What is Karma? Let Me Show You

Hi.

Have you ever believed in the law of karma?

I didn’t.

Not until I met Muneeswaran.

My name is Yuliet. And this is the story of how my boyfriend, Paolo, and I managed to find our way from Brazil, all the way down to a little town in the south of India – Vaitheeswarankoil – to find out about our past lives.

Can’t pronounce the name of the town, right?

Don’t worry. I still can’t.

So, here’s what happened. Paolo and I met through mutual friends at a party. I was passing through Sao Paulo (yes, Paolo is from Paulo – a fact I never let him forget) on my travels and he’d been brought up there.

We hit it off instantly – he was hit with the travel-bug, and I? I was hit with Cupid’s arrow.

Just a few days later, we began dating and travelling together. Winding our way through the world, a few months later, we found ourselves in Bali, Indonesia. It was there, in Ubud, that we bumped into an Indian girl at a cafe. She was in town for a yoga-teacher training course.

As we chatted, I felt strange. Though I had never been to India, I was sure I had seen her somewhere before. Why did she seem so familiar?

I shared my feelings with her. “I feel the same way too,” she said, laughing. “We must have been connected in a past life.”

Hold up. Past life?

“Oh,” she smiled at my sceptical expression. “You don’t believe in past lives?”

“Well…” I trailed off, not wanting to be rude. I looked to Paolo.

“What she means is that she doesn’t know much about them,” he said, coming to my rescue.

“Okay.” She plucked a napkin from the table and pulled out a pen. “Tell you what. You’re going to India soon, right?”

We nodded.

“Here.” Scribbling something on the napkin, she handed it to us with a flourish. “Go here. Find Agasthiyar Nadi Josiyam. Ask for Muneeswaran. He’ll tell you the rest.”

We looked at her, bewildered. “Girl, you just said a whole bunch of stuff I don’t understand!”

She laughed once more. “I promise you, it’s worth it. Go. If you haven’t believed in karma before, now you will.”

With that mysterious remark, she left.

12 days later, we landed in New Delhi, India. Over the next month, we slowly meandered our way down towards the south until finally, we found ourselves in Vaitheeswarankoil – a tiny nondescript town with just one main street, scattered houses and a couple of restaurants.

Hesitantly, we walked into the first store we came across. A little man with an oily side partition to his hair and spectacles jumped up eagerly when he spotted us.

“Agasthiyar Nadi Josiyam?” Paolo read out haltingly from the napkin.

“Yes, saar, yes,” he said excitedly. “All life prediction?”

“Yes,” I said, amused. “Muneeswaran?”

His face fell. “No, madam.” His voice was considerably less enthused. “Muneeswaran, go straight and first shop next to temple.” He sat back down and began browsing his books brusquely.

We made our way into the blazing sunshine and began walking down the road. As it turned out, every other store was called Agasthiyar Nadi Josiyam! What parallel universe had we landed in?

We finally made it to the big temple at the end of the road. Right next to it was a store whose sign read, ‘Agasthiyar Nadi Josiyam – All Life Reading’.

Paolo smirked. “They really want people to know, huh?”

As soon as we stepped into the store, I experienced a strong jolt up my body. My mind went blank and a veil of darkness descended. What was happening? Was I about to black out?

I had just begun to panic when out of a small room in the back stepped a man – he was my height, dark-skinned and wiry with a small moustache. My head cleared and I knew instantly.

“Muneeswaran.” I held out my hand.

He smiled warmly and shook my hand. “Ah, I see you knowing me.” His voice was husky, like he’d forgotten to clear it and his English, heavily accented. “Please wait here.”

He disappeared into the back room and came back a minute later with a stamp pad and a blank piece of paper. “Put thumb print on paper.”

Paolo and I looked at each other nervously. Why did he want our prints?

Muneeswaran caught our look and smiled. “You know about nadi josiyam?”

“Uhh…no,” Paolo admitted shame-facedly. Why hadn’t we read up before coming here?

“No worry,” replied Muneeswaran kindly. “You put thumb print. I find your leaf from thumb print – no asking your name. All prediction written in old leaf by great sages of India,” he added, at our blank looks.

“Oh… okay,” I said, somewhat awestruck. We pressed our thumbs into the stamp pad and then onto the sheet of paper.

“Super. You waiting here now. I search for your leaf.” So saying, he disappeared into the back room once more.

Paolo and I looked at each other. I didn’t know what we had been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. Finding our prediction “leaf” without even knowing our names? What!

10 minutes later, Muneeswaran appeared. “Found leaf, madam!” He was smiling triumphantly. “Please come in.”

He led us into the back room which was tiny, not more than 10 feet long and perhaps five feet wide. There was a narrow table in front of us with a chair on either side. A third chair hugged the wall beside the table and a single photo of a Hindu god hung above it.

“Please take seat,” said Muneeswaran, as he seated himself on one side of the table. I sat at the other end and Paolo took the third chair.

I felt tingly with anticipation. What was he going to show or tell us?

He reached behind him to pull out of a drawer, a sheaf of dried leaves. Each leaf, I saw, was filled with squiggly lines – writing in a language I didn’t understand.

“Right,” he said. “We begin?”

I smiled. “We begin.”

He closed his eyes, brought his palms together in front of his chest, silently murmuring a prayer. When he opened his eyes, I was startled. They glowed; not in an obvious manner but there was something… more.

“Okay,” he began. In the next couple of minutes, he reeled off a series of questions. What was my date of birth? Was I short-tempered?

It’s been a few years since that day, so I don’t remember the exact questions anymore. As I answered, he kept flipping through his sheaf of leaves, pausing occasionally.

“Right,” he said again, looking down at a leaf. “So… you having one younger brother?”

I was surprised. “Yes, how did you know that?”

I looked over at Paolo and his expression mirrored what I was thinking. Lucky guess.

Muneeswaran smiled. “Hmm. Father name Fernando?”

“Umm…” I was gobsmacked. “Yes.”

“Mother name Rosie. Brother name Xavier. Having one older sister, she die when you was 10 years old because she sick. Her name Maria,” he reeled off, reading straight from the leaf.

My mouth fell open. I sneaked a glance at Paolo who looked equally shell-shocked. How did this tiny store in a tiny town in a far-away country have all these details about my life? On a leaf?

I had just witnessed the beginning of an irreversible transformation.

I won’t tell you what else he said. Some things are too personal to share.

What is karma?

It’s every action of ours. We are either reaping what we have sowed or sowing what we are about to reap.

And that day, in a small room of an equally small town, I learnt a lot about my karmas, past and future. Anyone can predict the future and get away with it at that moment because nobody knows whether it’s a lie or not. But what of the past? Of the innumerable details he revealed that day about the life I had lived so far?

Nobody can lie about the past.

In this life or other lives.

That’s what I learnt. And so did Paolo.

This may seem like an abrupt ending. But to me, it feels like a good place to stop.

Because often, change begins with a jerky, abrupt jolt.