Occult Science: A Personal View

There have been times when i have been mesmerised by the limited exposure both direct and indirect i had with the occult sciences. Commendable among them has been the experience of Nadi Jyotisham. With nothing more than one's thumb impression, the interpreter reads leaves and tells everything from one's date of birth, time of birth, name, parent's names, no.of sisters, name of spouse (even before you get married), which is quite extra ordinary.


Ancient sages are believed to have had the divine power to look into the future and write down life stories of people to be born thousands of years later, with utmost precision. Nadi Jyotisham was a revelation, if nothing more. The interpretor even wrote down my horoscrope copied from the leaves and handed over to me. This happened in Ahmedabad. Few months later when i went to Bangalore, i carried this horoscope and matched it with my horoscope at home. The two were exactly the same.

The world renowned palmist Cheiro was famous for predicting with utmost precision. He would tell on the face of his clients at what age they would face their end. Once he told one of his clients that he would live up to such and such age. When the client had attained the said age, he accidently got to meet cheiro. The client said to Cheiro that he had just attained the said age and still was alive and in perfect health. Cheiro replied that he was so happy to see him alive and sincerely wished his prediction was wrong. That was not to be, as within a few days he died in an accident, though he was in perfect health.

Another Palmist whose prediction was the toughest to pronounce was made by a street palmist. My dad had called him home on my pressing him, as i like the way of rendition of the palmists. Among a flurry of his verifiable claims was when he said my dad would never be able to conduct the last rites of his mom. I felt it would have been safe for him to say that my dad wouldnt be by his mother's bedside when she died, but he could tell with conviction that he couldnt even conduct her last rites. That was a fact, and i felt great respect for the street palmist. (My grandmother went missing while walking, never to return back. She had memory troubles & suspected Alzhiemer's).

Drowning Cousins

While i was a small kid, we were at our ancestral house in Thrissur, Kerala. It had rained one day and water had filled up every depression on the ground. I had learnt to walk may be a few months before. My mummy had left me in the room and got engaged in the kitchen. After sometime she wanted to check on me and came to the hall. I wasnt there. She came out of our house and started looking outside, but not a trace of me.

Anxiety was raising high for my mom, and she kept searching for me and calling out my name. Suddenly she could find a head popping out of a small pit full of water. It was a pit dug for planting palm sapling, deep enough to drown a kid of my size. She quickly ran towards me and yanked me out of the water. It was a huge sigh of relief to her to see me and alive too. I recovered without any medical intervention, and survived to tell this story because of sheer luck as she spotted me before it was too late.

The second incident of similar nature was to happen after a decade, to my cousin. His name is Sooraj, the only son of my mom's youngest sister. My cousin's house had a pond of their own, though at a distance. While my aunt was busy in her household chore, the kid had managed to reach the pond and duck into it. There was quite a commotion near the pond and my aunt rushed out fearing the worst. As she ran towards the pond where the ruckus originated, she could spot her child struggling in the water. She jumped right away and brought the kid out of danger.

Two lives were saved. Timing was the key in both the incidents, along with God's forbearance.

My First Interview

Many of my new friends wouldnt know that i wasnt interested in studies throughout my life. Going to school, attending classes were all good fun for sure. Whereas sitting and studying always proved to be my cup of woes. I disliked the discipline required of a student, while always being carefree in everything that i did.

A day came when i finished my schooling. The marks procured werent impressive, though i got a first class as i always did. My dad wanted the best for me, like all parents would, whereas my marksheet defeated his ambitions. He asked me what subjects interested me? Can u guess what i answered. I think u got it right, i said "NONE". He was shocked to his bone. Later he thought doing a diploma at the best polytechnic will atleast fetch me a job. Pursuing to get admission from the No.1 government polytechnic of Bangalore wasnt easy. In the end, i lost an year after all the guarantees provided, i wont blame anyone though.

Ofcourse i didnt want to sit idle now and thought of going for a job. After seeing an ad for a job with the Taj Group of Hotels i applied for the post as Apprentice in Airconditioning and Refrigeration. The training was to be provided by the Taj group itself for everyone who cleared the tests. The written tests were quite easy to say the least. After this, two interviews were planned for the candidates who cleared the test.

Round one of the Interview was a breeze. Round two by another senior in the company was also good and within an hour the results were out and i was among the selected few. Suddenly a senior manager there came out of nowhere and wished to interview the selected candidates. I was the No.1 in the list. With absolutely no tension or anxiety i went into his chamber.

The new interviewer wanted to test the true worth of the candidates. He started asking me questions to check my general knowledge and current affairs, which wasnt actually required for this job. I kept satiating his quest adequately enough. It was now more than 20 mins into the interview and he was getting frustrated because i never said i didnt know a answer to his question. He pressed on with more and more questions, and i started enjoying the process, always answering bang on target.

Forty minutes into the interview, i could see his face tensed up and in a sense of bewilderment. I actually failed to answer his last question after 40 minutes. The question was "Do you know the meaning of OORGOLAM". I said i dont know, and atlast i could see a great relief in his face. He explained to me that "Oorgolam" means procession in Tamil. And thus ended my interview.

I didnt get the job there, but for another reason altogether.

Shyla P Rao: A Golden Friend

Shyla is a good friend of mine since 8 years. I can sing paeans for her for hours without a difficulty. Today being her birthday, its an opportunity for me to acknowledge here, the greatest respect she has commanded from me. Getting under her skin is such a tough job, for i know for sure even her closest friends find her just plain, good and simple.


Among all my lady friends the genuineness in shyla cant be matched. With time and distance the depth of a relationship gets a beating, as experienced in our lives. Out of sight is out of mind: This just doesnt apply to my friend Shyla. A whole box of adjectives will fall short for her, but one word that describes her best could be "Considerate". One tends to enjoy her considerateness and will generally never bother to understand her inside out.


I feel so lucky to have gotten an opportunity to befriend Shyla. She is happily married now. Also going to be a mother soon. Though currently in the States, Shyla and her hubby Srikkanth will be coming to India soon and settling down. Even after her marriage she has kept her commitment as a friend to always keep in touch and be available. My salute to her spirit of friendship. Blessed are the ones associated with her. May God give her happiness everyday of her life.

A Date with Speed

Day-1: During one of my journeys Delhi was in my way and i thought of meeting my best friend who lived there. When i met my friend, we both had a lot of catching up to do with the events in our life. The chat continued till night and we decided to take a break at around 3 am, but not by hitting bed. He suggested we go out for a ride on his bike at that unearthly hour, and nodding was the fastest thing i did. We returned back after a couple of hours and slept off.

Day-2: All horrible action was to take place on this day of my stay in Delhi. After some hours of sleep we got up and thought of having our lunch at a Dhaba nearby. As I and my best friend were talking in the early evening, another friend joined us. His nature was unpredictable, in the sense that he would be so very loving and sometimes quite mercurial too. This new entrant wanted us to chat for long and promised to drop me to the railway station in his bike. I would realise later how big a mistake i did by accepting his offer.

The train in which i had my reservation was at 9.30pm and i started from rajokri (Delhi) with the mercurial friend in his bike at 8.45pm. I was sure the train is going to be missed. My friend rode the bike fast and furious, quite recklessly i should say. For everytime i said him to slowdown, he only increased the speed of the bike and the rashness in driving. My heart was in my mouth many a times and i had atleast 3 near death experiences before we reached the destination.

When i reached the railwaystation it was 9.25pm. I started running without even talking to my friend, though he followed. When i was above the foot over bridge, i could see my train already moving on the platform. Like a man possessed i ran with my suitcase down the stairs. Though now i was on the platform, the train was quite fast. I started running alongside the train to match its speed. When a gut feeling said that i could try hopping in, i jumped with all my strength.

I found myself inside the train without any harm. I felt like a fool for firstly catching the train in this fashion, and also for not starting early from rajokri. Secondly i felt like an idiot for having trusted this friend, when there wasnt time in hand. It took a long time for me to forgive myself.
Some 3 yrs back i got to know that the friend who dropped me to station many years back had succumbed to Lung Cancer after a long period in hospital.

Me, me and me.

Yesterday i went online and for the first time ever I checked anybody's blog. This one belonged to a 20s something girl of kerala, a daughter of an IAS mother. Though i only had a fleeting look at two of her posts, everything in the blog was me, me and me. I had read in this month's issue of Reader's Digest about sexting, and thats where i read about blogs being always about oneself, and my heading borrowed from there.

This is actually true, because there isnt much one could write in a blog. One of my colleagues asked me yesterday what is the funda of a blog and its meaning. I explained it to him that this word is taken from two words, i.e. WEB LOG. The 'B' from the first word and the second word in full. I also told him this generally constitutes a personal diary open to everyone. The more masala in it, the more readers it will attract. A seeming reason why my blog is not attracting enviable number of readers.

There are so many stories i can tell here, but the contents may not be palatable to all age groups and hence iam diligent about the contents of my blog. I firmly try to draw a line as to how far i can go with the juicy factor in every post of mine. In a talk show i saw last year on a national channel, the subject was about blogging. There were many bloggers in the talk show and few sentences from one or two posts of the bloggers were read out. With the kind of things they were writing, it was not surprising they had hundreds & thousands of readers.

The popularity of a blog is proportional to how far one is ready to bare it all, in public. A sure shot way to attract maximum eyeballs to one's blog is by posting anything that would be off the beaten track.

Exploits of Mechanic Murthy

Mr. Murthy is a kannadiga & a mechanic by profession, having his own two-wheeler workshop. Some strange quirk of fate got this wonderful person associated with us for a long time, during my growing years. His life was a story of struggle and rebellion. He had discontinued his studies in the primary school itself. He had run away from home for whatever reasons best known to him, though after many years he joined back his family.

Life had made him tough physically. He stood at a mere 5 feet 6 inches, but his courage touched the sky and his affection touched everyone's heart. He got so besotted with being associated to our family, that he would make it a point to come to our home almost every 2nd or 3rd day and sit for hours talking about anything and everything. His love for english led him to learn that language over the years and he would comfortably read english newspapers and feel proud about having understood most of it.

Being a mechanic, he was interested in riding fast and performing tricks. His love for speed even got him enrolled for races of 250cc bikes, and had got some podium finishes too at the local level. Wheelie and other tricks were his forte, though i got the opportunity to witness only one. Once during his visits to our home, we were very interested in hearing his stories and one of us asked him if he can really demonstrate what he just spoke. He agreed.

We all came out of our house and waited for Mr. Murthy to do some trick with his bike. He sat on his yezdi bike and dropped a one rupee coin to his left side. He said he could pick that coin by his mouth, while he was circling around it. None of us thought it possible, but his trick was so fast and he achieved what he said, but with a lot of mud in his mouth. My parents, myself and my sisters were mesmerised with his show.

On another occassion his courage got his story in the local newspapers. He went to the bank one day to deposit 10,000/- rupees. While he was standing in the queue, there were 2 Iranians who were quite lanky & strong who snatched the money from his hands and ran out. For their bad luck they had chosen the wrong person. May be they were fooled in by his average height. Murthy anna chased the duo for some distance and when they knew they couldnt keep pace, they split into different ways. Murthy anna chased the guy who was having the money, and atlast caught up with him. Though his adversary was more than 6 feet tall, he fought him quite valiantly and punched till he was knocked out. He then carried the Iranian on his shoulders and walked more than a kilometer to the Police Station and dumped him on the table of the Sub-Inspector and narrated the story.

His courage was appreciated by the police and his story appeared in the vernacular papers of Bangalore. Unluckily when we changed our residence, we couldnt intimate him about our changed address as he didnt have a phone number. We too didnt know his new workshop, and hence lost touch with him. I have thought of finding this person when i have enough time in hand, while in bangalore. Cant lose out on such a lovely soul.