The only thing feminine in “luck” is its fickle nature.
The
down-on-his-luck (so he said) builder came to me through a mutual
friend, clutching his tattered horoscope. My reputation as a seer was
not built on the “says what you want to hear” charm of Asterix’s
soothsayer, nor on the absurd serendipity of that old Persian tale where
everything a false prophet uttered came true, a story recycled across
countless Asian folklore. It exists only because of yarns spread by
people like the friend who brought him, who once laughed that the
builder had already consulted 5,000+ astrologers and tantrics.
“What’s
your bloody problem?” I growled, looking at his smudged, dog-eared,
cello-tape-stitched astro roadmap. “You have more than enough money,
your family is healthy, your children are doing fine, and the only one
straying is you.”
I
knew him from college. Back then, he was the least likely man to end up
driving a three-pointed-star car. Just a tall, fair chap who loved
gossip.
“I’ve been racking up losses no matter what I do these past few years,” he complained miserably.
“You
had an insane run of luck for eighteen years. Now that cycle is over.
The old template won’t work any more,” I said, glancing at the app
where I had entered his birth data, refusing to touch his grimy
parchment. “And since you were spoiled by easy profits during the real
estate boom, I’m sure you shut down every new venture within a year of
not seeing returns.”
“How did you know that?” he asked, startled. It was psychology, not astrology, and it landed too close to home.
“Will things improve?” he still asked, hopefully.
“Hardly,”
I replied. “You’ll remain well off. But the only area where you might
succeed now is work connected to education, institutions, or public
welfare.” Now fuck off and you owe me a drink.
The
last I heard, he was still hunting for cheap land to make a quick buck,
banking on endless “Vikas” projects. As for academics, whether due to
my advice or not, he bought himself a PhD from a diploma mill, spending a
few lakhs, and now styles himself as a Doctorate of Balls Bridge
University. He even got our college alumni association to felicitate him
for his doctorate, naturally footing the tea and snacks bill.
“Brother,
you never know when luck favours you,” explained a young friend from
Manipur. His family being the only sports archery equipment makers in
the state. “We were just invited to an exhibition for Modiji’s birthday.
The CM saw our range, was impressed, called us to his office, and
personally offered a significant amount to help us build a proper
factory and scale up production. He said we were making the state
proud.”
I
recalled my own brief encounter with my state’s Chief Minister at
“Advantage Assam” who, upon spotting me, first exclaimed, “Oh, you…”
then smoothly recovered and said, “I will personally come to your site
and speak to you.”
He sprinted away dodging the next four or five stalls, least I followed him...
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