The Fake Astrologer | Rathindra Nath Bhattacharjee

Not so long ago, I had to go to Trongsa High School for invigilation. On reaching my destination, I was directed to one of the less used staff quarters away from the administrative building for my stay during the Board Examinations. I found out, on my arrival at the quarter, that the other occupant was a familiar figure, one Mr. Roy from CHSS. I had met Mr. Roy, a senior teacher a couple of times earlier.

In the evening, I was introduced to Mr. James, another invigilator. A handsome, bearded man with broad shoulders, Mr. James was in his mid-twenties and younger than me. In the next few days while arranging the Halls, gluing the rolls on the desks and so on, I came to know Mr. James better and also learned that he was a very good chess player.

The first few days of the examinations went off without a hitch. The students of the school in the home centre behaved themselves quite well during the examinations. Let alone trying to copy or seek help from others, they were not even raising their heads, so engrossed they were in writing their papers.

On the third day as I was heading towards the main building, I was suddenly taken aback by a scene. Near the galleries of the Volleyball Ground, James, looking as dashing as ever, was standing, looking intently at the palm of an aged lady, surrounded by at least half a dozen of female invigilators come to Trongsa High School from other schools.

“Please, Sir, take a look at mine and tell me what my future holds for me,” I heard a pretty dame, sitting on one of the lower concrete steps, pleading to James stretching out her hand.

“Sir, be done with mine first. You were telling me about my boyfriend and my affairs …” chirped another charming belle to the accompaniment of an uproarious laughter from the others.

As I, no less an attractive man, kept walking, I was consumed with a vicious rage. How could they concern themselves with astrology just before the day’s exam was to begin? But more than that I was angry with the behaviour of those ladies. Some of them were leaning on James, sweet-talking, trying to grab his attention.

“I’m sure that man is a hoax. He doesn’t know the ABC of astrology and bluffing, just enjoying himself at the expense of these shameless teachers!” I said to myself as I proceeded to the MPH for the duties.

“Sir, you take care of the mid-row of desks while Madam Sunita is responsible for the row on the other side. Today there is no exam for Class-X in the afternoon.” Lopen Chencho, a Dzongkha Teacher informed me as I stepped in the hall.

Exam over, I was heading to our quarters when I found an English Textbook for XII, lying on a bench under a tree. Hardly had I picked it up trying to find out if the owner’s name was written anywhere when a girl in the school uniform, hurrying towards me, cried out :

“That’s my book, Sir.”

“How do you expect me to give it back to you? Your name is not written anywhere! Besides, how could you have forgotten and left your book like this?” I barked at her.

The girl looked crestfallen and teary-eyed.

“Give it back to her, Sir. Why would she ask for it if it wasn’t hers?”

It was that popular teacher James again, coming from behind to the girl’s rescue.

The girl took the proffered book and thanked me though melting at the sight of James all along!

That night, still seething, I invited James, when the latter turned up in our quarters for a game of chess. The first game was well-contested but finally he came up the winner.

“You know, Sir, I haven’t played chess for donkey’s years. Do you play chess often?” I asked him harshly while rearranging the board for another game. Unfortunately, I could never be gracious enough in defeat in my life.

The second game was won by James as well. Sitting up in his bed, Mr. Roy, who had been observing us play, remarked :

“Bhattacharjee Sir. Sorry to have to tell you this …. but you are no match for James Sir.”

James beamed at his words and was about to get up from the chair when I, sitting across, with the wooden board on the table between us, readied the board once more before muttering,

“Sir, let’s play one last game for tonight. Tomorrow is an offday, you know. So, it doesn’t matter even if we get up late.”

James sat back on the chair. This time, it took James just four moves, starting with the rook and ending with his queen placed in front of my King to exclaim :

“Checkmate, Sir.” He said quite casually as he started picking up and putting the pieces back in the plastic container.

I was livid. I looked at my hapless King. There was no place where I could move it from the threat posed by his Queen. This hoax of a teacher had been toying with me in the three rounds of chess, a game that I considered myself to be quite good at. And that was not all. He treated me like I was a novice!

“Sir, I have been totally out of practice. Besides, Dame Luck also has favoured you tonight.” Then, having noticed him getting up, ready to go back to his own quarter, I hastened to add,

“Oh! That reminds me, Sir. I saw you reading the palms of some pretty teachers this morning. Do you really know anything about Astrology?”

James broke into a broad smile while winking at Mr.Roy and replied jovially,”Not much, Sir. Just the basics only.”

I, who didn’t know anything about astrology and hated it as the few astrologers I had had the misfortune of coming across in life, made my life topsy-turvy with all their bogus predictions, couldn’t help remarking.

“I also know a thing or two about the subject.”

“Do you, Sir? Honest? Can you read mine?”

He asked me, with a glint in his eyes, putting his hand forward at the same time.

“I don’t read the palm. I foretell of the future by reading the forehead.”

“Good God! What a genius! Please tell me what you can from my forehead then.”

Was he being sarcastic or was my imagination playing tricks on me? I was still reeling under the straight forward defeats.

I took a minute or so before dropping a bomb in the form of a prediction. Even Mr. Roy, having heard my pronouncement, rubbed his eyes before fixing them on James.

“You’re already a married man, James and, what’s more, you’ve a child.”

There was a hushed silence in the room for the next few minutes before James could recover himself from the shock. But his stunned reaction at the prediction didn’t even go unnoticed by Mr. Roy. James, looking all lost, yet keeping his eyes on me, coughed up next :

“What else can you tell me about my future, Sir?”

As my eyes held his, his stupefied silence made it clear to me that I had hit the bull’s eye at the first go, which was a result of my extreme angst with James for trying to monkey with me, the female invigilators and for the ease with which he routed me at the chess board.

“Let that suffice for tonight, Sir. Let me just tell you one more thing for your own good though – if you lead a straight life, you’ll be happy; if not, God help you.”

The last not so innovative line was what a couple of those fake astrologers had told me. A prediction that could be told safely to anybody!

Rathindra Nath Bhattacharjee, more popularly known as RNB to his students and colleagues, is a retired English Teacher from Bhutan Civil Service. A recipient of the Gold Medal for Lifetime Achievement in Teaching from His Majesty, the 5th hereditary Monarch of Bhutan, Rathin Bhattacharjee is a prolific writer, blogger, podcaster, editor, translator and an avid reader.