Punctually at midday he opened his bag and spread out his professional equipment,
which consisted of a dozen cowrie shells, a square piece of cloth with obscure mystic
charts on it, a notebook, and a bundle of palmyra writing. His forehead was
resplendent with sacred ash and vermilion, and his eyes sparkled with a sharp,
abnormal gleam which was really an outcome of a continual searching look for
customers, but which his simple clients took to be a prophetic light and felt comforted.
The power of his eyes was considerably enhanced by their position—placed as they
were between the painted forehead and the dark whiskers which streamed down his
cheeks: even a half-wit’s eyes would sparkle in such a setting. To crown the effect he
wound a saffron-colored turban around his head. This color scheme never failed.
People were attracted to him as bees are attracted to cosmos or dahlia stalks. He sat
under the boughs of a spreading tamarind tree which flanked a path running through
the town hall park. It was a remarkable place in many ways: a surging crowd was
always moving up and down this narrow road morning till night. A variety of trades and
occupations was represented all along its way: medicine sellers, sellers of stolen
hardware and junk, magicians, and, above all, an auctioneer of cheap cloth, who
created enough din all day to attract the whole town. Next to him in vociferousness
came a vendor of fried groundnut, who gave his ware a fancy name each day, calling it
“Bombay Ice Cream” one day, and on the next “Delhi Almond,” and on the third “Raja’s
Delicacy,” and so on and so forth, and people flocked to him. A considerable portion of
this crowd dallied before the astrologer too. The astrologer transacted his business by
the light of a flare which crackled and smoked up above the groundnut heap nearby.
Half the enchantment of the place was due to the fact that it did not have the benefit of
municipal lighting. The place was lit up by shop lights. One or two had hissing
gaslights, some had naked flares stuck on poles, some were lit up by old cycle lamps,
and one or two, like the astrologer’s, managed without lights of their own. It was a
bewildering crisscross of light rays and moving shadows. This suited the astrologer
very well, for the simple reason that he had not in the least intended to be an
astrologer when he began life; and he knew no more of what was going to happen to
others than he knew what was going to happen to himself next minute. He was as
much a stranger to the stars as were his innocent customers. Yet he said things which
pleased and astonished everyone: that was more a matter of study, practice, and
shrewd guesswork. All the same, it was as much an honest man’s labor as any other,
and he deserved the wages he carried home at the end of a day.
He had left his village without any previous thought or plan. If he had continued there
he would have carried on the work of his forefathers—namely, tilling the land, living,
marrying, and ripening in his cornfield and ancestral home. But that was not to be.
He had to leave home without telling anyone, and he could not rest till he left it behind a
couple of hundred miles. To a villager it is a great deal, as if an ocean flowed between.
He had a working analysis of mankind’s troubles: marriage, money, and the tangles of
human ties. Long practice had sharpened his perception. Within five minutes he
understood what was wrong. He charged three paise8 per question, never opened his
mouth till the other had spoken for at least ten minutes, which provided him enough
stuff for a dozen answers and advices. When he told the person before him, gazing at
his palm, “In many ways you are not getting the results for your efforts,” nine out of ten
were disposed to agree with him. Or he questioned: “Is there any woman in your
family, maybe even a distant relative, who is not well disposed towards you?” Or he
gave an analysis of character: “Most of your troubles are due to your nature. How can
you be otherwise with Saturn where he is? You have an impetuous nature and a rough
exterior.” This endeared him to their hearts immediately, for even the mildest of us
loves to think that he has a forbidding exterior.
The nuts vendor blew out his flare and rose to go home. This was a signal for the
astrologer to bundle up too, since it left him in darkness except for a little shaft of green
light which strayed in from somewhere and touched the ground before him. He picked
up his cowrie shells and paraphernalia and was putting them back into his bag when
the green shaft of light was blotted out; he looked up and saw a man standing before
him. He sensed a possible client and said, “You look so careworn. It will do you good
to sit down for a while and chat with me.” The other grumbled some reply vaguely. The
astrologer pressed his invitation; whereupon the other thrust his palm under his nose,
saying, “You call yourself an astrologer?” The astrologer felt challenged and said, tilting
the other’s palm towards the green shaft of light, “Yours is a nature ...” “Oh, stop that,”
the other said. “Tell me something worthwhile....”
Our friend felt piqued. “I charge only three paise per question, and what you get ought
to be good enough for your money....” At this the other withdrew his arm, took out an
anna, and flung it out to him, saying, “I have some questions to ask. If I prove you are
bluffing, you must return that anna to me with interest.”
“If you find my answers satisfactory, will you give me five rupees?”
“No.”
“Or will you give me eight annas?”
“All right, provided you give me twice as much if you are wrong,” said the stranger. This
pact was accepted after a little further argument. The astrologer sent up a prayer to
heaven as the other lit a cheroot. The astrologer caught a glimpse of his face by the
match light. There was a pause as cars hooted on the road, jutka drivers swore at their
horses, and the babble of the crowd agitated the semidarkness of the park.
The other sat down, sucking his cheroot, puffing out, sat there ruthlessly. The astrologer felt very
uncomfortable. “Here, take your anna back. I am not used to such challenges. It is late
for me today....”
He made preparations to bundle up. The other held his wrist and said, “You can’t get
out of it now. You dragged me in while I was passing.” The astrologer shivered in his
grip; and his voice shook and became faint. “Leave me today. I will speak to you
tomorrow.” The other thrust his palm in his face and said, “Challenge is challenge. Go
on.” The astrologer proceeded with his throat drying up, “There is a woman ...”
“Stop,” said the other “I don’t want all that. Shall I succeed in my present search or
not? Answer this and go. Otherwise I will not let you go till you disgorge all your coins.”
The astrologer muttered a few incantations and replied, “All right. I will speak. But will
you give me a rupee if what I say is convincing? Otherwise I will not open my mouth,
and you may do what you like.” After a good deal of haggling the other agreed. The
astrologer said, “You were left for dead. Am I right?”
“Ah, tell me more.”
“A knife has passed through you once?” said the astrologer.
“Good fellow!” He bared his chest to show the scar. “What else?”
“And then you were pushed into a well nearby in the field. You were left for dead.”
“I should have been dead if some passerby had not chanced to peep into the well,”
exclaimed the other, overwhelmed by enthusiasm. “When shall I get at him?” he asked,
clenching his fist.
“In the next world,” answered the astrologer. “He died four months ago in a far-off
town. You will never see any more of him.” The other groaned on hearing it. The astrologer proceeded:
“Guru Nayak—”
“You know my name!” the other said, taken aback.
“Do you know a great load is gone from me today? I thought I had the blood of a man on my hands all these years. That was the reason why I ran away from home, settled here, and married you. He is alive.”
She gasped. “You tried to kill!”
“Yes, in our village, when I was a silly youngster. We drank, gambled, and quarreled
badly one day—why think of it now? Time to sleep,” he said, yawning, and stretched himself on the pyol.
