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February 26, 1997

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V Gangadhar

The Wheel of Fortune

Dominic Xavier's illustration A couple of days back, I stepped into a well known Bengali sweets shop in Bandra, Bombay to buy some rosogollas. As soon as I entered the shop, the lights went off and all transactions stopped. I waited for around 15 minutes but the shop was still in darkness. Finally, I walked out and bought the sweets from another shop located exactly opposite. As soon as I had paid the money in the second shop, the lights were back in the more well-known sweets shop.

My jinx was working again and I was not surprised. These days I have learnt to take these in my stride. It is quite normal for me to wait at a bus stand for a bus no 222 going to Versova and experience the agony of not seeing the particular bus for over an hour.

In the meantime, dozens of buses bearing the number 422 would pass through the stand. Yet, whenever I waited for 422, it would completely disappear and be replaced by frequent arrivals of the 222. I got irritated and cursed my luck for my misfortune even in such small matters, but my new found sense of tolerance has helped me out.

As long as I can remember, this jinx had bothered me. Oh, how many times had I been stopped at the entrance of a lift because it has become too full to carry one more person. While waiting for railway tickets at the crowded counters at Victoria Terminus or Bombay Central, I dread the moment when the counters come down with a bang signalling the lunch break just when my turn had come.

This also happens to me while waiting for tickets at cinema theatres - the 'houseful' boards always coincided with my turn at the counters. At the Bandra railway station, if I waited for the fast local trains, I always saw the slow trains coming one after the other at the adjoining platforms. When I switched platforms, the process was reversed. The slow trains disappeared and the fast locals took over.

In city buses, my joy of getting a window seat disappeared very fast as I was squeezed into a corner by a very fat fellow passenger, or a mother with a drooling baby or a man carrying an enormous briefcase which kept nudging my knees.

The other passengers, I noted, were always luckier. They shared their seats with attractive girls or at least well dressed thin men without briefcases. The curse haunted me in the suburban trains too. After getting a corner seat following a bruising struggle, I would find that the fan over my seat would not work while every other fans in the coach whirred merrily away.

It was the same with long distance trains. I always had to put up with large families, children mewling and puking all the time or being squeezed into a corner by the enormous quantities of luggage belonging to fellow passengers.

The one question which had bothered me always is: 'Why Me?' Had fate targetted me for a specific purpose? Why should I suffer like this when other passengers enjoy their travel, often in the company of attractive and intelligent seat mates? Till date, I have not been able to find an answer to these questions.

Mind you, this jinx does not affect everyone. Wheneve, I go out with my wife, I am 'dejinxed'. Within five minutes of our arrival at the bus stop, we get the bus we want, that too with plenty of empty seats. The trains run on time, autorickshaw drivers oblige us readily and life becomes easier.

But my elder daughter, unfortunately, appears to have inherited my bad luck. Like me, she is an ardent supporter of the West Indian cricket team. Yet, her favourites always lost whenever she watched the direct telecasts of the matches. The victories of Courtney Walsh and company were achieved when she was engaged elsewhere and had to miss out even the highlights of television. The jinx even followed her to the US, where she has enrolled for a Ph D programme. For instance, she lost out moving into an ideal apartment by just five minutes. Later that day, she telephoned home and we exchanged mutual sympathies.

Several years ago, I had read a book which explained why bad things happened to good people. But the anecdotes in the book dealt with more serious happenings like death in the family, accidents, bankruptcy and so on. With us, the mishaps were rather minor. No one would term missing a bus or having to share a seat in the train with an uncouth, dirty, fellow passenger as a mishap. But, I am at times frustrated why buses and trains eluded me, the lift doors closed on my face and my favourite cricket team lost whenever I watched them on television.

It is here the question of fate comes up. One of the arguments for bad things happening to good people was, perhaps, the sins committed by them in previous births. I do not believe in all this but, going by my experiences, I do feel at times that I must have committed some small sins in one of my earlier births.

In colloquial Tamil, we refer to this as thalayil ezuthu (writing on the head). I remember a scene from The Omen where the American diplomat in London, Gregory Peck, was horrified to find the figures 666 on his son's head which indicated that he was linked with the devil. Thank God, my head bears no such numbers, not even a '333' to indicate a minor sinner in a previous birth.

Can one combat these jinxes? I do try some sneaky tricks. For instance, while waiting at the bus stop for the 222 bus, I tell myself that I am travelling on the 422 and hope it would arrive soon. While watching cricket on television I tell everyone present that my favourite team will lose. Occasionally, something positive happens and I am happy that my trick has worked.

Illustration: Dominic Xavier

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