Pages from my Grey Cat & Red Rose Journal (14)
Ivy and the Astrologer!
It was that toxic year of upsets and upheavals when luckily a small grey cat from the streets came to stay with me when two little girls scooped her up. They saved her from the dangerous dogs on the roads, and brought her to my house.
Ivy the cat, grey as a lovely Rex Begonia, settled down nicely, spending endless hours sleeping near the dark green ferns, eating up the lemon grass and the spider plants, almost as gleefully as catnip, and minding her own business. Sometimes she minded mine as well, when she thought I needed her company.
I became very disturbed about an aunt that year who had lost her daughter in a sudden and horrible accident. Being very religious and naïve she began to visit too many astrologers to get their opinions and their advice, about her losses. Neighbours, friends and family added to this foolishness by telling her that perhaps it was her fault, that she lost her daughter.
She spent ridiculous amounts of money to these psychics and mediums and astrologers. She also ignored her younger daughter as she wallowed in her grief and let astrologers gobble up her money. Finally, when she came one day to visit me, I told her to do one thing for me.
I urged her to take all the details about her daughter, her age, her birth certificate, her school and college certificate, photo etc. and whatever else the astrologer usually asks for, to the City’s most expensive medium. He was sought after by the Chief Minister himself, as well as all the richest business men, politicians, movie stars etc.
Then I told her not to tell him that her daughter was dead and to ask him to give a reading about her future!
She was shocked and said she could not do it. But I begged her to try it out. I reminded her about the endlessly silly and fun things we had done in college, and to treat this like one of those adventures. So she did exactly that, paid up Rs. 5000 to the astrologer and was horrified when he gave her a reading for her dead daughter!
He assured her that her daughter had a golden future ahead of her and would marry a rich and powerful man, would have two girls and a boy, and would live to the age of 89!
After this melodrama she stopped all visits to mediums and psychics, and spent her money on happiness!
Ivy and I made another dish of Rose Rabadi (one small happy dessert) by watching Fargo, the television series which I had somehow missed out on! Billy Bob Thornton was astounding as the creepy, crawling fiend and not surprisingly, won at the Golden Globes for his sculduggery! The second season of Fargo fell flat because he was missing! But we caught up with him in Goliath where again he held us spellbound.
The roses in that decrepit year of losses, wooed us with their wealth of silent story telling. It filled up the gaps and the gashes with some kind of hope and we were glad we had got one woman out of the clutches of a grief vampire! Imagine how much she could have bought for Rs. 5000 she had paid up to the astrologer who had the most horrid, upsetting tiger skin hanging on the wall behind his wicked, lying face!