29-08-2026, 07:34 PM
A few minutes later the astrologer came in.
He was wearing a saffron dhoti and a white shirt. At first glance he looked simple — an old man in his early sixties. But his face was ugly. Dark, uneven skin. A thick nose. Sunken cheeks. Yellowed teeth when he opened his mouth. His eyes were small and sharp, and they moved over us quickly as he entered the room.
He greeted us with a small fold of his hands.
“Sit, sit.”
He went to his wooden seat at the other end of the room and sat down. In front of him there were two chairs. He pointed toward them.
“Please sit.”
We sat down opposite him. My wife kept her hands together on her lap, still holding that hope in her face. I sat straight, watching him.
Deva looked at me for a moment and asked,
“You are an advocate?”
For a second I was caught off guard.
“How do you know that?”
He smiled a little, showing those yellowed teeth.
“I saw the advocate sticker on your car when you came in.”
The answer was so ordinary that I felt foolish for even asking. I sat back and said nothing.
Then he looked at my hands.
“Show me your palm.”
I stretched my right hand toward him. He took my palm in his rough fingers, turned it toward the light, and began looking at the lines. My wife leaned forward slightly, watching him as if the answer to our son’s future was already sitting in those lines.
I let him see my palm, still not believing a word of what this man was going to say.
Deva kept my right palm open under the light.
Then his thumb stopped on one point.
“There is a mole here,” he said. “On the right palm.”
He pressed the spot once and looked up at me.
“A mole on the right palm is not ordinary. It shows a man who rises through his own effort. Money will come. Name will come. People will stand up when you enter a room. But the same mole also shows hidden tension in the house. Success outside, unrest inside. The man earns well, but the peace of the family will be tested.”
He turned my palm a little more.
“This line here is strong. That is why you became an advocate and rose so fast. This other line is broken in one place. That is why, even after wealth, some worry will sit in the house and will not leave easily.”
He released my hand and sat back.
“Now tell me your date of birth.”
“30th October, 1974,” I said.
Deva closed his eyes for a moment, as if placing the date in his mind, then opened them again.
“30.10.1984. Scorpio lagna influence is heavy. A man born on this date will have a sharp mind, strong speech, and the power to dominate a room. Court, argument, authority — these will follow him. Wealth will also follow, especially after middle age. What other men take twenty years to build, this native can build faster.”
My wife listened as if every word was settling into her.
He continued.
“But the same date also shows a restless period around the family, especially connected to children and education. When the native’s name is high outside, one problem will rise inside the house and disturb the wife more than the husband. The wife will suffer first. The husband will try to control it with logic. That will not work. This period will not pass through money or argument. It will pass only through a remedy.”
He looked at me directly.
“Your future is not weak. You will remain successful. More money will come. Your name in the city will stay. But the present trouble in the house is sitting on the child’s education. Until that is corrected, the unrest will remain.”
I sat there listening, still unconvinced.
To me it sounded like a clever man reading a successful advocate’s face and then wrapping common family worry in the language of stars. But beside me, my wife’s breathing had already changed. Hope had come back into her eyes.
Deva had not even asked about our son yet.
And still he had spoken as if he already knew why we were sitting in that room.
My wife could not sit quietly any longer.
She leaned forward and said,
“Swami, we did not come here for my husband. We came for our son. The priest in the temple gave us your address and told us you would have a solution.”
Before Deva could answer, the door opened again.
A young man came in wearing a saffron dhoti and a saffron shirt. He looked like an assistant. Without speaking much, he went and sat near the door, close enough to hear everything, far enough not to enter the conversation. His eyes moved once over my wife and then settled on the floor.
Deva did not look at him. He looked only at my wife.
“Then tell me why you are here,” he said. “Do not lie to me. If you hide even a small thing, the remedy will not work. I want full trust.”
My wife swallowed and nodded.
Deva continued, his voice slower now.
“I do not want half words. I want to know exactly what you want from me. Not what the priest said. Not what your husband thinks. What you want. Say it clearly.”
The room became very still.
My wife sat with her hands on her lap, the young assistant at the door, and Deva waiting for her to open her mouth. I remained silent beside her, watching the old man who had already started taking control of the room.
He was wearing a saffron dhoti and a white shirt. At first glance he looked simple — an old man in his early sixties. But his face was ugly. Dark, uneven skin. A thick nose. Sunken cheeks. Yellowed teeth when he opened his mouth. His eyes were small and sharp, and they moved over us quickly as he entered the room.
He greeted us with a small fold of his hands.
“Sit, sit.”
He went to his wooden seat at the other end of the room and sat down. In front of him there were two chairs. He pointed toward them.
“Please sit.”
We sat down opposite him. My wife kept her hands together on her lap, still holding that hope in her face. I sat straight, watching him.
Deva looked at me for a moment and asked,
“You are an advocate?”
For a second I was caught off guard.
“How do you know that?”
He smiled a little, showing those yellowed teeth.
“I saw the advocate sticker on your car when you came in.”
The answer was so ordinary that I felt foolish for even asking. I sat back and said nothing.
Then he looked at my hands.
“Show me your palm.”
I stretched my right hand toward him. He took my palm in his rough fingers, turned it toward the light, and began looking at the lines. My wife leaned forward slightly, watching him as if the answer to our son’s future was already sitting in those lines.
I let him see my palm, still not believing a word of what this man was going to say.
Deva kept my right palm open under the light.
Then his thumb stopped on one point.
“There is a mole here,” he said. “On the right palm.”
He pressed the spot once and looked up at me.
“A mole on the right palm is not ordinary. It shows a man who rises through his own effort. Money will come. Name will come. People will stand up when you enter a room. But the same mole also shows hidden tension in the house. Success outside, unrest inside. The man earns well, but the peace of the family will be tested.”
He turned my palm a little more.
“This line here is strong. That is why you became an advocate and rose so fast. This other line is broken in one place. That is why, even after wealth, some worry will sit in the house and will not leave easily.”
He released my hand and sat back.
“Now tell me your date of birth.”
“30th October, 1974,” I said.
Deva closed his eyes for a moment, as if placing the date in his mind, then opened them again.
“30.10.1984. Scorpio lagna influence is heavy. A man born on this date will have a sharp mind, strong speech, and the power to dominate a room. Court, argument, authority — these will follow him. Wealth will also follow, especially after middle age. What other men take twenty years to build, this native can build faster.”
My wife listened as if every word was settling into her.
He continued.
“But the same date also shows a restless period around the family, especially connected to children and education. When the native’s name is high outside, one problem will rise inside the house and disturb the wife more than the husband. The wife will suffer first. The husband will try to control it with logic. That will not work. This period will not pass through money or argument. It will pass only through a remedy.”
He looked at me directly.
“Your future is not weak. You will remain successful. More money will come. Your name in the city will stay. But the present trouble in the house is sitting on the child’s education. Until that is corrected, the unrest will remain.”
I sat there listening, still unconvinced.
To me it sounded like a clever man reading a successful advocate’s face and then wrapping common family worry in the language of stars. But beside me, my wife’s breathing had already changed. Hope had come back into her eyes.
Deva had not even asked about our son yet.
And still he had spoken as if he already knew why we were sitting in that room.
My wife could not sit quietly any longer.
She leaned forward and said,
“Swami, we did not come here for my husband. We came for our son. The priest in the temple gave us your address and told us you would have a solution.”
Before Deva could answer, the door opened again.
A young man came in wearing a saffron dhoti and a saffron shirt. He looked like an assistant. Without speaking much, he went and sat near the door, close enough to hear everything, far enough not to enter the conversation. His eyes moved once over my wife and then settled on the floor.
Deva did not look at him. He looked only at my wife.
“Then tell me why you are here,” he said. “Do not lie to me. If you hide even a small thing, the remedy will not work. I want full trust.”
My wife swallowed and nodded.
Deva continued, his voice slower now.
“I do not want half words. I want to know exactly what you want from me. Not what the priest said. Not what your husband thinks. What you want. Say it clearly.”
The room became very still.
My wife sat with her hands on her lap, the young assistant at the door, and Deva waiting for her to open her mouth. I remained silent beside her, watching the old man who had already started taking control of the room.
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