Spectator
I have never been much of a believer in things like astrology, palmistry and numerology. Yes, I changed the spelling of my name, but that was in a lazy kind of way, more I suspect to please the nice old man who insisted I do so, and even then didn’t go through with all the other changes that he suggested.
I rarely find myself seated anxiously opposite astrologers, palmists and other psychics seeking their guidance. And on the few occasions that I have found myself in that position, I negate it all by promptly forgetting what they have told me the moment I leave their presence!
Nevertheless I suppose like every other Indian of my generation I have had at least half a dozen encounters with psychics of one kind or another, not so much out of a sense of wanting to know the future as much as a sense of wanting to be pleasantly surprised by a new trick or two.
As a journalist I once travelled to Pune to have my ‘leaf’ reading done. For those of you unfamiliar with this form of future-telling, it is sitting across from a couple of men who ask you a whole lot of eccentric questions, and then declare that the ‘leaf’ containing your destiny has been located and proceed to read it out with great flourish.
This method is based on the assumption that every single person who has inhabited this planet and who ever will has had their destiny inscribed on a set of leaves which are in the possession of a clan of Brahmins mainly located in Southern India.
I found the whole process rather dodgy: it occurred to me that the detailed question session that I had been put through could well have, with some astute juggling, provided all the answers that were later offered to me as my ‘destiny.’
In any case, I could not understand how on earth would it matter even if I was privy to information before it occurred? After all if my destiny had been written on a leaf millions of years ago wasn’t it as good as being carved in stone?
This approach to the paranormal does not make me in any way hostile to those who believe in it — or are its practitioners. Rather, it affords these people an interesting dimension, making them fascinating conversationalists.
My attitude when I meet them is ‘I haven’t so far had reason to be a believer, but hey, surprise me if you can!’
About five years ago, I guess I had a tiny miracle in this department. I had gone to a Tarot reader out of curiosity, who had predicted ‘great abundance’ in my life. That evening out of nowhere a friend who was leaving town for good, sent over a crate of wine. But I am a little embarrassed to admit that even while enjoying the wine, one part of me whispered that it must have been a happy coincidence.
All this thinking about the paranormal is because today I have scheduled myself for a Tarot reading from an individual I respect, who is otherwise rational, academic and as left brained as they come.
Will I finally become a believer? Watch this space!
