ishtdeva (family god) and you are suffering as a consequence. She promptly came home and reported it to her husband’s mother, who, like her own mother, practiced a progressive form of Hinduism and was deeply offended to learn that Rashmi’s problems could have anything to do with her darling son. Her husband’s father snorted when she mentioned the family god. She reluctantly agreed to accompany another colleague to the house of a young astrologer who cast her horoscope. “You have the raja yoga. It is very rare. You will earn name and fame in the next ten year, “he smiled benignly in the expectation of a hefty fee. “But after that that … “. The astrologer’s assistant chimed in to display his knowledge but was hushed in mid-sentence by his senior. Rashmi went home and noticed that she was a manglik, which meant that she was destined not to be married. But she, ignorant of her stars, had defied her destiny and got married to a man of her choice. She also noticed that the astrologer had not made any predictions after age 60 to which his assistant had drawn his attention,

Since her husband continued to remain affectionate and caring over the years that followed, Rashmi forgot about Kedar’s horoscope, Mr Iyer’s warning and the young astrologer’s truncated horoscope until she found that her husband, who would share every detail of his life with her, had grown increasingly secretive. White lies like his parents not wanting her to attend his grandmother’s cremation and he himself giving it a skip that came to her knowledge through the guests made her wonder if anything was wrong. Unaware of what was going on in his mind, she began to read both their weekly horoscopes in the newspapers very carefully. With none to guide her, Rashmi began to rely on horoscopes to guess what he was planning to do. She realised that she had become a horoscope addict. Rashmi’s mornings would begin with consulting the horoscope on what the day had in store for her and she would act according to the leads provided by the astrologer. This went on for a decade with her checking on how many career moves, romances, change of location were predicted for her. When the inauspicious events did not come true, Rashmi would heave a sigh of relief while diligently following the remedies suggested by astrologers to avert misfortune. Her week, month and year was regulated by fasts, prayers, donations suggested by the gurus. She had become a true sanatani (orthodox) Hindu like her college mates observing all the rituals that would help to ward away evil. Rashmi’s house help would egg her on adding new rituals dedicated to tribal and local gods and goddesses.

This is when she came across the guru on YouTube who had his own channel. He had a wickedly Brahminical features and reminded her of someone, possibly a staff worker in her father’s factory, with a similar surname. For some wild reason, she began to follow his predictions uploaded on YouTube almost daily, particularly the annual forecast. Her annual forecast for the coming year appeared to be very promising, according to the YouTube astrologer’s predictions, which would bring her wealth, professional success, and love. But, he warned, all those born under the sun sign had to be particularly careful from mid-October to mid-November. The sun sign was under the influence of death and forbode the death of those born under the sign while assuring his viewers that its evil effects would be felt more by the elderly in their 80s and above. Rashmi was several decades younger. Why did she need to worry?

She had almost forgotten the inauspicious month until the pandemic struck the world. None was immune now from the sign of death, irrespective of their sun sign. Only the month differed. The words of the guru began to ring in her ears.  “On 23^rd October, Venus, the lord of your sun sign and life will be in the descendant. Remember not to drive fast, don’t forget to take your medicines, watch out if you break into a sweat. It is my duty to warn you.” It was October. Rashmi has been suffering from a mysterious ailment for the last few months. Was her end going to come soon? She asked herself and resigned herself to what the stars held in store for her.