Astrologer conline
It’s all written in the stars. If you don’t believe this, we have Pakistan’s premier astrologer on TV to prove it.
It’s all written in the stars. If you don’t believe this, we have Pakistan’s premier astrologer on live TV to prove it. She’s the star attraction — if you excuse the pun — on several popular morning-cum-late night talk shows that regale us every day with their highly cerebral and edifying discourses on pressing issues — like which celebrity is consorting with who and how to control your waistline through psychobabble.
This top-notch astrologer — we’ll call her Najma Sitara — looks more like a supermodel than someone who mulls over the arcane arts. She graces each show decked in resplendent, flowing chiffons and ample dabs of powder and lip-gloss. But it’s not just cosmetics that make her glow; she beams with the confidence that comes with being thoroughly competent in your line of work. You see this radiance in young corporate execs and con artists and sometimes in policewallahs after they’ve administered a good dose of chithrol to some hapless chap.
But I digress. This lady, fondling the pearly beads she has dangling in her silky parlour-straightened tresses, coos about how the various confluences of planets and stars and precious stones can alter the course of our lives. She is brimming with zodiac-speak, telling us things about ourselves we’ve never heard of. Of course, being the astral expert that she is, she knows more about our traits and futures than we ever did, so we all defer to her superior judgement and blow-dried hair. Always popular, she receives a barrage of calls on the show. She responds to each with a gracious toss of her locks — her beads winking — and a smug smile.
The calls are fairly typical. A young caller, for instance, anxiously asks about her marriage prospects (her own, not Ms Sitara’s, who, luckily for most of mankind, is already taken). Once basic inquiries are over (the caller’s name, mother’s name, grandmother’s name, aunts’ and uncles’ and wet nurses’ names, exact place, date, hour and position of birth, etc), Ms Sitara consults her esoteric charts and scatters these pearls of astrological wisdom: “Yours is a water sign, which unfortunately is passing under the fiery influence of the sun and Venus. You won’t find a good match for another six-and-a-half months. If you do get married during this period, the inauspiciousness would soon cause the death of your husband through either target-killing or random electrocution, depending on his star and granny’s wedding date. I would advise you to recite the last surah of the first sipara every morning. Wear large emeralds. By the grace of the Almighty, you’ll find a decent husband before you know it.”
To a troubled businessman, she responds: “Business will pick up as soon as your star emerges from the malicious influence of Jupiter’s moons and little green Martians. In exactly five weeks, whatever you touch would turn to gold. However, your wife will have had it by then and run off with another man. You have to wear black opals to prevent that fate while the man in question has to don yellow garnets. Also, recite the last ayat of the first surah and keep watching this show. You’ll soon see better days.”
We should be grateful. With sages like her around, nothing bad can ever happen to our country, no matter what analysts say. All we have to do is wear zircons on our middle fingers and keep tuning into our own Miss Universe, Najma Sitara. We salute you Ma’am! We know it would all be just fine once the country emerges from the evil dark shadow of Uranus.
Published in The Express Tribune, December 26th, 2010.
This top-notch astrologer — we’ll call her Najma Sitara — looks more like a supermodel than someone who mulls over the arcane arts. She graces each show decked in resplendent, flowing chiffons and ample dabs of powder and lip-gloss. But it’s not just cosmetics that make her glow; she beams with the confidence that comes with being thoroughly competent in your line of work. You see this radiance in young corporate execs and con artists and sometimes in policewallahs after they’ve administered a good dose of chithrol to some hapless chap.
But I digress. This lady, fondling the pearly beads she has dangling in her silky parlour-straightened tresses, coos about how the various confluences of planets and stars and precious stones can alter the course of our lives. She is brimming with zodiac-speak, telling us things about ourselves we’ve never heard of. Of course, being the astral expert that she is, she knows more about our traits and futures than we ever did, so we all defer to her superior judgement and blow-dried hair. Always popular, she receives a barrage of calls on the show. She responds to each with a gracious toss of her locks — her beads winking — and a smug smile.
The calls are fairly typical. A young caller, for instance, anxiously asks about her marriage prospects (her own, not Ms Sitara’s, who, luckily for most of mankind, is already taken). Once basic inquiries are over (the caller’s name, mother’s name, grandmother’s name, aunts’ and uncles’ and wet nurses’ names, exact place, date, hour and position of birth, etc), Ms Sitara consults her esoteric charts and scatters these pearls of astrological wisdom: “Yours is a water sign, which unfortunately is passing under the fiery influence of the sun and Venus. You won’t find a good match for another six-and-a-half months. If you do get married during this period, the inauspiciousness would soon cause the death of your husband through either target-killing or random electrocution, depending on his star and granny’s wedding date. I would advise you to recite the last surah of the first sipara every morning. Wear large emeralds. By the grace of the Almighty, you’ll find a decent husband before you know it.”
To a troubled businessman, she responds: “Business will pick up as soon as your star emerges from the malicious influence of Jupiter’s moons and little green Martians. In exactly five weeks, whatever you touch would turn to gold. However, your wife will have had it by then and run off with another man. You have to wear black opals to prevent that fate while the man in question has to don yellow garnets. Also, recite the last ayat of the first surah and keep watching this show. You’ll soon see better days.”
We should be grateful. With sages like her around, nothing bad can ever happen to our country, no matter what analysts say. All we have to do is wear zircons on our middle fingers and keep tuning into our own Miss Universe, Najma Sitara. We salute you Ma’am! We know it would all be just fine once the country emerges from the evil dark shadow of Uranus.
Published in The Express Tribune, December 26th, 2010.