The Hor(r)o(r)scope

CANCER
“The day will be financially rewarding, you could have your favorite food today.” read “Your day Today” column in the daily.

Some people believed in horoscopes, and they worked hard to make their forecasts true. They would change their perspective to make sure all the forecasts stood right. Mr.Sampath is one such man, unemployed and lazy.
He was a drunkard, but he disagreed. He called it fondness for drinking.

Certainly his day was financially rewarding, he won two hundred rupees
from a card game at the bar. He spent the whole money on a chicken biriyani and an Old monk, and made his forecast for the day.

“Tringggg………,” cried the calling bell.

“You are stinking, you could have slept at the bar,” shouted his wife.

They were married for more than a year; she had tried everything to change
him. She was getting frustrated at his sarcasm and at times from physical torture.

“I did whatever my horoscope read. I’m happy being like this,” laughed Sampath.

“Dinner is on the table,” murmured his wife.

She took up the daily, turned to the horoscope column, and focused her vision on her zodiac sign.

PISCES
“Don’t be surprised if you meet somebody who makes your pulse race.”

Quite right. She told herself.

Lazy Sampath woke up very early, read “Your day Today” column and went
on to think of ways to implement his daily forecasts. It was his routine,
he made it a point to implement his forecasts.

Today it read
CANCER
“A sense of satisfaction in your success. Anything relating to your spouse may play a bigger part in your life. A divorce, court harassment is highly possible.”

He could not think of ways to implement a divorce, did he want one?
Not at all, where would he get the money to get himself drunk?

Sampath looked at the clock. It was eleven thirty, he felt hungry, no clues
of the chicken biriyani in his belly.

He looked around the hall, no one was there. The kitchen door was locked, and no signs of breakfast on the stove. The refrigerator was empty, as empty as it used to be.

“Where did she go?” he wondered.

He switched on the TV, and took the daily on the other hand. He browsed through the sports pages and out of habit, stopped at the horoscope column.

“It’s going to be my first failure,” he laughed at himself, after reading his
horoscope.

He looked at it again. His mouth sagged, eyes dropped and he felt numbness at his throat.

The column read:
PISCES
“You could be seeking out some form of independence. Today you are likely to be the one taking the first step”

He didn’t fail, as his horoscope read, there was a sense of satisfaction in his success.

Meet the Maniac

Varun Menon worked in a software firm in Chennai, and he couldn’t take his eyes of a stranger at their first dinner party at the main office. He couldn’t place the face of the stranger anywhere in his memory bank. Where had he met him?

“Excuse me,” murmured a giggly voice behind him, for Varun was standing in front of the entrance door; occupied with the thought of the stranger.

“When did you come?” continued the giggly voice.

It was Praveena, Varun’s classmate and colleague. Habitually, they travel together to the office but it was one of the days when she missed the company bus, she was quite used to this missing-the-bus business.

“You missed the bus again, Why don’t you get up early?” shot back Varun.

“Hey sorry, I’m really sorry, you shouldn’t wait for me…You know, my alarm didn’t work today…” replied Praveena.

“I guessed it right then…” he smiled at her and continued “Do you know that guy in blue shirt, the one wearing a dotted tie?”

“That’s surprising; he’s my first cousin, a very interesting character…”

“Is he?” Varun replied absent mindedly, still pondering over the place of their last meeting.

“You know him? When did you meet him?” asked Praveena, unable to hide her surprise.

“Didn’t he come to our training centre at Pune?” queried Varun, rather mechanically. He was still gaping at the stranger.

“Varun, you have an amazing memory. He did come to see me on our second day of training, you know, He lost his expensive silver mobile when he came to our class. A cute little mobile…”

Varun was petrified when he saw the stranger moving towards him. He didn’t notice Praveena calling her cousin, she was eager to introduce the stranger to her close friend.
Varun had this habit of stealing things that pleased him. Four months ago, when there was an opportunity to please him, he had pleased himself.
The dotted tied fellow was the same man, who had left his silver mobile on the table, just for a second, and that was more than enough for the well trained twitchy hands of a practiced snatcher.

The first time he saw that silver mobile, his hands had began to twitch, and he couldn’t control himself from stealing it. He hardly looked at the owner of the mobile; he didn’t have to, he wasn’t planning to take it by force. He liked it the non-violence way, he waited for the prey to take rest and at its weakest moment he would pinch of the object of desire. He wasn’t sure of using the mobile, nor was he willing to sell it for a price. It was for personal satisfaction, he derived a certain unexplained thrill in stealing silly objects of strangers. He had that mobile safely locked in a cupboard, which was filled with stolen objects: pens, sharpeners, video game cartridges, CD’s and innumerable number of insignificant items.

“Are you in this world!” shouted Praveena, “This is Mr. Rajeev, our senior coordinator and my cousin.”

“Hello sir,” spoke Varun, raising his right hand toward a hand that was about to come out of a dark blue trouser.

They shook hands, “Hello,” replied Rajeev, with a deep throaty voice.

“This is Varun. Haven’t I told you about him? The painter near my house, do you remember?”

“Oh, yes, the painter… How do you do young man? Do you still paint people around you?” spoke Rajeev as if he knew everything about Varun.

“Occasionally, it’s hard to get time these days,” dragged Varun pessimistically.

Varun was contemplating on the probability of getting caught; of the chances of Rajeev recognizing him. He felt an urge to return the mobile to its rightful owner, for he had never deceived people close to him. He badly wanted to return the mobile; a hundred possibilities ran a hundred meter dash in his twitchy limping mind. What was he going to do?

“Hey Varun, It’s time for dinner,” beamed Praveena and turned to Rajeev and continued, “Don’t forget to come home this Sunday, I’ll ask Varun to come too,”

“Sure, I’d be delighted to meet you people again. See you young man?”

Early in the morning, on the Sunday morning, Varun called up Praveena to invite her cousin to his house for a coffee. Varun was unwell, sick with a sense of guilt. He had planned a few things for the evening at his room on the terrace. How was he going to return the silver mobile?

At about six in the evening, Rajeev and Praveena arrived at Varun’s house. He quickly took Rajeev to his room at the terrace, under the pretext of displaying his paintings. Praveena wasn’t invited there; as he had mentioned about a tete-e-tete with Rajeev in advance.

It was a large room, with scattered books, and many a framed paintings on the wall glittering under a fluorescent lamp that hung over a study table. Rajeev was expecting a kind of painting exhibition at Varun’s room; he used to paint a bit when he was young and obviously was interested in art and looked forward to Varun’s exhibition. Varun showed him a brown cupboard under the reading table, opened it and took out a shining silver object. It was twinkling under the fluorescent lamp, and he swiftly handed it to Rajeev. Rajeev couldn’t believe his eyes, he had never imagined to see his imported silver mobile again. At first, he had assumed it to be a mobile of the same make, and when he realized that it was his lost mobile; he could hardly hide his happiness.

Varun recounted about the disease he was suffering from, a kind of deadly habit; the habit of impulsive stealing. He had had consulted a doctor when he was fifteen, only to end a good relationship with the doctor when a mass disappearance of thermometers surfaced at the poor doctor’s clinic. Varun showed him the entire collection of looted objects; some were so ridiculous that it made Rajeev laugh like a child. Who wouldn’t laugh if someone proclaimed that he’d pinched a button battery of a watch?

Rajeev calmly listened to Varun’s Kleptomaniac stories, and promised never to bring out their secret interaction to anyone, especially Praveena. Rajeev looked pleased with Varun’s honesty, and they parted from the terrace as good friends. The confession had brought them very close, as close as flesh and nail.

Monday morning, Praveena was late as usual to the bus stand. They were waiting for their company bus when Varun obscurely mentioned Rajeev’s name; the bus could be spotted at the traffic signal, it would arrive in a few seconds.

“He’s an interesting man, liked him a lot.” said Varun cheerily.

“Of course, he is, you know, he’s a kleptomaniac…He’s an interesting character.” replied Praveena, hurriedly moving to the honking bus, pleading them to get in.