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Published: September 19th 2006
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If you’re in New Delhi and you’re looking for a good cup of coffee you can head to Block H in Connaught Place, an inner part of Delhi with radiating circular roads. And if you want some good, cheap dal, vegetables and rice before your coffee, set back in a corner just before the coffee shop is a tiny food shop. The dining area is anywhere you can stand on the sidewalk. And after you finish you might just be approached by a large turbaned man who will start a conversation - the usual stuff, where are you from, how do you like India, etc. etc.
And even though he may be approximately the 454th person to ask these very same questions of you, it might be worth your time to sit down and talk a little longer with him. That’s just what I did on July 13 and I’m still amazed by our conversation. For after a minute or so of conversation, he invites me too sit down on a low wicker stool and offers to tell my fortune. After a quick glance at the front door of the coffeeshop (so close, but so far), I sit down and we begin.
My fortune teller is a large, middle aged Punjabi. He has very brown skin, a long thin nose, a dark beard and moustache, white teeth and droopy eyes with dark brown bags under them, as if all the fortunes and fates he has seen have accumulated here. He is wearing a black turban, a long dark blue shirt, white pants and black shoes. His English is good with a slight accent, and he rushes his words sometimes, but other than this he has a very calm, peaceful manner.
After a few innocuous questions he tells me that he can tell me about aspects of my future and then pulls out a small blank piece of paper and a pencil from an old brown leather folder. He opens this folder more times during our conversation, and I come to see that it is absolutely stuffed full with papers, pamphlets, photographs, money and pencils. He asks me to pick a number between 1 and 10 so I naturally pick my lucky number 8. So he writes 8 and then in front of that 7 and then in front of that 6. He then tells me that 8 is the future, 6 is the past, and 7 is the present. So he isolates 7, asks me some rather basic innocuous questions.
And then looks at my right palm. My life line, apparently, is quite happy and my love line looks okay but will get stronger in time. He jots down some information from this on to the paper with the 6, 7, and 8. He then asks a series of questions, many of them kind of on the personal side (How many women have you slept with? When was the last time you had sex?) and adds more information to his paper. I still don’t know if the sexual questions were truly relevant or if this is how he gets his kicks before getting down to business.
Twice during the conversation he brings up the number three and says it symbolizes that he, God and I are witnesses that what the fortune teller is saying is the truth. After each discourse on the number three, as he’s writing down some information on a new piece of paper, he asks me to write down my answer to a simple question. First my favorite color (blue), then to name a piece of fruit (apple). After each time he flips over his paper to show the words “blue” and “apple”. Now that’s pretty good entertainment, and a cynic could say that I would probably say blue because he was wearing a blue shirt, or apples because…well, I don’t know what could have subliminally made me say apple (I was burping dal and thinking about coffee). But each demonstration is designed to encourage my confidence in his abilities.
And then we get down to business. He asks me to write down the answers to the following questions:
What is my mother’s name?
What is my birthday?
What is my wish?
When do I want to be married?
How many brothers and sisters do I have?
What is the name of the woman who broke my heart?
Now, I would bet that there are no more than five people in the whole world who know the answers to all of those questions, but this man did and he wrote them on his own piece of paper at the same time. My mother’s name (Rhoda) is quite rare even in the States and in India it must be rarer then Eskimos. Other travelers had consistently been guessing my age to be between 25 and 35 (how flattering!) but my fortune teller knew not only my correct age but also the correct date from perhaps 4000 possible answers. I still think the questions about wish and marriage are the most impressive, because they’re not fact-based but rather objects of my fancy. I could have wished for the best cup of coffee ever or for the Chicago Cubs to win the World Series, and as for marriage I was stumped myself and only after a couple of minutes did I manage to write “2008”, and this only because I thought my travels would be over by then. The brothers and sisters question is equally impressive, because with families with five siblings not uncommon in the West, a statistician could tell you the odds of predicting the exact number and gender of siblings is quite high. And as for the woman who broke my heart - what the hell? How could he possibly know that?
And then he proceeded to tell me my fortune:
My luck would change for the better around October 27 (I thought my luck was pretty good already, but better is better)
All my life I have worked hard but haven’t earned much money (amen to that, brother) but soon I will start to make much more money than I ever have (I could have kissed the man)
On or around Christmas of this year I will meet my wife. Her name is Eliza, one of her parents is American the other Australian, she is blond, pretty with “pink lips” and smart. We will be married in 2008 and after three years will settle in Australia with three children. (This was the most welcome news of all - only four or five more months of outright rejection by women and then all of the humiliation, mocking laughter and threats to call the police would be over. I just wanted to rent a beach chair right then and there and wait for ol’ Saint Nick).
I will live to a ripe old age, at least to 89.
I need to watch out for a man named Peter. He wants to go into business with me but he means me only harm and I should avoid him at all costs.
At the end I went to an ATM and happily paid him 1400 rupees ($35). Again, a cynic might say that I was swindled, a fool and his money are soon parted, etc. But then cynics are notoriously short on answers, and I still would really like to know how he knew all that he knew. If nothing else, my Punjabi fortune teller was extremely good at what he does, and I figure an expert craftsman such as himself who flawlessly performs his profession should be compensated accordingly.
After we parted I went into the coffee shop and ordered an Americano and chocolate muffin, and the sweetness of the muffin and the bitter coffee complemented each other so well it made me wonder just what else is out there that can work so well together to produce such wonderful results.
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Scott
non-member comment
Fortune Teller
Doug, First of all, you should be more cautious of who you drink with the night before you have your fortune read, its probably OK to remove your tags sewn into your clothes with your name, birthdate and if found call Rhoda, and you need to quit complaining about your one brother!