Short Story- The Lines of Destiny

Ten years!! What a lot changes in ten years! It was the re-union of the class of ’93—and what a gathering it was! Familiar faces, yet unfamiliar…the room resounded with exclamations:
“Is that you??? Oh you have changed so much…”
“What are you doing now? Really? Oh, that’s wonderful….”
“Do you remember…?”
“You mean you are…”
I stood at the entrance a minute, trying to locate someone I knew. A waving hand caught my attention. “Hey Renu!!” It was Smitha, my old roommate. I waved back, smiling, and walked towards her.
“Hey you haven’t changed a bit!! How are you doing? I haven’t heard from you since I got married”
“Great to see you, yaar! I’m fine…This is your husband?”
“Oops, I forgot the introductions. Meet my husband Raj. Raj, this is Renu, our once-upon-a-time hostel astrologer and palmist. And Renu, these are Anu and Shruthi—the two boys you predicted I would have!!” Smitha laughed. I blushed as I looked down at an adorable pair of twin girls.
“Do you still read palms?”
I shook my head. “Not after what happened with Reshma”.
“Reshma…Our Miss Old Fashioned? What happened with her?” Smitha asked.
“Didn’t you hear?”

*******************
It was during my graduation that I really gained a reputation as an amateur Palmist. Astrology was one of my loves—I was still in school when my cousin had gifted me “Chiero’s Book of Astrology and Palmistry”—and from that day, I had been hooked.
”Astrology”, he had told me,” is a valuable hobby. Go into any gathering and mention casually that you can read palms—and every hand in the room will be placed before you. It is a great way to get to know people.”

I had found that he was right.

Half believing, half laughing at the whole concept, armed with a smattering of Chiero and some lesser known palmists, I had become a rather popular amateur.

In the hostel, I charged a bon-bon or some similar tidbit for consultation: I operated on the condition that my “clients” did not really take me seriously; that it was just an interesting form of entertainment; that I did not believe in it, and neither must they. And on this condition, many classmates and hostel mates got a candy worth of predictions that my head could conjure with the criss-crosses on their palms. I was as faithful to my guidebooks as my memory permitted, and it gave all of us many hours of fun.

Reshma was a classmate, and one of my good friends. From a high-class once-royal family, she was to us, the epitome of traditionalism. Her caste, especially her family, still retained the remnants of aristocracy and the caste system—they practiced their traditions religiously and protected their way of life with a zeal that bordered on obsession. They never married outside their caste, and when an odd rebellious youngster challenged their ways, he was declared an outcaste, and disowned by community and family alike. And what a scandal there was! It was considered an eternal blot upon the family honour, and all future generations burdened with the shame of this betrayal of caste and birth.

Reshma loyally defended their ways and practiced them; and landed the nickname of Miss Old Fashioned. She accepted the nickname with a smile, and a shrug. “It’s part of who I am, and I cant change that”, she used to say. While we sported the modern jeans and wore our short-tops, she stuck valiantly to her half sari, declaring that her grandmother, “Lakshmikuttiamma Thamburatti”, the head of her matriarchal family and the reigning Princess of the county, would die of shock if she ever caught her wearing jeans. She woke up in the wee hours of dawn while we were still snoring away, to perform her ablutions and morning prayers. And she regaled us with tales of her home, a old-fashioned palace, and the ceremonies and rituals of royalty. And we always listened in fascinated interest.

“My turn!” She stretched her palm towards me , one evening in my room as I was busy playing astrologer, while my roommates acted as my assistants, collecting my chocolate fee and distributing them around.

“My daughter, place your dakshina upon my palm”, I replied in my best manner.

She giggled at my accent and places a bar of chocolate in my hand. I passed it to my roommates and bade her sit down.

“Well daughter …Hmmm…” I frowned and examined her palm. “Unusual success will mark your way, my dear. Fate smiles kindly upon you. I foresee a career reaching positions of authority and power.” I traced her Fate line meditatively. “Hmm…Unusually gifted. Long life…You will live to see your granddaughter’s marriage”, I told her as she giggled again.

“Not grandson’s?” she pouted in mock sadness.

“Hmmm, what an unusual Heart-line...!” I said. It was an unusual line. “Daughter, it is written here that you will have a love marriage—hmmm….strange, strange indeed. I see signs of an elopement and great opposition from your family…”

She pulled her hand away and gave me a friendly push. “Stop pulling my leg, Renu. You know that’s impossible! Me? A love marriage? Say something believable! We don’t even get to see the people we marry…!! And you expect your Miss old-Fashioned to find someone to elope with?” she laughed.

“But my daughter!” I said with mock seriousness, “It is—what shall I say—your Destiny! It has been written by Fate upon your hand!!”

She hit me over the head with a pillow.

Many months later, towards the end of our graduation, someone jerked me awake in the middle of the night and shone a night lamp into my groggy eyes.

“Hey Renu, get up!!” a voice whispered urgently. I blinked crazily and squinted, trying to get my thoughts together. It was Reshma. She had a worried frown and looked like she hadn’t slept at all.

“Read my palm!”, she said, holding out her hand.

“ Are you out of your mind? What time is it?” I asked, astounded.

“It’s about half past two in the morning.” She sat down on the bed by my side. “Please, Renu. I’m serious. Read my palm!”

“Reshma, this is crazy. What do you want with that crap at this hour?” I asked, shaking my head in disbelief.

“Never mind that. Please….” she begged.

“It’s not real, you know that. I don’t know this seriously. What is with you?” I was getting worried. She was obviously dead serious. “And I have already read it—I don’t even know if I say the same things when I read it the second time!!“

“Yes—but I want you to read it again. Please, Renu…It’s important!”

I shook my head in amazement and gave in. I peered at her hand and told her the same stuff all over again. Fate line, Head line, Life line, Heart line. Long Marriage line, cut by a line from the mount of mercury. By-line joining the Fate line Cross on the mount of Jupiter. Trident of Neptune on the mount of Mercury. Success in life. Brilliant career. Great and passionate love. Parental opposition. Likely elopement.

She sighed heavily and sat back in her chair when I finished.

“Now, explain!” I demanded.

“For three hours after dinner, I was on the phone with my mother. She was convinced that I was about to elope with someone. She begged me not to bring her, Appa, and my sisters to shame. Try as I might, I had no success in convincing her that I had no such intentions…”

“Oh Heavens! What in the world gave her such an idea?” I asked, feeling absurdly like bursting into laughter as the image of Reshma eloping in her half-sari came to mind.

“Apparently, the new astrologer in town.”, she said with a wry smile. “Supposedly a very young man with a lot of divine power and the special blessing of the Goddess. My mother went to him with my horoscope to consult about my marriage.” She bit her lips and frowned. “Why I got you up in the middle of the night for was this. He told her, almost exactly, word for word”—she looked at me—“what you told me. And he said that it was -- inevitable Destiny!”

“That’s crap!!” I snapped. “It’s a silly co-incidence. You know I didn’t mean it.”

“I know only that my mother refuses to let me out of her sight now. She has ordered me to pack up and go home by the morning train. If I can convince her to let me come and write my exams, I will be lucky”

“But if you don’t, you won’t get the degree!!” I was aghast!!

“Well, as you would say, perhaps that too is my Destiny. Though I think the part about a brilliant career would have to be scrubbed out!!” Her tone was decidedly bitter.

.We did not see Reshma for the rest of the year. She did write her exams though, under the strict surveillance of her family. When I met her at the University, she told me her marriage had been fixed with a distant cousin sought out by her parents, a highly placed government official. She seemed to have no objection to the arrangement.

“At least the nightmare of their continual expectation of my elopement is over. And as far as I know, my fiancé seems a nice person.. We were not allowed to meet, of course, but I have spoken to him over the phone and he seemed OK” She smiled. “When I told him about my mother’s astrological scare, he laughed and said he did not believe in such things.”

“Are you happy?” I asked. She blinked. “I guess…”, she said, her tone non-committal.

“Well, you’ve beaten both Astrology and Palmistry. I hope your mother is happy now!” I laughed.

“She is still insisting that I got to that new astrologer and take his blessings and do some sort of Puja to pacify the Goddess for defying my Destiny…” she laughed. “Best to humor her, anyway, now that things have settled down. Do come for the wedding. It’s to be with only close family, so I am not inviting anyone else, but I do want you to come.”

I promised her I would be there.

And then, a week before the wedding day, came the news—to my shock and consternation—that she had disappeared…Eloped, leaving a note to explain that—Well, it was after all, Destiny!!

******************
“That killed my love of astrology” I concluded my tale. Smitha stared at me wide eyed.

“She actually eloped? Reshma? I can’t believe it!” She shook her head in amazement. “Who was the guy?”

I smiled.

“She… ran away with …er…the Astrologer.