Affinity and Moods

Some incidents become unforgettable, not because they are extraordinary, but because they strike us at a vulnerable age. They take root in our minds, shaping our thoughts, our choices, and sometimes the course of our entire destiny. I have carried this memory for half a century, replaying it countless times. Perhaps it is time to set it down and let it go.

When I was a pre-teen, we often visited my uncle’s house. A friendly neighbor’s family would always welcome us warmly. They would seat us, exchange pleasantries, and make us feel at home. In that household lived an elderly man who claimed to know astrology. In those days, astrologers were held in high regard. Few possessed such knowledge, and those who did commanded respect and attention.

Among my cousins, I was considered the brightest. So, whenever the man began his predictions, everyone urged me to listen carefully. His words, however, carried a sting. He would say, “You are good at studies, but your future i.e. your married life will be bad, because you are not adjusting by nature.” At the same time, he would praise my cousin sister (his neighbor), saying that though she wasn’t as bright, she would enjoy a good married life because she was “adjusting” and “people oriented.”

My parents weren’t always around, and even if my mother was, she never took his words seriously. But he repeated this prophecy often enough that it sank in. At first, I only wondered how he could judge me without knowing me. Gradually, though, the humiliation gave way to fear. I was too young to grasp life’s complexities, yet those words burrowed deep. They shook my confidence, lowered my trust in relationships, and became a warning I carried long before I ever stepped into one.

Indian society then was intrusive. A child’s future was judged by the father’s financial standing. If the father was stable, the children were considered lucky; if not, they were labeled “hard luck.” I fell into the latter category.

But I refused to let those words define me. I worked hard, built a career, married well, and created a prosperous life. The man who made those predictions is long gone, and his words stand disproved. And yet, the hurt lingers, like an old echo, still replaying in my mind, reminding me how deeply a careless remark can wound a child.

Looking back now, I realize he was never capable of giving an accurate reading. Perhaps I am not “adjusting” in the way he meant, but I know I can sacrifice for my family. And I am fortunate to have found a husband who values and revers all that I do. In that truth, I find peace and proof that destiny is written not by strangers but by the choices we make for ourselves.