Truth is stranger than Fiction

When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable,
must be the truth.- Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

I went only because I had time and nothing to do. I had had my fair share of mall-hopping, movies and coffee joints and was generally looking at this as a newest source of entertainment.

A bit of persuasion from my parents and an unusually restless me found myself meandering through the ever-maddening traffic of Pune , climbing the never-ending stairs of a run-down building to reach “The Gateway to my future”. Sounds confusing? Then read on.

Your future is written centuries before you were born and can be decoded by studying your thumb impression. This is what he had to say. The couple of hours of waiting to hear what my future would hold for me were spent in a small room largely unfurnished bar the presence of a TV that blared images of a hapless Australian Cricket team being pummeled by the Kiwis. The difference was almost surreal, the disconnect between the two worlds too difficult to grasp.

Cut to the next scene…. My turns come finally. I see myself in an 8x8 room with the exponent of this art. After explaining me the basis of his theory, he moved on to tell me my future. He asked me a set of questions; some related some not to finally come to the leaf which would have my future written on it. Before that he summed up my personal information for me
Name……
Father’s Name…..
Mother Name….
Age…
Date of Birth…..
Educational Qualifications (along with the specializations)
My job details
And a whole host of other details that my face, attire or demeanor couldn’t possibly betray.

After this he proceeded to lay out my future in front of eyes…. some events seemed probable some not.

I returned home later with a mixed bag of emotions. Partly relieved with the assurance that life has good things in store (or atleast that was promised to me), partly disgusted for having ventured into something like this. But the overwhelming emotion that I carried for the remainder of the day (actually I still carry some of it as I write this) was one of utter helplessness and being slighted by some unknown force that had already planned out my life for me.