Authors: Manjiri Prabhu
Fortunately, the rest of her visit passed uneventfully. But Sonia felt immense relief when she was safely in the return train to Pune. For all the opportunities in Mumbai, she would never ever leave good old Pune, she decided.
She settled comfortably in her cushioned seat and watched the high-rise buildings of Mumbai vanish and lush fields replace the backwaters of the creeks. The rain slithered and sizzled, draping the rich green scenery with a glossy sheen. Hills rose gently on one side and rice fields stretched out on the other. Sonia sighed with pleasure. It was breathtaking. Mumbai–Pune travel during the monsoons was always a picturesque affair.
As the movement of the train lulled her senses, she wondered what Mohnish was doing at that moment. Working on some documentary, most probably. Considering she had associated so closely with him this past year and a half, it was amazing how little she actually knew about his whereabouts and his doings. She really ought to do some background research on him. Before she found herself too deeply linked—at least in thought—to him!
Automatically, as a sequel to that notion, her imagination conjured a pair of blue-green eyes. The Owl. What must
he
be doing now? With his propensity for international thefts, he must undoubtedly be hatching a plan to steal more prized jewels in some corner of the world. Idly, she considered when she would meet with him again, if she ever did. Would he ever dare try to contact her? Apart from the birthday card and the email he had sent her, The Owl had made no further attempt to approach her. Which was perfectly fine with her. If she hadn’t had a score to settle, she would have never afforded the crook another thought. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, she admitted hastily. She already had the sneaking suspicion that he had made a substantial, almost impressive dent in her carefully constructed wall of indifference for him.
Sonia allowed her eye to casually travel over the nearly-empty
bogey.
On a Sunday evening, she was not surprised there were only six people sitting scattered in the
bogey.
Her attention was caught by the man seated opposite her, who was candidly observing her with a great deal of interest. He seemed vaguely familiar. Had she met him before? Sonia racked her brain for a hint.
The stranger was in his fifties, with a receding hairline which was sprinkled abundantly with grey. Round silver-rimmed spectacles rested tidily on his nose. A thin white moustache, on a plump, lined face, seemed vaguely undecided about its future. Dressed in a white, blue-striped cotton kurta, the man had a definite air of superiority.
“Sonia Samarth?” He leaned forward, catching her eye.
Sonia turned.
“I’m Charan Das,” the man said.
“Charan Das…the Astrologer?” she asked, in surprise.
“That’s right. I recognised you instantly.” Charan Das smiled, revealing slightly yellowed teeth.
“Oh!” The detective was a little abashed. “I read your horoscope weekly in the
Citizen Magazine.
It’s very interesting!”
“You mean monotonous!” Charan Das grinned. “It’s unavoidable, isn’t it? The planetary positions don’t change day to day, sometimes not even for months. In that case, the overall predictions remain boringly the same. It’s just the language and emphasis on different events that change.”
“I know.” Sonia nodded sympathetically. “But you’re still very convincing.”
“Thank you. You are being kind. But it’s difficult to satisfy an ever-curious reader, a person who wants to know everything! No one can predict
everything
!”
“I agree. Astrology has its limitations. Or should we say, more time and serious research need to be devoted to the science.”
“Even then, it’s tough to predict accurately. Also, there is the matter of belief and disbelief. Some believe in Astrology to the extent that everything they do is governed by astrological guidelines. And then there are some who scoff at it. And how can you blame them? Their lives definitely don’t follow the pattern their horoscopes have hinted at.”
Sonia was silent. She really did not wish to get into an argument over the truth of astrological predictions and the levels of people’s degree of credulity. Like Mohnish had said, each to his own belief. However, she knew from experience that life very rarely strayed away from the birth chart. It merely needed an expert eye to point out exactly how the horoscope had affected a person’s life. And to be very honest, very few were really qualified at such a level. Intuition, research, a non-commercial attitude, and a compassionate mind had a great deal to do with it. But at the moment she had no desire to expound on the qualities of the science and its influence on humans. Specially not to an Astrologer of repute who practised it as his profession!
The train chugged with a rhythm of its own. A foreigner with a haversack loaded on his back shuffled through the compartment to the next. Was Karjat Station approaching? Sonia loved the
batata wadas
sold at Karjat Station. Despite the heavy wedding luncheon, her stomach rumbled appreciatively at the thought of a
batata wada—
mashed, chilied potatoes, moulded and dipped in gram paste and then deep-fried. She glanced out of the window as the train slowed. The rain pelted down as the long ends of the platform slid into view, wet and splashy, and then the main station came into sight. The train slowed and squeaked to a halt.
Immediately vendors rushed into the compartment, offering an assortment of fast foods.
“Fried hot Samosas!”
“Karjat special
Batata Wada-a-a-s
!”
“Sandwi-e-e-e-ch!”
“Garam chai!”
“Idli, idli, idli!”
“Coffee-e-e-e!”
The nasal, elongated, high-pitched tones of the vendors seemed to ring in the compartment, as delicious smells whiffed into the air.
“Would you like to have
wadas
?” Sonia asked her companion.
“Oh yes, Karjat is special for its
wadas.
Can’t afford to miss them!”
Sonia smiled. “Same here!”
She hailed a passing vendor who was carrying his
wadas
on a tray covered with a white cloth. She ordered four
wadas
and dug into her handbag for the money.
“Please, let me pay!” Charan Das protested.
“No, let me!”
A minor tussle ensued, as the vendor placed the food on paper plates and waited impatiently for payment. Finally Sonia won. The vendor accepted the money, handed the plates to Sonia, and immediately moved on to cover as much sale as possible.
Sonia passed two
wadas
to Charan Das.
“Oh, thank you! You needn’t have!” the Astrologer exclaimed, a little bashfully.
The rain lashed on the corrugated sheets which roofed the station. Outside, hawkers stood on the platform, with cane baskets raised on crossed sticks, or frying food in huge black iron
kadais—
deep-frying utensils—on wheeled carts.
Glad of the warmth in the compartment and to be out of the rain, Sonia tucked into the spicy delicious
batata wada,
a dish almost synonymous with the rains. Sonia even savoured the salted, red hot spicy
chatni
that supported the dish. She felt totally satiated after she had polished off the
wadas
and topped the snack with a cup of hot tea.
“The train stops at Karjat for about ten minutes. An additional engine is attached to the end of the train, so as to enable the steep climb to Pune,” Charan Das explained, as the train lurched. “That was the engine being attached!”
Even as he spoke, the whistle blew and passengers hastily ascended the train. Vendors making last-minute sales walked along with the train as it moved slowly forward, passing eatables and accepting money through the grilled windows. As the train chugged out of the platform and into the rolling green landscape, Sonia glanced outside. Soon, the
ghats
—mountain passes—would begin and steep waterfalls would plunge from tree-covered, misty mountains into deep, dense valleys.
“We were talking about belief or disbelief in Astrology. Weren’t we?” Charan Das crushed the thermacol teacup and stuffed it into the tiny dustbin. “I have a very interesting example to narrate to you. About this exceptional couple I know. I’ve known them for a long time.” He leaned over and added in a confidential tone, “This is a story which defies all astrological predictions!”
“Really?” Sonia’s curiosity was instantly piqued.
“Janavi Sathe was an extremely beautiful girl. Tall, slim, long thick hair, and blue eyes; she was studying medicine. She had a great future ahead of her. But her horoscope revealed a break in career and a lousy marriage. However, she always scoffed at horoscopes, saying they were an escape route for weaklings. I’ve never known a more proud and independent girl than Janavi Sathe.
“As it happened, in the midst of her studies, her parents suddenly arranged her marriage with Dinesh Ranade! Out of the blue, Janavi had to give up medicine and marry a Professor of Economics. But that was not all. He was one of the most…how can I put it…‘unpresentable’ guys you could ever meet. He had a kind of messed-up face, and his features were in all the wrong proportions. In short, Dinesh Ranade was no match for Janavi’s beauty and they were a most unsuited couple. We all thought that her marriage was doomed from the beginning. At least that’s what her horoscope revealed. An unhappy marriage, with a dominating husband and a career wasted running after him!”
“What happened?” Sonia asked.
“The horoscope was wrong!” Charan Das leaned against his seat. “Not a thing happened according to the predictions, just as Janavi said. She had a very, very happy marriage and the couple doted on each other. I never heard her utter a single complaint against him. In fact, all I ever heard was what a wonderful person her husband was, how caring and sensitive and how much Dinesh loved her and her cooking and how he insisted on eating food prepared only by her. She, in turn, enjoyed caring for him and doing all kinds of tasks for him. Life for her was most satisfying. She adjusted beautifully to her married life and proved all our predictions wrong. She even pursued a career, handling a flourishing business in catering. It helped her to operate from home and manage both her house and career successfully, and she claimed her new career was far better than medicine, for which she realised she had no flair anyway! In fact, she did so well in her business, finally her husband stopped his professorship and took to meditation!
“They even had a son, who grew up to be a very handsome and intelligent boy. From a young age she put him in boarding school and he went on to do his Business Management and today he is on a big post in the U.S. Though I meet him rarely, I heard that the boy is doing really well and his parents are extremely proud of him.”
“Is he still in the U.S.?”
“Sunil—his name is Sunil—comes to India once a year, but he’s happy in the U.S.”
“What is Janavi doing now?”
“Now I come to a point which really and truly defies Astrology!” Charan Das remarked, a little pompously. “Some years ago, Janavi’s husband had a heart attack. He had to have surgery. Her parents and I suggested that she choose an auspicious day for the surgery. You won’t believe this, but she flatly refused. She said that every day for her was a good and auspicious day and that she loved Dinesh so much, nothing would happen to him! A very noble and positive thought and we could not make her see reason. However, as luck would have it, the day of the surgery turned out to be a most inauspicious day in the almanac. I was terribly worried. I was convinced that this stubbornness on her part would result in her husband’s death. But, wonder of wonders, the operation was a success and Dinesh came out of surgery safe and unharmed! After that, two more operations took place over a couple of years—all on days I would have never recommended—but each time he emerged unscathed. That was when I really and truly applauded Janavi. It was the sheer strength of the woman which saved the husband. Right from the beginning, her faith in herself and not her horoscope was admirable. And that’s when I began to believe that you
can
control your destiny. Horoscopes can guide, but they do not necessarily dominate your life. And in September the two of them are going to go on a short holiday together to a hill resort. It is their wedding anniversary and she wants to be with him, celebrating his good health with nature!”
Silence ensued. The train chugged and the rain poured, as Sonia digested the story meditatively. The mountains were now visible with the mist clinging in pockets to the tops. Waterfalls of various sizes crashed and splattered down the mossy mountainsides and vanished into rocky crevices and valleys.
Sonia turned to Charan Das thoughtfully. “Very interesting indeed. Do you happen to remember their horoscopes?”
“Of course. Janavi’s zodiac sign is Scorpio, with Cancer in the ascendant. Rahu and Mars in the first house with Cancer; Harshal in the second house with Leo; Neptune in the fourth house with Libra; Venus and the Moon in the fifth house with Scorpio; Sun, Saturn, Mercury, and Ketu in the seventh house with Capricorn, and Jupiter in the eighth house with Aquarius.”
“Hmm…” Sonia nodded reflectively. “And Dinesh?”
“Taurus is Dinesh’s zodiac sign, with Scorpio as the ascendant. Sun, Mercury, Saturn, and Rahu in the first house with Scorpio; Mars in the fourth house with Aquarius; Moon and Ketu in the seventh house with Taurus; Harshal in the ninth house with Cancer; Jupiter in the eleventh house with Virgo; and Venus and Neptune in the twelfth house with Libra.”
Sonia took in this information silently, her brain doing swift calculations. She closed her eyes and the horoscopes came into sharp focus, as clearly as if she had drawn them out on a paper and was holding them before her that very moment. Interesting, very interesting indeed!
The vision of a person removing his baggage from an overhead compartment intruded on her mind. Another person sitting directly below instinctively raises a helping hand. This instinct arises more out of the fear of the bag falling on him than out of any real spirit of offering help.