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R.
K. Narayan
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 re-splendent 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-coloured turban around his head. This colour 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 doth, 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 criss-cross 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 labour 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 pies 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 fullest 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 pies 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 matchlight.
There was a pause as cars hooted on the road, jutka drivers swore at
their horses, and the babble of the crowd agitated the semi-darkness 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 to- morrow.” The other thrust his palm in his face and said: “Challenge
is challenge. Go on.” The as- trologer 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
passer-by 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.
As I know all other things. Guru Nayak, listen
carefully to what I have to say. Your village is two day's journey due north of
this town. Take the next train and be gone. I see once again great danger to
your life if you go from home.” He took out a pinch of sacred ash and held it
to him. “Rub it 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
other said reflectively. “I was only going away now and then to look for him
and to choke out his life if I met him.” He shook his head regretfully. “He has
escaped my hands. I hope at least he died as he deserved.” “Yes,” said the
astrologer. “He was crushed under a lorry.” The other looked gratified to hear
it.
The place was deserted by the time the
astrologer picked up his articles and put them into his bag. The green shaft
was also gone, leaving the place in darkness and silence. The stranger had gone
off into the night, after giving the astrologer a handful of coins.
It was nearly midnight when the
astrologer reached home. His wife was waiting for him at the door and demanded
an explanation. He flung the coins at her and said: “Count them. One man gave
all that.”
“Twelve and a half annas,” she said,
counting. She was overjoyed. “I can buy some jaggery and coconut tomorrow. The
child has been asking for sweets for so many days now. I will prepare some nice
stuff for her.”
“The swine has cheated me! He promised
me a rupee,” said the astrologer. She looked up at him. “You look worried. What
is wrong?”
“Nothing.”
After dinner, sitting on the pyol, he
told her: “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 quarrelled badly one day why think of it now?
Time to sleep,” he said, yawning, and stretched himself on the pyol.
~x~
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