The Fortune Teller

8

On The Train to Jalandhar

“What are you here for?” The lady asked Deborah abruptly. Her sobs and sobriety had drowned down in a wink. She returned as her usual irritating self, as if, from a fit of normalcy.

Deborah and Thomas were yet to recover from their brief moment of shock, and were quite unprepared for this question. The woman, however, didn’t wait for an answer, but barked out in her hoarse stupid, and shrill voice, “Oh, you haven’t come here all the way for a honeymoon?” She stared at Deborah from top to bottom, as if trying to examine something on her body, then she looked at Thomas, and said in a tone that resembled a mad woman. “ Nooo.. You don’t look like that.” She giggled like a little girl, and said, “ I am sorry. I was just wondering.” Thomas just rolled her eyes in disgust as she continued with her interrogation. “What are you here for, young lady?”

Deborah answered in a quick outburst as she had revealed her origins earlier. Only, this time, for Thomas’ relief, she didn’t reveal everything out. “Work.”, was all she said, and then, she got silent.

“What do you do?” The lady asked a quick question.

Deborah had started gathering her wits by now. She had already thought of the reply before the lady completed her question. “What do you do? Why don’t you tell us first?”

The lady smiled. “In this foreign land, I met people who adopted me. They left me with a skill that would never part from me. I have made a fortune from it.” She answered.

“What skill is it?” Thomas jumped in. He wouldn’t let Deborah speak anymore lest she gave up any other crucial information to the lady.

“I read fortunes and tell people about their future,” The lady answered.

“The crystal ball or something?” Deborah seemed interested.

“More accurate than that.” The lady answered. “Here, show me your hand.”

Deborah stretched her hand in front of her.

The lady read the hand for a moment, and then looked at her with strange eyes, as though reading from her face.

“A life full of agony and struggle, is it not? You lost your parents young, and went out for studies.” She said. “You have lost four of your loved ones, one of them pretty recently.”  She continued. ”You are running from someone.” Deborah kept quiet, however, the lady continued unabated. “Times are good now. You are blessed. Long journeys await you. You don’t have any idea, lady, what you will do will change the world.”

The lady contemplated for a moment, and then spoke again. “What are you here for, lady?”

“Well I am a historian, just came here on a sabbatical.” Deborah concealed the truth cunningly.

“Stay with me, both of you. We have long journeys to make together. I can see it clearly now. the mountain by the Emerald Lake. This was the time that all of us were waiting for.” Her voice seemed deep and genuine by now.

“You aren’t here on a sabbatical, girl. You and this priest are here because you were touched by the God!” She grew silent and closed her eyes.

ego Deus gratias ago tibi, et laudamus te

Thomas could briefly hear her say in her lips as she sat with closed eyes.

Deborah and Thomas

2

London, England 

“He was my uncle! I don’t know what you are talking about?” She protested sitting on the chair in the glass chamber.

“You mean to say that you weren’t there?” The officer asked.

“Of course, I wasn’t.”

“Then where were you?”

“At my home. I was sleeping at the time you are talking about.”

“Yes, that’s what most of the people do at that hour.”

“True.”

“Yes, True. That’s why most of the criminals use the night to work.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” She was irritated.

“Its just a matter of fact. Just discussing about some obvious correlations.”

“That isn’t what you are trained for, are you? Discussing correlations.”

“Hah! Witty Ms. Dawson.  I see that you are quite alert and free from stress. Not a very usual thing to see when someone is sitting on this seat. Well, there are always exceptions, but then another strange correlation is that most of those exceptions are seasoned criminals.”

Deborah didn’t speak anything in return.

“What about the cameras madam?”

“What about them?” Deborah asked.

“They tell us that you never came home.”

“They tell you that my car didn’t come home.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. Yes, that’s what it means.” The officer said.

“Because I came back with my friend. My car broke down. Its still at the services.”

“Ok…”

“So was it your first time with your uncle?” He suddenly changed the topic.

“You are offending me officer.” She cried.

“Ok. I’ll re phrase. Did you ever have any sexual relation with your uncle?”

Outside the glass box, the jury observed and heard the proceedings. The heart rate increased, so did the blood pressure. The Pulse oxymeter showed high values.

“No.” She answered.

The doctor of the court was watching the proceedings closely. He turned towards the jury and announced -

“She might be lying. She might have got offended as well. This can’t be confirmatory. Regarding the earlier part – she told the absolute truth.” 

“Thanks Ms. Dawson. You can hire a lawyer to defend yourself. If you won’t, the court would hire one for you.” The officer said. “For now, you are put on house arrest. The court will let you know the next date for hearing and the site.”

He turned away and left the glass chamber. The jury dispersed the court.

Lambeth Palace

“Father, this news moves me. There is something in my heart that compels me to go to Harrow – to her place.” He said, keeping the newspaper on the table and picking up the cup of tea.

Thomas was a young induct in the church. His study in law found an outlet in making official papers for the Archbishop of Canterbury. He was the assistant to the archbishop. However, he was also deeply interested in politics and news. The case of murder of Mr. Dawson attracted him particularly.

This morning he had sought an appointment with the Archbishop to discuss a personal matter.

“How would you justify it, son?” the bishop asked. He had the usual calmness in his voice, but his face seemed faintly anxious.

“Deborah Dawson has sought special permission from the court only for one thing.”

“…and what’s that?” archbishop asked.

“…to attend the Sunday mass at the church.”

It led to a semi – involuntary raise in the eyebrow of the Archbishop, but he suddenly normalized his expressions and smiled calmly saying –

“Seems like a good way to improve her image in the public.”

“She has been visiting the church every week. She knows all the nuns well. The church itself has given her a letter of approval which she produced to the court.”

“Hmmm….” archbishop said in a reflective mood. “That certainly strengthens your case.”

Father, I have been opening the page from the holy Bible since yesterday. Every time I open, it comes to the same passage. Pray, open a page for me sir.”

The Archbishop picked up the holy bible. Prayed on it and opened. As he moved his lips to read the passage, his eyes could only have recognized the first word, when Thomas repeated the whole passage before him.

But Jesus, answering, said to him, “Allow

it now, for this is the fitting way for us to fulfill all righteousness.”

Matthew 3:15

The Archbishop looked at Thomas, kept the book aside and said:

“Draft the letter and get it typed from the clerk. I’ll sign it for you.”

End of an era

Bamiyan

It was the year of power transfer. The Bamiyan Assembly held an election every four years in which the general public elected its representatives. The assembly had two limbs – the residential corporation and the commercial corporation. The residential corporation was elected by the people based on the geographical locations. Each location had a member who took care of the interests of the residents. The commercial corporation was elected by the trade guilds based on various registered professions. The trade guilds were elected by the professionals. The main work of the commercial corporation was regulation of the professions. Elected members of the residential corporation were simply called corporators, who were headed by a mayor, while those of the commercial corporation were called ministers. The ministers were headed by the chancellor. The mayor and the chancellor were integrated by the Convener of the assembly. The mayor, chancellor and the convener made the board of the governors, who also took care of the home office, the treasury, and the external affairs respectively. A shadow government was, likewise, made to represent the minority voice in the assembly. The shadow assembly had half the vote of the actual assembly. Every resolution was passed on a three fourth majority. As a result a second choice poll was usually conducted.

 

In the Grand Hall which was the office of the Convener of Bamiyan Assembly, Wazir Ali Khan signed on the sheet of parchment with his traditional fountain pen. As he ended his signatures with a dot, he broke the nib.

As was the tradition, the last sermon; as the law was called in Bamiyan, would be issued by the Convener in the Grand hall in presence of the mayor, the shadow mayor, the chancellor and the shadow chancellor. Over a period of time, the Conveners had made another unwritten rule of breaking the nib on the last sign.  

“Indeed, this era would be written in golden words in the history of Bamiyan.” Muzammil Hussain said holding Wazir’s hands, kissing them, and touching them on his eyes.

“Definitely sir! You make us proud.” The other voices added. There was an overwhelming atmosphere in the hall.

Wazir Ali smiled gently, took a seal out of his drawer and put it under his signatures. The seal bore the emblem of Afghanistan and under it was written:

W. A. Khan

Convener, Bamiyan Assembly

The sermon pronounced the dissolution of the Assembly and passage of all the powers to the chair of the highest power - ceremonial chair of the god kept under the golden dome in the central hall of the assembly. The chair would, thereafter, bestow the powers to the peoples’ representatives after elections. He passed the parchment over to his clerk. The clerk would later broadcast it and digitalize it for its use for all practical purposes. As for the parchment – it would be laminated and kept in the Assembly Achieves like all other sermons.

Wazir Khan folded his spectacles into his case. His Durban took hold of the case and followed him. As he moved on to the corridors, his staff had gathered on both the sides to see him off. He had been there for eight years – two consecutive terms. He had denied contesting for the third time.

Wazir took the stairway at his right that led to the central hall and stood before the chair of the highest power. He closed his eyes and said:

“Allah! Let there be prosperity and peace!”

All the people repeated the phrase. The only difference was that everyone prayed to his own god. The Chair of the hisghest Power was the place where the god sat – the one god, called by innumerable names. He protected the city and the world through ages. In this age of decline – Bamiyan was verily a heaven.

Wazir Khan left the building through the northern stairway that led straight to the Republic Street. People had gathered at the Assembly Square to see Wazir Khan leave the office. He was, perhaps, the most popular face in Afghanistan, and one of the world’s most important persons.  Just as Khan came out of the high door, there was a massive applause from the people at the square. Khan waved at them shortly and then descended the stairs onto the official wagon waiting to drop him home for the last time. He sat on his wagon and took a sigh. His work wasn’t over as yet, though.