A Suitable Boy(662)

‘But such is Fate,’ said Mrs Rupa Mehra to herself; and this led to a thought which an advertisement in the next morning’s Brahmpur Chronicle translated into action. For there she noticed, under the heading ‘Astrologer-Royal: Raj Jyotishi’, the photograph of a plump and beaming middle-aged man, his hair cut short and parted in the middle. Underneath were the words:

The greatest Astrologer, Palmist and Tantrik. Pandit Kanti Prasad Chaturvedi, Jyotishtirtha, Tantrikacharya, Examiner, Government Board of Astrological Studies. Highly praised and honoured with unwanted testimonials. Very speedy results.



Very speedily – in fact the same afternoon – Mrs Rupa Mehra made her way to the Astrologer-Royal. He was unhappy that she knew only the place and date of Haresh’s birth, not the exact time of day. But he promised to see what he could do. It would require certain extra assumptions, certain extra calculations, and even the use of the adjustment factor of Uranus, which was not standard in Indian astrology; and the use of Uranus was not costless. Mrs Rupa Mehra paid up and he told her to return two days later.

She felt quite guilty about these proceedings. After all, as she had complained to Lata when Mrs Mahesh Kapoor had asked for Savita’s horoscope: ‘I don’t believe in all this matching. If it had been true, my husband and I…’ But now she told herself that perhaps the fault lay in the lack of skill of particular astrologers, not in the science itself. And the Astrologer-Royal had been very persuasive. He had explained why her gold wedding ring would ‘reinforce and concentrate the power of Jupiter’; he had advised her to wear a garnet because it would control the ecliptic node of Rahu and confer mental peace; he had praised her wisdom, which was patent to him from both her palm and her expression; and a large silver-framed photograph on his desk, facing clientwards, showed him shaking hands with the Governor himself.

When they next met, the Astrologer-Royal said: ‘You see, in this man’s seventh house, the Jupiter is aspected by Mars. The whole impression is yellow and red, which in combination you may consider to be orange or golden, therefore his wife will be very beautiful. Then you see, the moon is surrounded by lots of planets, that is also a sign of the same thing. But the seventh house has Aries in it, who is very stubborn, and Jupiter, who is strong, which will enhance the stubbornness. So therefore he will marry a beautiful but difficult woman. Is your daughter such a one?’

Mrs Rupa Mehra thought about the matter for a few seconds, then, hoping for better luck elsewhere, said: ‘But what about all the other houses?’

‘The seventh house is the House of the Wife.’

‘But are there no problems at all? In the matching of the two horoscopes, I mean?’ His eyes were very piercing, and she was forced to concentrate on the middle parting in his hair.

The Astrologer-Royal looked at her for a few seconds, smiling speculatively, then said: ‘Yes, certain problems surely exist. I have examined the totality of the picture, taking into consideration the information of both your daughter and the Prospective. It is quite problematical, I would say. Kindly come and collect the problematical details this evening. I will write them down.’

‘And Uranus?’ asked Mrs Rupa Mehra. ‘What does Uranus say?’

‘The effect did not prove to be significant,’ said the Astrologer-Royal. ‘But of course the calculations had to be made anyway,’ he added hastily.





18.7


AS THEY ENTERED the Haridas College of Music together, Malati’s friend said: ‘Well, there have been no more sightings of the quarry. But if there are, I’ll keep you informed.’

‘What are you gabbling about?’ asked Malati. ‘I hope we’re not too late.’ Ustad Majeed Khan was in an impatient mood these days.

‘Oh, you know, the woman he met at the Blue Danube.’

‘Who met?’

‘Kabir, of course.’

Malati stopped and turned towards her friend: ‘But you said the Red Fox.’

Her friend shrugged. ‘Did I? I might have. It’s quite confusing. But what difference does it make whether you shoot someone in Chowk or in Misri Mandi…? What’s the matter with you?’

For Malati had seized her friend’s arm; her face had gone white. ‘What was this woman like? What was she wearing?’ she asked.

‘Amazing! You didn’t want to know anything then, but now –’

‘Tell me. Quickly.’

‘Well, I wasn’t there, but this girl Purnima – I don’t think you know her, she’s from Patna and she’s doing history – it was she who noticed them. She was sitting a few tables away, though, and you know what it’s like with these dimmed lights –’