The Whirlwind Review

The Whirlwind Review
Issue 1

Table of Contents
More Poetry
Previous

Vivek Sharma

A Biography, Scripted by Astrologers

Sometimes I think our family of astrologers tricked
me into choices I have made all my life.

The nav-grah, planets, I was told, would align to make my tasks
harder. But if I make the effort,Vrihaspati, Jupiter, Guru of gods, would delight
in imparting me knowledge. But like in the ancient times, the dark influences,
will try to seduce me into failures, attack me. But if I keep meat off my plate,
drink no wine, fast at least once per fortnight, I could avert the severity of blow,
allowing me to become a famous engineer. But fame will come late,
after a long hiatus, or wait. Then Surya or Sun will rise to set my world straight.
But then Mars or Mangal rules, that bloody planet, God of anger and accidents
involving water or fire, so no motorized vehicle till the age of twenty-three.
(My mother's argument: The engines have to be ignited, and there is no smoke
without a fire somewhere).

I battled Mangal with a magical stone, set in silver ring, and fasted on Mangalvar
or Tuesday, seeking Hanuman's aid. His skill at battling the bad-blooded
demons is celebrated in Ramayana, in Tulsi's Chalisa.
(Ask any Indian who drives or walks alone at night,
how many times does he recite, those lines from sixteenth century).
I was told, after Mangal's reign ends, only the page would see my rage,
and then Soma or Moon will bring moody states and hazy vision,
implying unrequited love, or need for spectacles. Possibly the latter,
from stress on eyes from excess reading (which is not a bad after-effect).

If father's influence wins, I was told, officialdom would be a fitting career,
but there is an inclination for writing and music. As shalokas, hymns
are musical poems, a spiritual journey may unfold, as is befitting for a son
of Brahmin family. Leadership, as a celibate Guru or great King is possible,
(but my mother said I'll marry, and democracy has no kings). But the counting,
(they refer to the astrology as ganana or counting), they said, shows a prowess
in science, which can be realized through higher education, and the counting,
shows travel over large distances, so trips to foreign lands were advertized.

*

As a child, I could not visualize it:
there was no writer or poet or engineer in family,
no one had traveled beyond the distant seas,
but now I think our family and other astrologers lied

to give me this role-play
I am tricked into acting throughout my life.
Success was scripted,
galaxies, gods and numbers were working to ensure it
and unless I botched up my lines,
or missed my cue, I was to get rewards
if I focused on the effort, karma, necessary
to have me deserve it. Every year, a varsh-fal,
(annual prediction chart) was compiled to keep the prophecies
updated and alive.

At twenty-seven, it was predicted that I'll turn charming,
and perhaps it gave me the confidence that proved the astrologer
right. Now I am marrying for love, which I was told was not revealed early,
but was also prophesied. At the astrologically correct time, humans, Gods,
gandharavas, ghosts, ancestors, souls, stars, planets, will supervise
my wedding. Invisible blessings, as flowers, will tumble from the skies,
and we will unite before the holy fire, Agni, for at least seven lives.

*

Years back, on returning to Atlanta from a trip home, I told Thomas Lux:
"I asked an astrologer about my writing, he advised: 'focus on engineering,
your chart says you'll write, but you won't be like Salman Rushdie.'" Gurudev Lux
smiled, and said, "That dimwit! Why would you be like Rushdie?
You're a poet. A poet you will be. If we publish your poems as chapbook,
you will earn more money than me."

A prophesy is always necessary to kill another.

*

It seems many grand schemes are in place (trains are destined to bear my name),
so my motivation stays. But after brooding over polymers, drops, beetles and nanoparticles,
after writing verses in English, my doctoral thesis and research articles, I fear
errors in their calculations, or unexpected celestial events, like demotion of Pluto,
or improbabilities embedded in string theory, have tempered my biography,
I am living like it was never expected to be. So when I try to translate
Hindi poems, or describe my childhood in my writings,
I see how the words in English are trapped in their own cultural labyrinths.
When I seek physics problems, I find myself wallowing in precincts
of the known, echoing established findings.

*

These men who know nothing of my GPAs, test-scores or publications,
pore over my janam-patri, birth-chart, to provide self-similar prophesies
I know that these calculations, based on the positions
of constellations at the time of my birth
involve same equations, following a near-eternal rhythm,
and there is no reason to get different answers any time. But they say
that the interpretation of results distinguishes a master from a dilettante.
Any computer, monkey, politician, MBA can compute the odds,
any experimentalist and journalist can collect data, but seeing
what lies beyond or within the miasma or mist,
requires a mystic, psychic, scientific power
and only spiritually advanced selves possess it.

*

I think our destiny is shaped by the limits we set aside. Our destinations,
aspirations tug us, we drift towards what is described as the grandest
thing to do. Since I am not destined to have a simple life of hyacinths,
I grit my teeth, wait for galaxies to complete their motions,
and knowing I control only my actions, "karmaneva adhikaraste,
mahafaleshu kadachana," not the ultimate fruit, I strive
to reconcile with whatever life brings.

*

Many say that Rama, Krishna, Moses and Jesus
turned divine through their words and actions,
a divine will was through them realized,
but maybe they too acted heroically,
to fulfill the destinies . . . prophesied?