WEBVTT - Chalta Hai 0:00:10.880 --> 0:00:16.160 Warning. The following episode includes discussion of magical leaves, prophecies, miracles, 0:00:16.360 --> 0:00:20.680 big temples, bigger disappointments, black magic, fresh lime, soda, and 0:00:20.720 --> 0:00:24.040 snake astronauts. Sensitive listeners, you've been warned. 0:00:35.040 --> 0:00:37.199 It's the middle of August. I've been in India for 0:00:37.280 --> 0:00:41.600 two minutes and everything is falling apart. I want the 0:00:41.600 --> 0:00:44.720 complaint number for the universe. I want a manager on 0:00:44.800 --> 0:00:48.000 the line because this is not what my astrologer, Dr 0:00:48.080 --> 0:00:49.280 Kumar told me WOULD happened. 0:00:49.520 --> 0:00:53.040 So you're in the right track. Something very profound is 0:00:53.080 --> 0:00:54.000 going to happen to you know. 0:00:54.520 --> 0:00:57.120 I mean Dr Kumar did predict I'd be going to 0:00:57.200 --> 0:00:58.080 India for this show. 0:00:58.520 --> 0:01:01.800 There are lots of things for you to accomplish, including 0:01:01.920 --> 0:01:05.720 foreign travels, So go to India because that is all 0:01:05.800 --> 0:01:06.960 the gyaan wisdom is. 0:01:09.280 --> 0:01:10.320 And he also said this 0:01:11.280 --> 0:01:14.760 You cannot fail, let's put it as that. 0:01:20.280 --> 0:01:24.040 Back in April, I experienced a miracle of astrology. I 0:01:24.120 --> 0:01:27.759 had walked into a random astrologer's office and queens and 0:01:27.959 --> 0:01:31.480 during my session, the astrologer Dr Kumar had told me 0:01:31.560 --> 0:01:36.360 something horrible would happen, and he was right. Exactly one 0:01:36.360 --> 0:01:39.760 month later, my father passed away and it changed the 0:01:39.760 --> 0:01:45.280 trajectory of both this show and my life. And for 0:01:45.360 --> 0:01:47.520 many people that would be enough to make them believe 0:01:47.560 --> 0:01:51.880 in astrology, but it wasn't for me. Astrology had told 0:01:51.920 --> 0:01:54.680 me what would happen, but I still had no idea 0:01:54.760 --> 0:01:58.279 what to do about it. But there was one place 0:01:58.320 --> 0:02:01.640 that I really thought could have and there's these little 0:02:01.680 --> 0:02:06.560 shops hidden across India that practice nadi astrology. The idea is, 0:02:06.640 --> 0:02:10.000 your fortune was written on scrolls centuries ago, and if 0:02:10.000 --> 0:02:13.880 you can find your scroll, it'll reveal everything, your past, 0:02:14.000 --> 0:02:18.760 your future, who's the person you're supposed to be? Anyway, 0:02:19.080 --> 0:02:21.360 the moment I decided to book the trip to see 0:02:21.360 --> 0:02:24.119 one of these shops, I called my aunt Suman and 0:02:24.320 --> 0:02:26.760 asked her to be my fixer. When I was in 0:02:26.840 --> 0:02:30.880 high school, Suman or Suman-akka and my uncle Jayant let me 0:02:31.000 --> 0:02:33.800 live and intern with them in Bombay for a summer. 0:02:34.280 --> 0:02:37.720 They were running this hot advertising company called Heartbeat, which 0:02:37.960 --> 0:02:41.840 had just made huge waves with this racy condom campaign. 0:02:49.440 --> 0:02:53.600 Of course, I sat in on the decidedly less racy 0:02:53.760 --> 0:02:58.880 creative meetings, which I loved, pitching ideas and jingles for 0:02:58.960 --> 0:03:03.880 things like washing machines and ceiling fans that summer gave 0:03:03.960 --> 0:03:08.000 high school me a huge boost of confidence. It had 0:03:08.040 --> 0:03:10.600 this direct impact on my co founding a magazine a 0:03:10.600 --> 0:03:15.720 few years later. But also hanging with Suman-akka was just fun. 0:03:16.520 --> 0:03:21.240 She inspired silliness, like sometimes she'll just decide it's more 0:03:21.320 --> 0:03:23.880 enjoyable to have a conversation like you're singing opera to 0:03:23.880 --> 0:03:24.359 one another. 0:03:24.800 --> 0:03:29.160 Today's shopping list from me coffee jam, a bag of tea, 0:03:29.480 --> 0:03:34.600 something sweet, and spaghetti. This will be hot, boring, spree. 0:03:35.960 --> 0:03:39.760 So I'm eager to hang out with her again. Except 0:03:40.840 --> 0:03:45.360 somewhere between Bombay's baggage claim and customs, I get this 0:03:45.440 --> 0:03:46.480 call 0:03:46.560 --> 0:03:50.040 Right now. I'm shivering away, so I'm so, 0:03:50.320 --> 0:03:52.640 I'm really so sorry that you're you're ill. 0:03:53.200 --> 0:03:56.320 It's really frustrating because I've arranged everything else. 0:03:56.360 --> 0:03:59.040 Suman-akka is waiting for the doctor to call back, and 0:03:59.240 --> 0:04:02.440 it's very likely she has dengue fever. Well, I've been 0:04:02.560 --> 0:04:07.240 using my mosquito repellent like it's cologne, and so it's 0:04:09.040 --> 0:04:11.720 I'm playing it cool on the phone, but this is 0:04:11.800 --> 0:04:16.560 me secretly terrified. Not so much about the diseases though 0:04:16.920 --> 0:04:21.280 dengue and COVID are definitely not great, but more how 0:04:21.320 --> 0:04:24.440 I'm going to manage these interviews. If they speak English, 0:04:24.480 --> 0:04:25.465 I'm fine going alone. 0:04:25.464 --> 0:04:25.719 He speaks Hindi. 0:04:25.920 --> 0:04:35.080 Huh, he only speaks Hindi. This is a problem because meri hindi bahut karab AKA, 0:04:35.400 --> 0:04:40.200 my Hindi as shit. So I panic and then I 0:04:40.240 --> 0:04:44.760 have an idea. What if her son plays translator for me? 0:04:45.240 --> 0:04:48.400 And I realized this is a ridiculous question. But for 0:04:48.560 --> 0:04:50.719 the Nadi guy, is there any way I could take 0:04:50.839 --> 0:04:54.120 Arjun with me. Arjun, who's a few years younger than me, 0:04:54.520 --> 0:04:59.600 was always a golden child. He was handsome, sensitive, artistic, 0:04:59.720 --> 0:05:02.160 and musical. But I lost track of him in our 0:05:02.160 --> 0:05:05.400 twenties when he moved to Dubai and started a career there. 0:05:06.360 --> 0:05:10.320 And then there was this period where he fully disappeared, 0:05:11.279 --> 0:05:14.760 this dark spot which our family doesn't really talk about. 0:05:15.040 --> 0:05:19.679 We'll have to ask him. Yeah, you just call him, Yeah, 0:05:20.160 --> 0:05:27.320 that could be nice. 0:05:28.560 --> 0:05:30.839 The rain pommels the city as I take a cabin, 0:05:31.120 --> 0:05:35.280 but I'm happy to see the monsoon. It's both wet 0:05:35.400 --> 0:05:40.040 and sunny outside, and everything smells green and earthy as 0:05:40.040 --> 0:05:43.840 the rain continues to fall. In the lobby, the hotel 0:05:43.880 --> 0:05:47.840 doors are open, and if you look just right between 0:05:47.880 --> 0:05:51.159 the swaying ponds and the mist, you can spot the 0:05:51.200 --> 0:05:55.880 Arabian Sea. I'm fiddling with my recording equipment when I 0:05:55.920 --> 0:05:57.041 spot Arjun walking in. 0:05:57.041 --> 0:05:57.049 Doing good? 0:05:57.049 --> 0:05:57.069 I'm brilliant. How are you? 0:05:57.069 --> 0:05:57.075 Good! 0:05:57.075 --> 0:05:57.099 Shall we sit for a minute? 0:05:57.099 --> 0:05:57.119 Yeah, yeah, totally. 0:06:01.800 --> 0:06:04.640 I can't tell you how happy I am to see him. 0:06:04.720 --> 0:06:09.040 We're both grayer, both dads. Now, after a quick embrace, 0:06:09.200 --> 0:06:12.080 I tell him about the chaos that's welcomed me, how 0:06:12.120 --> 0:06:13.880 he saved me, because 0:06:14.279 --> 0:06:16.839 I feel like that's my entire trip, is like everything's 0:06:16.839 --> 0:06:17.960 falling apart slowly. 0:06:18.360 --> 0:06:22.800 Do You know, the charm of India is that even 0:06:22.839 --> 0:06:27.400 if everything's breaking, now everything's fine. You know, everyone has 0:06:27.400 --> 0:06:30.440 a very nice, relaxed kind of attitude like this happens. 0:06:30.600 --> 0:06:31.120 Yeah, Well, 0:06:31.160 --> 0:06:32.680 you can't take life so seriously. 0:06:33.200 --> 0:06:38.120 There's a phrase in India, chalta hai, which loosely translates to 0:06:38.720 --> 0:06:42.479 don't worry things happen. You hear it a lot because 0:06:42.720 --> 0:06:46.720 India is unbridled. No matter how much you try to 0:06:46.760 --> 0:06:50.120 will it, it runs on its own schedule. And that's 0:06:50.120 --> 0:06:53.560 wonderfully easy to embrace when you're on vacation or not 0:06:53.640 --> 0:06:57.280 responsible for what happens. But it's a little more difficult 0:06:57.279 --> 0:06:59.840 when you're on an impossible quest to determine what you 0:07:00.040 --> 0:07:02.279 should and shouldn't believe for the rest of your life, 0:07:02.320 --> 0:07:05.320 and you've given yourself two weeks to do that. But 0:07:06.400 --> 0:07:09.080 that's why people come to India right, to go on 0:07:09.160 --> 0:07:13.560 some sort of spiritual retreat and find themselves. God, I'm 0:07:13.720 --> 0:07:16.760 such a cliche. The only thing I can hope for 0:07:16.920 --> 0:07:20.600 now is that Dr Kumar is going to be right twice. 0:07:21.600 --> 0:07:23.880 You cannot fail. Let's put it as that. 0:07:25.200 --> 0:10:17.958 From Kaleidoscope and I Heart Podcasts. I’m Mangesh Hattikudur. Welcome to Skyline Drive. Chapter one. Straight from Shiva’s mouth. This is Bombay. As a kid, Bombay is where I used to start and end every trip to India… midnight arrivals and 2am feasts with relatives who’ve been waiting years to see us. The world was bigger then, harder to wrap your arms around. Flights to India took 22 hours with multiple layovers and refueling stops in New York, then Paris, then Cairo, then Delhi… and only then, Bombay. And it was expensive. We’d save up until we could go back, and every trip was an event. This is the library. It’s under my aunt’s apartment in Chembur, and it’s where I used to borrow old comics and Mad Magazines. And the gymkhana where I learned to play snooker. This is Xaviers, where my dad studied, and then didn’t, in his more delinquent years. This is the disco where I learned to dance, and Khyber, where my parents went on their first date. Bombay has always felt like my city. In New York, people correct me when I say Bombay, but Indians never do. Still, I toggle between the names, depending on my mood. Driving through the city, it feels like an old friend whose path has veered from your own. Like you don’t quite see eye to eye anymore, but you’re also not around each other for long enough to make a thing of it. The thing is, I still feel my dad here, like a fog that descended on this city ages ago and refused to burn off. [Sound: busy Bombay street with traffic] Arjun and I are standing on a street corner in the Santa Cruz neighborhood of Bombay, waiting to step into the nadi shop that my aunt Suman somehow located for us. From the outside, the place looks tiny and nondescript. Something you’d overlook if you weren’t hunting for it. 0:10:17.958 --> 0:10:17.959 How would you describe it, since you're not from here? 0:10:45.920 --> 0:10:53.400 There's a fleet of rickshaws going by us, right. And uh, and the rain has stopped now, but there are tons of puddles. 0:10:53.760 --> 0:10:59.360 And lots of cow shit. And the cows seem to have moved on. 0:11:00.000 --> 0:11:00.143 Even in central Bombay, cows own the road. 0:11:00.143 --> 0:11:00.159 And, uh, and we're gonna walk into this place to see the nadi. Do you know anything about nadi? 0:11:00.159 --> 0:11:18.320 This will be my first experience too. But there's a lot of fortune telling that happens in India, and some of it can be pretty authentic, though the charlatans are much more in number. 0:12:18.520 --> 0:12:18.718 The funny thing about these nadi shops is that as soon as people tell you to go to one, they’ll also tell you how many fake ones there are. But this place is well-regarded, so I’m hopeful. We walk through the doorway, leave our shoes in a dusty two-foot by two-foot vestibule, and then enter reception barefoot. I don’t know what I was expecting, maybe a wall full of scrolls? Maybe big brass sculptures of little known deities and saints? Or maybe just some wall art? Instead we’re standing in a tiny, poorly lit box; a couple of benches pressed up against the walls and a desk facing the door. We give our name to the man pottering at the desk, and then… we just wait. 0:12:18.718 --> 0:12:18.719 Ah, five, ten minutes. 0:12:18.719 --> 0:12:18.719 Of course, of course. 0:12:18.719 --> 0:14:51.554 The nadi reader, Mukesh-ji, peeks out from behind a wall to tell us he’s doing his morning prayers. He asks us if we’d like water or tea while we wait.How incredible would it be if the first astrologer I met in India located an instruction manual for the rest of my life? What if the leaves hiding in his archive actually contain my life’s purpose? I’m genuinely giddy. The prayers take longer than ten minutes, but sub chalta hai… “it all works.” We get ushered into an even tinier room, though this one actually has personality. It’s bright lime green, with a couple of temple calendars on the wall. Then Mukesh walks in with an armful of wooden bundles. 0:14:51.554 --> 0:15:00.824 So these are a whole bunch of scrolls. 0:15:00.824 --> 0:15:08.245 Actually, [speaks in Hindi]... 0:15:08.245 --> 0:15:23.793 Mukesh places the scrolls on his desk, and lets us inspect them. 0:15:23.793 --> 0:15:33.316 Oh, wow. It's engraved. It’s beautiful. 0:15:33.316 --> 0:17:21.395 I’ve been calling them scrolls, but that feels like the wrong word. Have you ever seen those Pantone booklets with pages that fan out? These are almost like an ancient version of that, but longer, made of very thin sheets. Each scroll is maybe three to four inches wide, and about a foot and a half long, and they’re stacked and bound, with maybe thirty or forty per booklet. As we marvel at the tiny lines of text etched across them, Mukesh explains the origins. 0:17:21.395 --> 0:17:33.026 And what, uh, these are, these are palm leaves. 0:17:33.026 --> 0:17:36.285 Palm leaves. 0:17:36.285 --> 0:17:39.081 Just- wow. 0:17:39.081 --> 0:18:55.137 The leaves, he tells us, were etched in the 18th century, when a family made copies of the original millenia-old predictions. The engravings were laborious, and the script is tiny, but these scrolls have lasted because the caretakers meticulously rub them with oil once a year to preserve them. Here’s Arjun translating. 0:18:55.137 --> 0:19:50.196 Basically, Sir said that this is coming from Tamil Nadu, where Tamil is the oldest language in the world. And it's coming from the Siddha tradition. The siddhas are some of the oldest keepers of knowledge, according to India. 0:19:50.196 --> 0:21:52.294 Mukesh also tells us that these nadi shastras, or these sacred prophecies, have a mythological provenance. Lord Shiva in all his wisdom shared the knowledge with the goddess Parvati, his wife, who then passed it on to Lord Brahma, who passed the knowledge from the gods to the sages and then finally, to the priests. To me it sounds like a game of celestial telephone, but Mukesh-ji tells us these scrolls are less prone to human error than traditional astrology. Because the words inscribed here come straight from God… 0:21:52.294 --> 0:22:18.932 So he is only the reader, but the information is directly available and cannot be soiled by human touch as such. 0:22:18.932 --> 0:24:03.454 Mukesh tells us he’s been doing this for twenty-nine years. He shows us photos on his phone of him with clients—people he asks us not to share, but they include some of India’s biggest politicians and most famous scientists. He stresses that he’s a humble man. He’s just a reader providing answers for people in need. And I believe him. Then he gently reaches for my thumb, rolls it across a pad of ink, and he presses it onto a sheet of paper. 0:24:03.454 --> 0:24:35.519 He said the Rishis, they gave us a methodology directly relating to the thumbprint for which there are one hundred and eight divisions. 0:24:35.519 --> 0:26:48.795 Basically, the whorls on my finger will give the librarians a clue as to where my leaf might be. There are thousands and thousands of these bundles of scrolls in the back, and they’re all carefully organized. Sometimes, he says, the process can take fifteen minutes. Sometimes it takes months. He also comments on my aunt’s absence. He says part of the reason she fell ill was that she wasn’t meant to be here today. Sometimes people have car accidents trying to get here. Others apparently get Dengue. But since I’ve made it into this room, he tells me this is fate. 0:26:48.795 --> 0:27:43.660 Life is such that at the end of the day, this is earth. There will be problems. He said that you must remain in your mind and your heart quiet. Problems will come, problems will go. So try and stay calm. But it is destiny sometimes. 0:27:43.660 --> 0:33:15.587 I stare at the ink on my thumb, remembering this weird fact from my days at Mental Floss: that koalas have fingerprints that can be mistaken for humans. I laugh to myself, wondering if my scroll could be mistaken for a koala’s. If Mukesh-ji comes back and tells me that I’ll enjoy napping in trees for eighteen hours a day, or feasting on eucalyptus in my older age, I’ll know exactly what went wrong. It’s the type of dumb joke I’d share with Suman-akka, but it’s too dumb to make in this room. Over the next three weeks that I’m in India, Mukesh will look, and he’ll keep touching base, but he won’t find my scroll. [Music: RAK, “Local Kaiyye”] Chapter two. The thing that matters. Language is curious in how it informs and reflects ideals. The way my family talks is gentle. The dialect we speak is sing-songy. My old roommate Lisako used to tell me it was like butter when she heard me talking to my mom on the phone. But if it’s sweet and overly polite, it’s also not direct. My dad didn’t often talk about the sad things. Or the hard things. Often he’d skip over the specifics and allude to difficulties in terms that were vague, but capacious. So if he were to discuss my cousin Arjun, he might say: “It was so hard what he went through. It’s really good that he’s back now.” Which is insufficient. My cousin Arjun is back now. And of course I’d heard the whispers. But he told me his story. 0:33:15.587 --> 0:33:28.757 So I'm also gonna try and catch you up in a nutshell. 0:33:28.757 --> 0:33:42.411 It involves him building townships in the Ivory Coast. 0:33:42.411 --> 0:33:55.611 If you’re ever in Ivory Coast, never SAY Ivory Coast. 0:33:55.611 --> 0:33:57.970 Côte de- 0:33:57.970 --> 0:33:59.860 Yeah. 0:33:59.860 --> 0:34:17.598 And then coming back to Dubai to help sort a multi-million dollar deal. 0:34:17.598 --> 0:34:38.912 Yeah. I actually shifted to the Middle East. Everyone was like, what's wrong with you? 0:34:38.912 --> 0:35:01.192 It involves a reneged transaction. And him taking the fall for someone else’s carelessness. 0:35:01.192 --> 0:35:55.301 I called up and I said, can I come back now that I've sent you all money to clear everything? And they said, Ah, come on back, there's no problem, you sent the money, you've cleared everything. I came back and I got arrested. 0:35:55.301 --> 0:36:14.545 It’s him being thrown in some of the region’s worst and most violent prisons. 0:36:14.545 --> 0:36:29.058 And I've been through multiple jails. Yeah. Tossed around. 0:36:29.058 --> 0:36:47.876 And pretending to be a Buddhist, so he wouldn’t be killed for being a Hindu. 0:36:47.876 --> 0:37:06.005 Many of them were petty criminals, but a lot of them were knife murderers. 0:37:06.005 --> 0:37:12.213 It is a story of trauma. 0:37:12.213 --> 0:37:30.149 I kind of collapsed, mentally, spiritually, psychologically, everything. 0:37:30.149 --> 0:37:42.120 And finding a guru who nurtured his resiliency. 0:37:42.120 --> 0:38:05.620 So the guru actually can identify within you whether you are ready or you're still holding back. 0:38:05.620 --> 0:38:14.023 And it’s the story of a miracle. 0:38:14.023 --> 0:38:26.765 When I came out, I had had malaria for fifty days. 0:38:26.765 --> 0:38:28.691 Wow. 0:38:28.691 --> 0:38:50.865 Without medication. There was no practical reason in the world I should have in my life. 0:38:50.865 --> 0:38:54.726 And another. 0:38:54.726 --> 0:39:34.369 My sentence disappeared. They had to let me go because they didn't know whatever they were doing with the person that didn't have any record of any jail sentence. 0:39:34.369 --> 0:43:27.457 Some of our chats I taped, some of them I didn’t, but I know he could have died in prison, from beatings or malaria or anything. He would have been there forever, except somehow his guru told him his court records would disappear, and they did. The guru assured him the jails would release him, which they did. He found himself under house arrest as the courts tried to find his records, and then the guru told him if he wanted a new life, he needed to make his way home. That he would be protected, but he needed to flee, and take any help he could to get back to India. So, he ran, hid, and waited until the same person he’d taken the fall for arranged for his escape from the Middle East. And one night, in darkness, he was stuffed into the bed of a truck, crammed in with other terrified bodies—people he didn’t know and would never meet again—and trafficked across borders until he found his way home. And now it’s him, being here in India, with me. 0:43:27.457 --> 0:43:48.316 And still I had come out alive once again, you know, cheating death too many times. 0:43:48.316 --> 0:44:17.179 It is a way to tell a story without telling a story. It is vague, and capacious, and insufficient. But he is back now. 0:44:17.179 --> 0:44:27.892 (laughing) How are you? I’m brilliant. 0:44:27.892 --> 0:49:14.521 And it’s the thing that matters. [Music: Ahmer, “Rov”] Chapter three. Believe me. Despite Mukesh’s reputation, I had struck out in Bombay. But luckily, I’d come with a back-up plan: to make a pilgrimage to Chennai. The truth is, I don’t know anything about Chennai. I’ve never been, and mostly, people in my family have warned me there’s no reason to go—not because of anything cultural or political. It just comes down to the weather. Everyone complains about the intense heat and humidity. But Chennai, located in the South Indian state of Tamil Nadu, is special in terms of nadi. According to the story, when the rishis, or holy men, received the wisdom of the gods, they transcribed it onto leaves. And those leaves were protected by generations of South Indian kings. At some point, these manuscripts ended up in a library in Tanjore, also in Tamil Nadu. And while some of the copies were loaned out to other cities like Delhi or Mumbai, the majority of the “authentic” nadi centers stayed local, within driving distance of Chennai. My friend and story editor Mark has agreed to come with me, which is a nice security blanket. And I also invite Arjun. 0:49:14.521 --> 0:49:30.456 Should I, uh, should I get you a ticket to come meet us there? 0:49:30.456 --> 0:49:37.340 I would love that, yeah. 0:49:37.340 --> 0:49:40.298 Perfect. 0:49:40.298 --> 0:49:47.469 And so is Mark coming now? 0:49:47.469 --> 0:51:06.364 For a minute, we thought Mark wasn’t going to make it to India. His visa got backlogged. There was a moment when I wanted to tell him not to worry, chalta hai. But even I’d lost faith by this point. Then thanks to God, or the Indian Embassy, or possibly Dr. Kumar, it was approved right before he was set to leave. 0:51:06.364 --> 0:51:24.777 It'll be fun, I think. I think the three of us hanging out will be fun. 0:51:24.777 --> 0:51:30.273 That'll be so cool. 0:51:30.273 --> 1:01:01.556 Okay, great. [Sound: Female voice, flight announcement, landing at Chennai International Airport domestic terminal] When we land we’re welcomed by our driver, Satish, and an entire town plastered in Chess Olympiad posters featuring a cartoon horse in a dhoti, because apparently Chennai is India’s chess capital. Besides the posters, which are honestly everywhere, I’m surprised by how little language I can follow. I don’t speak a lick of Tamil, the local language here, and neither does Arjun. And the six or seven languages we can cobble together between the two of us don’t help us in the slightest. So it’s funny how alien I feel in a country where I’m normally so at home. Speaking of aliens, I should probably tell you about the strangest person I’ll meet on my entire journey. Between Mumbai and Chennai, I’d stopped off in Bangalore, a town filled with relatives. [Sound: Crowd chatter] My aunt Sheila introduces me to a medicine man who supposedly channels the spirit of Saint Agusthya, and shakes metal keys as he goes into a trance to identify what’s wrong with your body. Saint Agusthya, aside from being the Siddha, or enlightened soul who supposedly brought the nadi leaves to humans by taking dictation from the gods, is also a patron saint of healing. I try to go into this meeting with an open mind. But the healer is a character—probably in his late 50s or early 60s—spry and cocky, with a mischievous smile. Iif I was trying to cast a South Asian leprechaun for an Indian Lucky Charms commercial, he’d be on my shortlist. And even though his accent is unbelievably thick—so thick that I’m working overtime to understand each and every word, I’m captivated by his experience with black magic. As he tells it, a neighbor put a voodoo-like curse on him, and he kept losing weight and balding, and losing weight and balding, and no one could tell him what was wrong with him. Until, sickly thin and robbed of his plumage, he found a talisman buried in his backyard. It was wrapped in rags and hair and blood—all the telltale signs of black magic. And when he burned it and reversed the curse, his neighbors had some of the worst luck ever: losing all their money, their health, even their home. He grins wide when he tells me about this instant karma. I honestly don’t know what to make of the guy—on one hand, my aunt told me that after years of not being able to conceive, it was this man who gave her the herbs and tinctures to finally carry a child. Her story is really powerful, and I’ve heard so many others that he’s helped or cured. But, he also tells me with absolute certainty that Tamil is the greatest language bar none because it’s the oldest—which is true. And the most powerful, which I don’t quite understand, but okay. And the most sophisticated, which I start to chuckle at, because now there are a lot of descriptors being used, and I’m sensing a real air of Tamil-hubris here. Then he brings his argument all together by saying—and this is the strangest part—it only makes sense that Tamil is the language that aliens communicate with. 1:01:01.556 --> 1:01:01.556 Pucka, a hundred percent. 1:01:01.556 --> 1:01:01.556 But- all speak Tamil? 1:01:01.556 --> 1:01:01.557 Tamil. They, their language is Tamil, you know? We will come late, long time to take to find out. 1:01:01.557 --> 1:01:01.559 When I look at him quizzically, trying to understand how exactly we’ve moved from astrology to aliens, he just assures me he’s right. Then he smiles at me like I’m an idiot. Because obviously, aliens speak Tamil. Chapter four. Snake astronauts. 1:01:01.559 --> 1:01:01.559 Satish. 1:01:01.559 --> 1:01:01.559 Yes sir. 1:01:01.559 --> 1:01:01.560 This place name is Kanjipuram. 1:01:01.560 --> 1:01:01.560 Yes sir. 1:01:01.560 --> 1:01:01.561 It has 2000 temples. City of Temples. But yeah, that's where we're off to. Are you gonna record your six o'clock voice? 1:01:01.561 --> 1:01:01.561 Yeah. 1:01:01.561 --> 1:01:01.562 Good mooorrrrning. Sorry. I think I had two of those, uh, coffees this morning. 1:01:01.562 --> 1:01:01.573 [Sound: Street traffic from inside the taxi, traditional Indian music playing from the car radio] It’s six a.m., and it feels so much earlier. We drive off the hotel lot, straight into traffic. And I can only tell we’re past the city limits when the cartoon horse posters disappear. Up until this point, it felt like every advertisement was about chess, but now the billboards are for toothpaste and soaps and clothes and wedding rings. Arjun and I both notice how strange it is that everyone in the ads is incredibly light skinned, and what a mindfuck that must be. But then I stop paying close attention. The drive starts to feel like every drive I’ve taken between cities in India. Stretches of rickety shops. Stretches of vibrant villages with kids playing outside. Long dusty in-betweens dotted with fields and factories, banks and petrol stations. Trees with red and white trunks, painted that way to prevent termites, and also to show poachers that the forestry service is keeping watch. Mark and I are both feeling the jet lag. But Arjun’s two coffees have definitely kicked in. He peppers us with questions about life in the States, about recent Supreme Court Cases. He talks about India, and all the miracles he’s witnessed that have made him a true believer. And then he says this. 1:01:01.573 --> 1:01:01.575 If you study Hindi, Hindu Vedic texts, you'll understand that there's a lot of interaction between snake culture and human culture. And, um, there's a lot of snake worship that happens in India. 1:01:01.575 --> 1:01:01.581 Okay. So. I’m going to pause right here to say, I don’t know what’s going on with all this snake talk. But they keep coming up, again and again, and it feels like it should mean something. The way George, in our last episode, saw a snake as a sign that he could be good to himself. That he could shed his trauma and transform. The way my mom experienced snakes as a curse, something she had to transcend with mysterious prayers. And now Arjun is talking about how he’s read early Hindu texts about snakes as superior beings, carriers of a greater wisdom. And he starts talking about one account he read, from a mystic who claims to have seen these astral snakes. 1:01:01.581 --> 1:01:01.581 He said that his guru got him to meet one of the incoming astronauts. Space snake astronauts. 1:01:01.581 --> 1:01:01.582 (laughing) Uh-huh. 1:01:01.582 --> 1:01:01.582 Yeah, as I said, it’s- 1:01:01.582 --> 1:01:01.582 Yeah. It feels unbelievable. 1:01:01.582 --> 1:01:01.582 It is unbelievable. It’s- 1:01:01.582 --> 1:01:01.583 But just the idea of a snake astronaut is, ahh. 1:01:01.583 --> 1:01:01.583 Snake astronaut? 1:01:01.583 --> 1:01:01.583 Yeah. Well, I mean- 1:01:01.583 --> 1:01:01.583 Like a traveler, essentially. 1:01:01.583 --> 1:01:01.586 A traveler. He doesn't have to wear a space suit. And when you read the book, he says it’s not possible for me to explain what exactly I saw, but the snakes are very different than what you all imagine in your head, and all I can describe to you is it was blue and glowing. 1:01:01.586 --> 1:01:01.589 In my cursory understanding of Hindu and Buddhist cosmology, these serpent-like beings rule over three planes filled with multiple planets, and they are worshiped as the keepers of both incredible treasure and concealed wisdom. “Treasure texts,” as one book puts it. As we drive further away from Chennai, they’re a harbinger of what we’re about to learn. 1:01:01.589 --> 1:01:01.590 The snakes don't rule over hell. They rule over a different set of planets, and they're supposed to be very opulent creatures. Who- 1:01:01.590 --> 1:01:01.591 Is this in this book, or is this a different book? 1:01:01.591 --> 1:01:01.593 Mark, who’s been quiet this whole time, perks up at this talk of snake astronauts. He has so many questions, about the origins, about how much Arjun could possibly believe in this… but he mostly just saves his commentary for later. 1:01:01.593 --> 1:01:01.593 And it's like, yeah, that's the problem that I have with this. 1:01:01.593 --> 1:01:01.593 The hangup. 1:01:01.593 --> 1:01:01.595 That's the issue that I have. Whether or not they wear spacesuits. First of all, let me imagine that snake astronauts wear spacesuits. 1:01:01.595 --> 1:01:01.612 Before long we realize we’re in Kanjipuram. The temple town is famous for its beautiful shrines and architecture, along with its saris—gorgeous bolts of rich silk, embroidered with thread dipped in gold. I sit up to look at the surroundings, noticing little altars side by side with banana stands, when all of a sudden Satish turns and we pull up to one of the most gorgeous temples I’ve ever seen. It towers over the city, and I crane my neck to see where its crown touches the sky. I later learn it’s called Ekambareswarar Temple—records of its initial structure date back to 300 BCE. And it’s stunning, like a 60 meter tall ziggurat, except instead of a giant blocky pyramid, it has 11 stories of relief work, with intricately carved pillars and depictions of myths and avatars. If the greatest churches and cathedrals are meant to fill you with awe, to make you feel humbled in the presence of such great beauty, then this temple does the trick. I can’t wait to see the inside—to meet the temple leaf readers! But as soon as I try to hop out, Satish motions me to stay inside. He gets out and gestures and talks in Tamil to a man nearby. The man shakes his head. It’s clear we’re in the wrong place. So Satish jumps back in, and then, we drive. And drive. Fifteen minutes later, we’re parked in this dusty lot, in front of a cinder block wall in what feels like the middle of nowhere. If there wasn’t a big yellow sign outside declaring that this was a house of astrology, I would have assumed it was a storage facility, or maybe a clinic. Whatever it is, it’s no eleven-story carved temple. Chapter five. The waiting game. We swat mosquitos and reapply repellant. We make idle conversation. We look at our phones, like kids in a car asking over and over “are we there yet?” I walk from the patio into the little reception to see if we can get started. Arjun goes in a few times too. After a few hours of waiting, they finally take my thumbprint. 1:01:01.612 --> 1:01:01.612 Your name, sir? 1:01:01.612 --> 1:01:01.612 Mangesh. 1:01:01.612 --> 1:01:01.612 Mangesh? 1:01:01.612 --> 1:01:01.612 Mangesh. 1:01:01.612 --> 1:01:01.613 That’s an Indian name. 1:01:01.613 --> 1:01:01.613 Yeah, I’m Indian. I mean, born in America. 1:01:01.613 --> 1:01:01.613 And your father’s name? 1:01:01.613 --> 1:01:01.613 My father's name is Umesh. 1:01:01.613 --> 1:01:01.614 Umesh. All Indian names, sir. You are not a foreigner, sir, you are Indian. 1:01:01.614 --> 1:01:01.624 They put us in the queue, and then we wait some more. Every ten or fifteen minutes someone’s name is called, and one of the men—because it’s weirdly almost all men here—a mix of middle-aged business owners, and people who look anxious to get married, will disappear inside. When it’s finally our turn, we follow the receptionist to the second level. Despite the thatched roof, it’s much more modern up here. And welcoming. There are these sliding doors with little enclosures where people are doing one on ones. Arjun, Mark and I squeeze into a room. And when our man finally walks in, he’s wearing vibuthi, these three stripes across his forehead applied with sacred ash, often associated with priests. He also has a big pile of scrolls in his arms. Now, this is going to be hard to follow, but he asks if I speak Tamil, and then in broken English he tells us he needs to find my palm leaf first. He indicates the scrolls are like a card catalog: Your thumbprint helps you find your scroll, your scroll helps you find your full horoscope, which is also hidden somewhere in the stacks in the back. 1:01:01.624 --> 1:01:01.625 I am reading one, one, okay. I am reading father name, mother named. First your palm leaf we confirm. 1:01:01.625 --> 1:01:01.633 Our reader starts reading the Tamil off the scroll. He asks: Your father’s dead and mother living? I respond yes. They’re looking for an exact match… the perfect card in the card catalog… and each time the details of the scroll don’t line up with my life, he slaps it to the back of the bundle, and moves on to the next. You are married and living with your wife? Yes. Your mother had two marriages ever? No. [Sound: leaf thumping on the table] Smack. The leaf goes into the back of the pile. Sometimes, when he starts reading a leaf and sees it doesn’t match, he doesn’t even ask. He just moves it to the back. And the sorting keeps going. He asks if I’m forty-five, and I just laugh. I’m enjoying this all, feeling like there’s real momentum. I tell him no, I’m forty-two. We keep going. Some of it gets confusing, like, he asks if I have two sons. 1:01:01.633 --> 1:01:01.633 Two children, you have? 1:01:01.633 --> 1:01:01.633 I have two children. 1:01:01.633 --> 1:01:01.633 Two male children. 1:01:01.633 --> 1:01:01.633 No. 1:01:01.633 --> 1:01:01.635 I mean, I have a son and one kid who’s non-binary. He slaps it to the back of the pile. But I’m a little dizzy trying to stay on top of his accent and trying to make sure I’m answering the questions correctly, until, he says this. 1:01:01.635 --> 1:01:01.636 You have only one sister? No brother? 1:01:01.636 --> 1:01:01.636 I have one sister, no brother. 1:01:01.636 --> 1:01:01.636 Sister unmarried? 1:01:01.636 --> 1:01:01.636 Yeah. Yes. 1:01:01.636 --> 1:01:01.636 Married by engagement? 1:01:01.636 --> 1:01:01.636 Yes. 1:01:01.636 --> 1:01:01.637 You’re married. Living with your wife? 1:01:01.637 --> 1:01:01.637 Yes. 1:01:01.637 --> 1:01:01.637 No brother. Only one sister? 1:01:01.637 --> 1:01:01.637 Yes. 1:01:01.637 --> 1:01:01.638 Sister married- unmarried. 1:01:01.638 --> 1:01:01.638 Mm-hmm. 1:01:01.638 --> 1:01:01.638 You are married and living with your wife? 1:01:01.638 --> 1:01:01.638 Mm-hmm. 1:01:01.638 --> 1:01:01.638 Father dead, the mother living? 1:01:01.638 --> 1:01:01.638 Mm-hmm. 1:01:01.638 --> 1:01:01.639 You are in private job, working? 1:01:01.639 --> 1:01:01.643 And bingo, that is it! He’s found it! After fifteen hours of being on planes, two weeks of hunting through stacks in Mumbai, another hourlong flight, a two-hour drive, and three hours of waiting on a humid patio that would give most steam rooms an inferiority complex, we see this man for twenty minutes, and… he just finds it. Arjun thinks I’m blessed. Mark looks more skeptical. And the three of us, we file downstairs. 1:01:01.643 --> 1:01:01.643 So what happens now? Do we know? 1:01:01.643 --> 1:01:01.644 So the tough part is done, which is he had to be matched. We weren't able to get him matched in Bombay. They didn't, they couldn't find him. 1:01:01.644 --> 1:01:01.644 Yeah. 1:01:01.644 --> 1:01:01.645 And now you've got the real deal. So now the fun will be, that'll be broadcasting to America your future. 1:01:01.645 --> 1:01:01.650 [Music: Heems, “Al Q8a”] Chapter six. Son of a milkman. [Music: Ahmer, “Saladin”] We wait outside a little more. And then we’re called in, and walked through this long hallway to a room in the back which faces onto a courtyard. The complex is bigger than I’d realized, with places to do pujas, and with rooms to rent. As we sit down, Mr. Kumar, the same man from reception, double checks that this is the right file. He goes through some details about my thumb, that I’m a Brahmin, that I was born on May first. And then he reads my file. 1:01:01.650 --> 1:01:01.651 You were born in good family. You were born in a good family… 1:01:01.651 --> 1:01:01.653 I’m listening keenly, but nothing here is interesting. He says my mother may get ill, but medicines will help. He says my sister’s engagement has already taken place, and in the near future she will get married. 1:01:01.653 --> 1:01:01.654 Your sister's marriage will take this- your sister will be enjoying her life with her husband. 1:01:01.654 --> 1:01:01.661 But here’s the thing. While we’re sitting in this room, I have one of those Kaiser Soze moments from The Usual Suspects. In the whole scroll section, I’d given away all my details. Is your mom’s name Chitra? No, it’s Lalita. Is your father living? No, he’s passed. Is your sister married? Well, she’s engaged. And as I realize this, everything from here on becomes tainted. Like, the predictions are so mundane: You’ll have a good life. You’ll get sick. You’ll have medicine and get better. Your children will have a good education. You’ll make decent money. You’ll have good relationships with others. I mean, it’s just a mishmash of vague things that happen to everyone, and details I’ve already confirmed. In some ways, the most surprising thing he says is this line. 1:01:01.661 --> 1:01:01.661 You will buy a luxurious car. 1:01:01.661 --> 1:01:01.661 (laughing) 1:01:01.661 --> 1:01:01.661 A new car. 1:01:01.661 --> 1:01:01.664 I laugh because in some ways this is both the most ridiculous thing and the most specific thing about me. To date, I have never had a new car or a luxurious one. Since high school, I’ve just driven a series of beaters. And man, I’d love a car that starts when you want it to! Anyway, the rest of the reading is more of the same. 1:01:01.664 --> 1:01:01.664 If you want to know anything else… 1:01:01.664 --> 1:01:01.666 Basically, he’s upselling us. What I got was the starter pack. We’ve already paid for this part. And we put down a healthy tip on top, on his insistence. 1:01:01.666 --> 1:01:01.667 You don’t take cards, right? Or you don’t take, like, Google Pay or anything like that? 1:01:01.667 --> 1:01:01.667 Google Pay, yeah, Google Pay okay. 1:01:01.667 --> 1:01:01.669 Okay, I’ll figure that out, then. And now, if we want to know more about any specific part of my life—the section of the leaf that deals with my career, or my health, or my kids, or one of like nine more things, we will need to pay more. 1:01:01.669 --> 1:01:01.670 -in the other building, the building there. 1:01:01.670 --> 1:01:01.670 There’s an ATM there? Okay. [Music: Raaginder, “Butterflies”] 1:01:01.670 --> 1:01:01.671 I step outside to chat with Mark. 1:01:01.671 --> 1:01:01.671 How are you feeling? 1:01:01.671 --> 1:01:01.671 Confused. 1:01:01.671 --> 1:01:01.674 The truth is, I was more than confused. I was feeling deflated. After that experience in Mumbai, we had spent so much time trying to figure out the perfect nadi place to visit. I’d come all this way and dragged Mark and Arjun here because this is where I thought I had the best chance of finding my fortune. And then, nothing. 1:01:01.674 --> 1:01:01.674 Feels like kind of a bust. 1:01:01.674 --> 1:01:01.674 Yeah. 1:01:01.674 --> 1:01:01.675 It's like, I don't expect grand revelations every time- 1:01:01.675 --> 1:01:01.678 There’s a line I didn’t catch on tape, but it’s stuck with me. Mark says: You already got your miracle of astrology. You can’t expect a second one. You can’t expect it every time. When I go back in, the reader opens the chapter about my last life. He says I had been born the son of a milk man. In the milk business. You know—in a typical milk vendor family. 1:01:01.678 --> 1:01:01.679 He was born in, it is called, Uttar Pradesh, state of India. He was born in a milk vendor family. 1:01:01.679 --> 1:01:01.680 He tells me that I slept around, and I think he’s saying I gave my wife STDs? 1:01:01.680 --> 1:01:01.680 You gave problem to your wife. You did minimum karma in your last life. 1:01:01.680 --> 1:01:01.688 I also treated my parents horribly and didn’t support them, I cheated my business partners. And I’m nodding vigorously, and enjoying this… and weirdly, this part is kind of the realest to me! Like, every time someone tells me they’ve seen a psychic or a reader, or had some revelation in a dream, they were a king or queen in their past life. And to me it’s like, there aren’t that many kings in history. How can all of us have been kings?! So, weirdly, this is finally a storyline I can buy into. Being here, smiling at this story, it reminds me of this thing the writer Shruti Ravindran, who grew up in Chennai, once wrote. How she loves to read and reread her horoscope because to her it’s “like a very soothing work of fan fiction.” And she told me about how sometimes the horoscope feels accurate and sometimes it doesn’t. 1:01:01.688 --> 1:01:01.689 She will be a girl of a restless nature. She will be a girl of a self-destructive timidity. 1:01:01.689 --> 1:01:01.691 But as she puts it, “During times of upheaval, it reassures me to read these typewritten pages; to be reminded that one long-dead man took the measure of my life, and said it was not all bad.” 1:01:01.691 --> 1:01:01.692 She will brood over the memories of the past, she will brood on fancied slight. Very unflattering, but also like, really specific, and I’m afraid to say super accurate. 1:01:01.692 --> 1:01:01.716 I do love this milkman stuff, not because I believe it, but because I love that someone has created a new mythology for me; a new origin story for the problems I’m facing. And now, they’ve given me a new way to remedy those problems, too– albeit through a few too many visits to temples for my liking! So it’s pure fun, but when I think about it later, it won’t scratch the itch I actually have: because, like Shruti, I wanted to walk into this shop and let someone take the measure of my life. [Music: Jelo, “Demon”] I had hoped that they would find my leaf, and look me in the eye, and with complete certainty, tell me that it wouldn’t be all bad. And although I made the journey here, and although those words were said, in the end I just couldn’t believe them. Chapter seven. Spinning. The drive back from the Nadi shop is somehow so long. And I feel the clock ticking. We have maybe five days left on this trip, and I have not felt the magic here. Nothing has brought me closer to believing. Arjun senses my tension. Mark too. I suggest to Mark maybe we should race to Varnasi, in Northern India, even though my astrologer friend Pete warned me it was the Disneyland of astrology. [Sound: Street traffic from inside car, honking] If we wanted to do something totally crazy, we could, we could actually, like, cut this short and fly to, like, Benares… There’s a university there, and a lot of astrology PhDs, and also conmen, so maybe there’s some fun to be had. Or we could do what the nadi reader told me to do for penance for my sins as a milkman: I could go do an offering at a Hanuman temple. And I have a specific one in mind. My aunt and family lived in this place in Hubli, it's where my grandfather retired. It's called Gin House. I don’t know. I’m just throwing ideas at the wall. We stop for lunch at this place our driver Satish loves—where they serve giant heaping plates of rice on banana leaf, with curries and chutneys ladled on top. We eat with our hands, in the traditional style, shoveling the piping hot food into our mouths. I pair mine with a Thums Up, a spicy Indian Coke of sorts. and while the food fills our bellies, it doesn’t calm my nerves. And I grow increasingly irritated about my journey to the nadi shop. A few days later, when I start reviewing my tape, I realize I’ve missed a crucial detail. A woman I’d interviewed previously, named Malti Das, had walked into a nadi shop a skeptic and walked out a believer not because of what she heard from the reader there, but because of what she saw. 1:01:01.716 --> 1:01:01.720 I was looking very disinterested. So the man asked me, ma'am, can you read Tamil? I said, yes, very well, I can read Tamil. Then he started showing the palm leaf to me after a point. Then he said, does your father's name start with A? He said yes. And then I could see the name written there of my father-in-law, in Tamil. That was when it hit me. And I thought, okay, there is something here. They're not bluffing. 1:01:01.720 --> 1:01:01.723 I feel like an idiot. I hadn’t thought to photograph my leaf. I don’t know if they would have let me, but maybe there was a miracle lurking in there. Not in the prophecy, but in the sorting system. Was there something beautiful I missed? When Mark and I talk about it later at our hotel bar, Mark has a different perspective on the place. [Sound: Busy hotel bar, music and chatter] 1:01:01.723 --> 1:01:01.724 It's basically like a magic trick that we couldn't see the reveal. 1:01:01.724 --> 1:01:01.727 It was like hearing a magic trick. As he puts it, it doesn’t matter if it’s real, because the shop is in the business of hope. I think about how he’s right. There's so many people that come in such desperate situations, right? Like if you hear you're gonna have a comfortable life, you're gonna get a new car and you're gonna like, you know. 1:01:01.727 --> 1:01:01.728 Four to five years, you're gonna get a luxury automobile. 1:01:01.728 --> 1:01:01.728 Yeah, I mean, that probably sustains a lot of people. 1:01:01.728 --> 1:01:01.729 Right. That would be such a big deal to a certain kind of person. 1:01:01.729 --> 1:01:01.735 Chapter eight. Double dose. Months later, my memories of Chennai are a blur. Early mornings, strong coffee, ceiling fans that were no match for the heat. But mostly, it’s just car rides. Hours in a car with Arjun talking about philosophy, and science, and our childhoods. The moments we were too proud. The moments that humbled us. And how we got here. If Bombay felt like an old friend whose path had diverged from my own, then Arjun was a close friend I’d lost and then found again. And it’s funny that he’s here with me, because I forgot that Arjun had been warned by his guru that he should not, at any cost, dabble in astrology… something I’m reminded of when my wife Lizzie calls. 1:01:01.735 --> 1:01:01.735 Hi, Lizzie. 1:01:01.735 --> 1:01:01.736 Wait, I'll put you on speaker. 1:01:01.736 --> 1:01:01.736 Thank you for taking Mangesh around. 1:01:01.736 --> 1:01:01.737 Well, he is my brother at the end of the day and I wasn't gonna abandon him. 1:01:01.737 --> 1:01:01.737 That’s right. What are you gonna do. 1:01:01.737 --> 1:01:01.741 There’s a phrase I grew up using in India: cousin-brother and cousin-sister. In joint families, you grow up thinking of cousins as closer than just a cousin. You tie rakhi to them, or these promise threads that promise love and protection, and you treat your cousins as if they’re siblings—because they are in a way. And the fact that Arjun is here with me now, despite the oceans between us, despite the time that’s passed… 1:01:01.741 --> 1:01:01.742 But having said that, this is my first experience with astrology as well. I was actually warned not to dabble in these kind of, um, subjects. (laughs) 1:01:01.742 --> 1:01:01.743 So Mangesh is subjecting you to things you've been avoiding. You know, tempting you with danger? 1:01:01.743 --> 1:01:01.744 Yeah. Tempting me with taboo subjects. Shame, shame. 1:01:01.744 --> 1:01:01.744 That's right. 1:01:01.744 --> 1:01:01.744 He's the bad influence in my life. 1:01:01.744 --> 1:01:01.753 Arjun has told me what he’s been through, but I can’t imagine it. It’s too horrifying. And I admire him so much. How he’s somehow pulled together his family, and picked up the shards of his life, and how he keeps moving forward with such grace and humility. If my days in Chennai were a blur of endless car rides, the final pitstop was always a seat at the empty hotel bar. Sometimes it was me and Mark, sometimes it was Arjun and me, and occasionally it was the three of us, sitting in a dimly lit patio, shooing away mosquitos as we sipped fresh lime sodas. On the tougher days, I’d cut the soda with gin, and bum a cigarette off of Arjun. And on one of these nights, Arjun told us about his sade sati—the seven and a half years of bad luck, brought on by Saturn, that everyone experiences at some point, according to Vedic astrology. His seven and a half years, he tells us, were considered particularly bad: 1:01:01.753 --> 1:01:01.753 Does everyone experience it? 1:01:01.753 --> 1:01:01.755 Ah, well, I experienced a double sade sati, almost. Mine pretty much came true. So I've had really shit luck, like, really shit luck. 1:01:01.755 --> 1:01:01.757 Until this moment Arjun has never once talked about how difficult this period has been. He’s talked about it matter of factly; he’s talked about embracing the future, but this is the first time he says just how hard his life was. 1:01:01.757 --> 1:01:01.757 But mine ended last year and, uh, I'm still trying to understand- 1:01:01.757 --> 1:01:01.758 The difference? 1:01:01.758 --> 1:01:01.759 The difference, yeah. I'm trying to figure out what went right, and I know there are certain things that have changed. But I can't, I can't feel it in a physical form. 1:01:01.759 --> 1:01:01.759 Yeah. 1:01:01.759 --> 1:01:01.761 That’s crazy. I didn’t realize that- And because this is India, of course, Arjun jokingly links his misfortune back to what he must have done in his past lives. 1:01:01.761 --> 1:01:01.761 I obviously did much more than pass on STDs to one person. 1:01:01.761 --> 1:01:01.799 I mean, Arjun doesn’t believe in astrology. I never asked him to get a reading. But astrology has happened to him—the shadow of that seven and a half years of bad luck has been lurking in the back of his mind. There’s another moment that I can’t stop thinking about from the bar, after I’d turned off my recorder. Mark says, too often, when a story isn’t going right, the impulse is to speed up—to book as many interviews as you can. It’s that old sailor’s adage: If you can’t tie a good knot, tie a lot of them. But Mark encourages the opposite. He says I need to slow down. He says if I’m going to resolve anything about my life, about my dad, it is not going to be with him. Or Arjun. And it’s not going to be through astrology. Astrology was never the point. He tells me to make a pilgrimage to where I feel most connected—to my family, and to my past. To just sit with that experience. And I think about that. I really do. [Music: Ali Saffudin, “Wolivo”] But I don’t listen. Because I’m not thinking clearly. I haven’t been thinking clearly this whole time, this whole show. Instead, I ask Satish to race me across the state. I drag Arjun along. I collect interviews that will not add up to much. [Music: Heems, “Home”] And then, just when my time in India is nearly up, I realize Mark was right. And I spend sixteen hours in a car to find meaning where I should have been looking all along. Thank you so much for not forgetting about our little show. Skyline Drive is a production of Kaleidoscope and iHeart Podcasts. The show is hosted and written by me, Mangesh Hattikudur. And yes, I know this episode was sooo long, but I’m about to make it longer with these credits. Mary Phillips-Sandy is our Supervising Producer. How would we get this show out without Mary? The answer is we would not. Mitra Bonshahi is our delightful producer and conducted the interview with Shruti. Mark Lotto is my excellent story editor, and was such a trouper for suffering with me in India, in a city I knew nothing about. Though I did feed him lots of parathas. This episode was also produced by the insanely talented Anna Rubanova. I don’t know how we could’ve gotten through this much tape without her. Anna, you are a boon to this show. The super sweet Dhruv Shiva Rao hit the streets for this episode and collected extra tape for me. This episode was mixed by my pal at Soundboard. Oh my gosh, the warning, the warning was read by producer extraordinaire Nadia Reiman, who won the first-ever audio Pulitzer along with the team at This American Life. Nadia wants you to listen to TAL’s next episode, but I want you to know she’s a badass. I’ve gotta thank my pal Botany for the theme song and compositions. Also, Azadi Records, how can I thank Azadi enough. Also my friends Himanshu Suri, Peter Matthew Bauer, and Motor Sales. And I can’t forget my pal Rog, aka Lushlife, for lending me his tunes as well. I am dropping a second mixtape with more music from Skyline Drive, volume two, it’ll be in the show links. Please go check it out. Additional production and research support from my love Lizzie Jacobs, Suman “rock around the clock” Bakshi, and my beautiful cousin Arjun Bakshi. Arjun, I love you. The show is Executive Produced from iHeart by my good pals Nikki Ettore and Katrina Norvell. And a shoutout to Nikki’s baby girl Pearl. And also Enzo, Enzo, I have not forgotten about you, buddy. Also, gotta thank my incredible partners at Kaleidoscope: Oz Woloshyn, Kate Osborn, Costas Linos, Vahini Shori. You inspire me every day. Special thanks to Ally, Nathan, Conal, Will, and Bob at iHeart for getting behind this show. Saurabh and Shanta, my kiddos Henry and Ruby, my family everywhere. And as always, a big big thank you to my Amma and my dad, Lalita and Umesh Hattikudur, who I thank my lucky stars for. We have one more episode to go so thank you so much for listening. I can’t tell you how much it means to me.