Manny was around fifty, ten years older than Raj. Manny had made a fortune in the Indian steel business. When Raj had taken his correspondence course in astrology a few years before, Manny’s horoscope had been his final project. Raj remembered that even with all of Manny’s money, the chart showed difficulty in the fifth house — some fracture with a child. And since Manny had but one son... Well, well, well, Manny and Raj’s fortunes intertwined.
Now Raj did a more extensive moon chart of Manny, which showed him to be a ruthless man who destroyed his competition and cared little for others. So it is only fair, Raj reasoned, that though he have a fortune (he was, after all, born in the Shukra ascension), his lack of humility must bring him pain in some other area of his life. And nothing would concern the great Manny Sharma more than the thought of his prince marrying a loose woman.
Neal Sharma was an MBA student at the Stern School at NYU. Raj had no trouble locating him the next day. Raj presented himself in the lounge of the Stern building and waited. Soon classes were over and he spotted Manny’s son with a group of other young men. Neal was handsome, slim, and decidedly casual for being the son of one of the wealthiest families in India. Raj watched and studied him. Was he a good kid? He seemed to be enjoying the company of his friends. No pretentiousness. Not the strongest personality in the group. Not the most handsome. But a good enough fellow.
Raj continued his investigation by doing Neal’s chart. His instincts were correct: Neal was a boy of unquestionably good moral character. Would have a happy family life. Three children. And, of course, lots of wealth. How to play this out? Raj wondered. He felt he was still missing something and so he’d sleep on it. He dreamed all night of Miss Little India, Queens.
Raj woke up with a plan that made him feel young. He knew where his destiny lay. He did not doubt the stars. He went to the electronics store and haggled a digital camera. He knew where Ritu lived and went to her apartment building five blocks away. Soon enough, he saw her. She wore a skirt that covered her knees and a simple pink top. No makeup. Flat sandals. Just the sight of her made his heart beat faster. He moved to the other side of the street.
And took her picture.
Dear Mr. Sharma,
I have started the surveillance you requested. The girl in question is difficult to track and will require many days of observation. I attach a photo of her I took just this morning.
For the first time in years, he was hungry for something. His brain — which, as a young man, had been routinely praised for its discipline and quickness — was perhaps going to be used again. Maybe it had just been resting till now. Wearing a hat and dark glasses to obscure his appearance, he went in search of the couple. It wasn’t hard. He waited outside her building, and soon he saw Neal buzzed in. They came out together not ten minutes later, and he took photos of them walking. They went to lunch at Chat Hut. He slid into the table behind her, and she never noticed him. How could she, when all she did was look at Neal and smile? They were chatting about this and that, in the meandering way young couples do when smitten. He had a paper due, she had a job interview; he wanted to go to a movie that night, she said earlier was better. Neal was eating channa with puri and she had a dahl chat plate. She fed him a spoon full of her chat.
“Ritu, I can’t wait to take you to the chat place in Delhi, baby, you will love it,” Neal said as they got up to leave.
Raj waited a few days and sent the photos to Manny. With an emaiclass="underline"
Dear Sir,
I am distressed to inform you that your son is in fact seriously entangled with the girl in question. Their contacts are substantial and plans of going to India together were discussed. If you advise, I will speak to this girl, who is known to be greedy, to see what I can work out — for the sake of your son and your family honor.
Manny replied instantly:
Understood. Range of $25,000-$50,000 approved. Send details for money transfer.
Raj e-mailed again two days later — at night so it would be received early in the morning in Delhi:
Dear Sir,
I met with the girl and had to go the maximum range of the offer as she was determined to get more after marriage or possible divorce. So you see how she thinks. If approved, she wants funds quickly and will move away from this city.
Almost immediately, Raj received a response:
My son’s happiness is my duty to ensure. Thus, $50,000 is my obligation to pay. Send details and wire transfer will take place. Thank you for your diligent service.
The money was in Raj’s account within twenty-four hours.
He put on his best suit with the red tie and first went to the Lakshmi Temple when he knew there’d be no long, drawn-out prayer ceremonies under way. He wrote a check for $201 and left it in the donation box. Bowed to Lakshmi, took a bit of parshad to sweeten his mouth, and left. He knew the right thing to do. And God blessing him for doing the right thing would bring good karma.
Time to visit Miss Ritu. He had with him her astrology chart. Ritu lived in a small studio apartment. It was simple and tastefully decorated. She had taken his call and his request for a visit in a relaxed way. “So nice to hear from you again,” she’d said. She’s all class, he thought.
“Mr. Raj, would you like some tea?” she asked when he arrived. He accepted her gracious offer. When they were seated at the dining table, he opened up the astrology chart.
“Dear Ritu, I have some news I must share with you,” he said. “With the moon on the eclipse and the house of Rahu on the cusp, I urge you to marry quickly. If you need help finding a suitable mate, I will help. You should be with a doctor or businessman...”
She was listening intently. “No, no, I appreciate your offer of help — but I’m—”
“Oh, so you are involved?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Good news. Good. Then arrange hastily, if you must. Arrange quickly to marry. It is so written and must be done before the full moon or you risk... Let’s not discuss that. Marry immediately, you must.” He noticed how her delicate fingers twirled the silky strands of her hair as he spoke. He departed then, leaving the chart behind.
Four months before, he had been the judge for Miss Little India, Queens. He had been one of the sponsors of the contest — having given $550 to place his name prominently in the advertisement for the event. For his money he had expected flirting from the contestants, hints of romance, some ego stroking — and these of course had come — but nothing prepared him for the pressures of the final round. It ended up that for the last stretch of the two-day contest, he was the sole judge. So he decided that the five girls in the finals would each dance to a song from the Hindi classic film, Pakeezah. It was enchanting, haunting music that Meena Kumari, the loveliest actress to ever grace the big screen, danced along to with stunning grace. Raj had picked his favorite movie and favorite actress as the challenge. There could be no greater challenge, as the audience, too, knew every gesture and movement that Meena Kumari danced in the film. It was the highlight of Indian cinema — the beauty of the camera movement, the music, the story, Meena Kumari.