GURUJI'S CLAIRVOYANCE

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Disclaimer: This post is a work of fiction and all characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Guruji'S Clairvoyance “Where are you planning to go, America, Australia or England?” Asked guruji - without taking his eyes off my palm. “You forgot Canada Guruji” I smiled and then turned around to look at my aunt. She smiled awkwardly. “Yeah, yeah, Canada too” guruji pulled out a small notepad from his shelf and searched for a pen he had in his hands a minute ago. “People your age don’t want to live in Nepal anymore.” “I am visiting Nepal guruji, I have been living in America for more than a decade now” Pallavi, my 19 year old cousin giggled, so did few other people in the room. My aunt, Nalini maiju, a staunch follower of guruji suddenly looked troubled. “Shut up Pallavi” she whispered curtly. “People your age don’t live in Nepal anymore” Guruji grinned, his yellow fangs were all visible, apparently Vaidyanath’s toothpowder doesn’t work as well as they claim. “I knew it the moment you walked in” “No you didn’t” I mumbled inaudibly. Gurji’s astrological proficiency had just fallen flat. I knew it, he knew it and everyone else in the room did except my dear maiju. Nalini maiju’s fads, when it came to religious purposes, were numerous. There was a time she was a devout worshipper of Ganeshji and walked all the way to Kamaladi Ganesh from Bishalnagar even during bandh, where no vehicles were allowed to operate. Prior to that, she, and her neighbors would wake up at three in the morning and drive to Bagalamukhi every Thursday – festooned with jewelries and makeup. Her latter endeavor, according to her, actually paid off, her older daughter, Deepti not only got admitted in Georgia tech with full tuition waiver; she also got married to a doctor in Atlanta few years later.  “She made me promise I worship Bagalamukhi every Thursday morning without fail.” My dear cousin’s husband, the Georgian doctor had lamented when we had met few years ago. “She is visiting us this November, should I send her to live with you guys for few weeks? “ I had stared at him; horrified. “I was just kidding Dada” he had patted on my shoulder smiling. It was my fourth day in Nepal, when, upon Nalini maiju’s relentless behest, my mother had persuaded me to go see this astrologer in Dillibazar. “She insists he knows everything, he even made her find the gold necklace she had lost months ago. So go see him, who knows he might say something nice.” “….like us having twins, remember that astrologer from Patan? I am glad his foretelling hit the sand, or else we’d have sent both kids to you?” “I would have been extremely delighted, are you guys planning on having one more” My mom was suddenly anxious. It was approximately 10:00am in the morning when Nalini Maiju picked me from Jawalakhel chowk. My uncle who was driving looked at me and frowned. “I can’t believe you’ve fallen prey to this” he shook his head. I smiled. I couldn’t either. I had this feeling that mama-maiju had an argument over something and everyone in the vehicle was quiet. It was obvious that my uncle didn’t like me being taken to this astrologer, and I was almost certain their argument was closely related to that matter. “What are you listening to?” I broke the eerie silence by pointing towards Pallavi’s ipod. “Lil’ Wayne”. She responded. “I wonder what guruji has to say to that, does maiju even know what hip hop is” I whispered. We both started laughing. Guruji’s office (or residence) was on the third floor of this old three storied house near pipalbot. The house had a bookstore on the first floor and a manpower office on the second. The stair well that led to his office was crowded with people who carried passports and travel documents outside the office.  My uncle had dropped us off along the sidewalk and had sped his car as if he had just stolen it. The first image that caught my eye as I entered Guruji’s place was a big picture of Shivaji hung on the right wall. On the wall across there were pictures of Krishnaji, Shirdi Saibaba, Afro haired saibaba, Pashupatinath, Durga, and a big ‘OM’. The third wall had a Nepali Calendar hung neatly, a clock and a poster that printed Gayatri mantra in large letters. For some reason there was also a maadal hung on the same wall. I stared at it for a moment, not sure what its significance was. Prior to reading my palm, guruji had asked me the name given to me during nwaran. “Dambar” I had replied hesitantly. There were only few people who knew that secret name, including an evil cousin who always threatened to disclose it to my friends. “Karkat!” Guruji exclaimed. “Do you know I am Karkat Rashi as well?” I silently prayed for apocalypse, the last thing I wanted at that moment was something common between me and that so called guru. I made a bleak effort to smile. “You seem like a hard worker, a result oriented person, but you need to relax sometimes you know, and enjoy yourself.” I rolled my eyes in frustration. I was sure he told that to everyone who visited his office, including Nalini maiju’s youngest brother who took more than a decade to be a chartered accountant. Guruji finally let go of my hand after caressing it for ten minutes. I was not sure what he enjoyed more, reading the lines or feeling my hands? It was not soft by any means. I was suddenly embarrassed, it had been a long time since a male had held my hands, as school kids in lower elementary, my friends and I had held our hands frequently; we didn’t know anything about homosexuality then. Heck, at that age, we barely knew of heterosexuality either.  I thanked my stars silently that my homophobic friends back in America weren’t present to witness it. ‘Hand Fetish’ - Michael would have cried out loud. Someone would have even made a video and posted it in YouTube, the comments that ensued would have been harrowing. “ I have one small request guruji”  Nalini maiju interrupted as guru  was finishing up with me. “ My younger daughter….”, she whispered, pointing towards Pallavi who was busy playing with her ipod, “….talks to this guy from Dhumbarahi over her cell phone all the time, sometimes half the night.” “Is there any way you can help her get rid of his thoughts?” She added biting her lips. “He is of a lower caste” Guruji smiled and walked towards a small steel cabinet. Moments later he came with a small charm and handed it over to my aunt. “This is a holy charm” he said as I watched them both in disbelief. “You need to tie this to her right arm and ensure she never takes it off, her thoughts about that boy will soon disappear” “I don’t believe this, does this even work?” I almost yelled in disgust. “Of course it does” snapped maiju “these charms bring in peace and prosperity in life, maybe you should take one to America” I was almost going to accuse both of them for racism, but the impact would have been minimal. The fact was, no matter how proud I was of my magnanimity and fairness; I was still intertwined in the labyrinth of prejudice that was prevalent in my family. I knew my parents were well above that, but outside the perimeter of my immediate family laid a vast expanse of hatred and bigotry. I walked outside abruptly, climbed down the stairwell and lit a cigarette. Pallavi had followed me. “What happened dada?” “Nothing, I just didn’t feel comfortable there” What would I tell her? That her mom was acting like a freaking step-mom in fairly tales? “You could have at least said goodbye babu”, Nalini maiju who was visibly upset with me later told me as we were driving back home in a cab. “Guruji seemed so fond of you” “I know, I saw that when he was caressing my hand” I replied tersely. “Maiju, he didn’t even know I was visiting from America, he got his first clairvoyance incorrect, I can’t believe you believe in him” I looked away. We were all silent until we reached home. I saw Nalini maiju briefly on the day I was returning to United States. She had purchased a pair of mailposh suruwal as a souvenir for me. I was not wearing it. In fact I had never worn that outfit except once at my cousin’s wedding. It was so ill fitting; I was on my feet the entire ceremony.  I would gladly donate it to the Salvation Army and totally confound the recipient whoever he/she was. The thought made me laugh. She also handed me over a Dhaka cholo for my wife. I debated if she was ever going to wear it. It was not until few weeks after I reached United States Nalini maiju was a subject in our conversation. The subject matter was extremely amusing. “ You don’t want to hear this…..” My mother started laughing hysterically the moment I saw her in skype. Kusum, a 14 year old girl who did chores for us and was no less than a daughter to my parents hid her face in her hands and was laughing as well. “Please don’t tell me you guys recently saw ‘The Hangover’” I joked. “Dada….you know that guruji? The one Nalini maiju took you to?” Kusum asked between laughs, her eyes were wet. Apparently they had been laughing long before I connected the skype. “Yeah, what happened? “He asked Nailini Maiju if you were interested in marrying his niece.”

behoove_me · Apr 23, 2012 3:21 PM · 13,163 views

10 Replies

Nice one behoove_me... thoroughly enjoyed it!

yacc · Apr 23, 2012 3:39 PM

Good writing as always! However, contrary to your previous stories, it was a little too..hmm what's the word... patronizing!

snurp · Apr 23, 2012 3:57 PM

Thank you Yacc and snurp. I am obliged. You brought in an excellent point snurp. As I read through it again and again, it does sound a little patronizing (despite an underlying humor) even though the last thing I'd want is to come across as a pompous individual. However, as I delved a litle deep into it, the only reason behind it could be the subject matter - inane faith and racism. I wish I could handle such sensitive subjects with a little more generosity. As you see, I am still on a learning curve.

behoove_me · Apr 23, 2012 4:14 PM

Haha. One pandit told my mom I would never leave Nepal and have a kid by 20. We still laugh about it.

halo · Apr 23, 2012 4:26 PM

PS: enjoyed the read.

halo · Apr 24, 2012 12:59 PM

Khas mann parena......Jhyau lagera aayo. Compared to other stories, i'd give 1/5. Nothing interesting in the story. I had liked your previous stories.

guy_tensed · Apr 24, 2012 1:48 PM

I just have one word for your words: Mesmerizing To me, you have finally outdone Empire State of Teej.  Something that caught my eye:  "There was a time she was a devout worshipper of Ganeshji and walked all the way to Kamaladi Ganesh from Bishalnagar even during bandh, where no vehicles were allowed to operate." Did she always used to walk there or only during bandh?  I think 'when' should replace 'where'.  Sorry for being a grammar Nazi but I'm no match for the Allied Forces of your writing.

jay-z · Apr 24, 2012 4:50 PM

Halo, Thank you for reading. I, by no means, am trying to undermine the skills of astrologers, but lately, their talent has been highly commercialized, thanks to hordes of followers who consider them demigods. Also, taking into account what that jyotishi told you, I have heard worse. :) guy_tensed, Unlike my other stories which were based on internet love, breakup, childhood crush, travel and ghost story, this was a little bit off the 'spicy subject' so there's no wonder this read did not catch eyes instantly. But as far as the flow and brevity is concerned, I am moderately satisfied. 1/5 is a lot better than none at all isn't it, so I take that as a compliment. Thanks for visiting. Jay, You revived this post when it was losing all its steam. And thank you for the grammar correction, I will make a note of that. I wish I always had an extra fresh pair of eyes to look over my posts once again. Also, scrutinizing my posts explains how intensely you care to read everything I post. I am extremely grateful.

behoove_me · Apr 25, 2012 9:58 AM

 Behoove, it was a good read but too short and abrupt ending.  As always, keep writing !!

bhakte dai · Apr 25, 2012 10:28 AM

Behoove_Me, I think you misunderstood me. I enjoy your writings -- both the content and the style. The writings are a breath of fresh air in sajha these days devoid of any meaningful threads. I look forward to your stories. The fact that you worry about touching on sensitive subjects, worrying about  the commentators viewpoints, and how you often regret and apologize for every little mistake is the kind of essence I find patronizing. You wrote a story. You have your viewpoint. Why do you need to apologize to anyone?  Why don't you just write how you want to write? And write them often :).

snurp · Apr 25, 2012 10:29 AM

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