Page 27 of The Love Thief

Leaf after leaf was discarded, and with it, feelings of despair arose.

My misery level was creeping upward as each leaf was discarded.

Finally, at around forty-minutes into the reading, with leaf number thirty-eight, this happened:

“Your mother’s name begins with L or G ?” “Yes.”

“Mother’s first name is L ?” “Yes.”

“Mother’s name has five letters?” “Yes.”

“Mother’s name ends in A?” “Yes.”

“Mother’s name is Laura?” “Yes.”

“Mother has high blood pressure?” “Yes.”

“You were born in September or October?” “Yes.”

“You were born in September?”

“Yes.”

“You were born September twenty?” “Yes.”

“You were born early morning, four or six A.M. ?” “Yes.”

“Maternal grandmother taught you skills you use for a career?” “Yes.”

“You are a graduate?” “Yes.”

“Your work is food?” “Yes.”

“You had recent head injuries?” “Yes.”

“Your name is Holly.” “Yes!”

“Your father is named after a saint?”

Shit.

We were so close to having my leaf. What if this makes them go to another leaf?

Dr. Q piped up and told Babu to tell Guruji to continue.

“Madam Holly doesn’t know the father’s name. What name does the leaf give? What further information does it have about the father?” he asked.

As Babu explained the situation to Guruji, he carefully studied the leaf that I was hoping was my life history.

Guruji and Babu then appeared to have a debate as to what they would or could share with me.

Eventually, Babu said, “Father’s name is Thomas.

Father has three daughters. You are youngest daughter. ”

Holy shit! I have a dad. I have sisters. Does that skinny old leaf have their mobile numbers? I wondered.

At this point, the three men were all in agreement that they had now found my leaf. The actual reading would now begin.

“We want to advise you that you must manage your hunger, or serious health issue will befall you,” said Babu.

“Huh? I have never missed a meal in my life,” I said.

“No, madam, we said you must manage your hunger.”

“Yes, I heard you and I’m telling you I have never missed a meal. I do not have any hunger issues.”

That’s when Dr. Q tapped me lightly on the shoulder and said, “Holly, they are saying anger , they aren’t saying hunger . They say you have anger issues, and if you don’t manage them, you might get sick.”

Oh. I let that sink in for a moment. Anger issues .

. . me? Generally, anger was never my problem, but since my multiple betrayal fiasco, the truth is that in between feeling lonely, broken, and depressed, I had to admit I’d also felt intense anger and rage.

I wrote down in my journal, “Find healthy ways to release anger and get to forgiveness.” Remembering the dream about Barry’s demise in the boiling vat of hot oil, I made a mental note to address my anger issues.

I began to squirm in my seat as they revealed that I had just come out of the most difficult period of my life, which was when they told me, “Madam, you are not in your right mind.” Meaning that I didn’t know my true life purpose.

It was amazing that they were able to describe details of my physical and emotional trauma by reading a tattered ancient palm leaf.

Plus, in that leaf, they said it was predicted I would have this difficult experience because this suffering was karmic debt from my past life.

For the next two hours, they slowly described in detail both my past and a year-by-year highlight of my future that ranged from years where my health would be strong, to when Mom would have challenging health issues.

They told me my good year for buying clothes and jewelry, and a great year for me to buy property.

And the year to avoid having a business partner who would cheat me, and named several years of positive reputation and potential fame.

All in all, they seemed assured that I would lead a good and happy life.

I asked them both if they could explain why I had suffered so much and why my lifelong dreams of a family were not coming true.

Guruji and Babu had a lengthy conversation with much head nodding up and down and side to side going on, when finally Babu asked, “Madam, would you like to know about the past life in which you incurred this karma?”

“Please tell me everything!”

“In your most recent past life, you lived here in Tamil Nadu.

Your name was Arti Nataraj. You were the only daughter of good parents, and you had a mostly happy life with one much older brother who worshipped you as if you were his own child.

You had a better education than most, and you were trained as a healer.

“Unfortunately, you had relations with another man, not your husband. You broke your husband’s heart, and he left you alone and childless.

To redeem yourself, you became a devotee of the Goddess Parvati, wife of Shiva, known as the Goddess of Love, fertility, and family.

You devoted yourself to creating an orphanage for girls that became well known throughout the country.

You are recognized in the history books on this subject as you provided the little girls with love, affection, healthcare, and education,” Babu explained as he looked at me with respect shining through his deep brown eyes.

I managed to not take in this monumental aspect of my past life history and narrowed my questions to one. I asked, “So, are you saying that I won’t marry, and I won’t have children?”

Again Babu and Guruji had a long chat, pointing to various symbols on my leaf, and finally, I was told, “It is not the correct time for this information to be revealed to you. And we suggest that to remove the karmic blocks from your past life, you do the remedy of a Guru Puja,” Babu said.

Dr. Q saw the disappointment as my shoulders slumped and my smile drooped. He asked Guruji when I should come back for the next reading, and they did some calculations and said that in two years’ time, this information could be revealed.

More disappointing news. I would be just past forty in two years.

Was it time to seriously consider freezing some eggs?

My final question for the day was, “Can you explain how to do a Guru Puja?”

“Madam, you shall go to the Thiruvenkadu Temple and bring the following offerings to the priest for the puja: clothing for two ladies and clothing for two men, nine coconuts, and fifty-two kilos of rice,” Babu explained.

Dr. Q furiously scribbled down notes, then, looking up at me, said, “Holly, you are in luck. That temple is less than a half hour from here. I will take you and Maya to the temple and assist you with this.”

A few minutes after my reading was complete, Maya arrived.

We jumped into Dr. Q’s sapphire blue Tata Hexa XT SUV and went to a local market to buy two red saris, two men’s dhoti sets, several giant bags of rice totaling over a hundred pounds, an assortment of fresh fruit, flowers, and nine coconuts.

She was anxious to hear all about my reading, so I leaned forward to get closer to Maya, who was in the front passenger seat.

“Maya, the reading was crazy amazing! I don’t know how they figured it all out with just a thumbprint.

Much of what they knew isn’t available on the internet, even if they tried to search for me.

I was hoping to find out when I would have kids and with whom, but instead, they gave me dreadful news.

According to my palm leaf, I have been childless up until now as punishment for my past life as an unfaithful wife.

While they didn’t say I was a slut, that’s certainly what they inferred.

And that’s why we are headed to the temple now to try to rectify my situation with a Guru Puja,” I said before I screamed as Dr. Q swerved to avoid hitting a cow in the road.

Dr. Q apologized profusely for the near miss as I continued to share with Maya. “The most startling news was learning that my father’s name is Thomas and I have two half sisters.”

“Oh, Holly, that’s amazing! I bet you can find them with a DNA test and discover your biological family and ancestors,” Maya encouraged.

A few kilometers later, Dr. Q slowed his car down and pulled onto an adjacent dirt road, stopping in front of a ramshackle stand with a roof covered with faded palm fronds and held up by four wooden posts adorned with faded painted lotus flowers.

Several locals mingled in front, sipping out of small metal cups.

As we jumped out of the car, Dr. Q told us this was his favorite coffee walla, and we were in for the tastiest treat in South India.

He ordered for us (no special orders taken here!), and we watched as the man, clad only in his dhoti, quickly and artfully poured the steaming hot brew from cup to cup in a giant wet arc of coffee, milk, and who knows what else.

With my first sip, I fully understood addiction.

I’ve never smoked opium or crack, but I imagine this comes close to the same euphoria one experiences.

This was simply the most delicious cup of coffee I’d ever had.

It tasted like hot, melted H?agen-Dazs coffee ice cream and I didn’t dare think about the sugar or calorie count.

“Why do you call this place your coffee walla?” I asked Dr. Q.

He and Maya both laughed, and Dr. Q explained. “A walla is not a place or a thing, it’s a person who is the best at what they do or offers a great product or service. So there are chai wallas, ghee wallas, and rickshaw wallas. You have just experienced the world’s greatest coffee walla.”

As we got back in the car, Maya explained. “Holly, think of it this way, a walla is what you might call your ‘go-to’ person.”

“So, based on what you are saying, I could call Deepak my love walla, right?”

Maya gave me her ten-thousand-watt smile.

“Well, I’ve never heard it used that way, but yes, Deepak is truly your love walla. You may have invented a new expression! Love walla, what a beautiful explanation for your personal guru.”

A smile filled my heart and face. I had never thought of Deepak as a guru. Given his humility, he probably would have objected to the term. But deep down, I knew he had become my personal spiritual guide, teaching me important lessons about love and life.

Without any conscious consent on my part, this peaceful thought triggered a place in my heart that had still been holding a lot of pain.

If Deepak is my Love Walla , I thought to myself, then surely he’s come into my life to help me restore everything that Barry, that heartless love thief, has stolen from me.

My internal tangent was interrupted as we arrived at the temple, and I experienced a moment of déjà vu when I saw the nine-story structure that looked like an ancient Hindu wedding cake.

Built somewhere between one and two thousand years ago, I imagined that its architect was an Indian version of Walt Disney’s creative genius.

Painted in shades of coral, baby blue, and pale green, the temple was dedicated to Lord Shiva, the “auspicious one,” famous for his love and devotion to his wife, Parvati.

“Time to let go of our monkey minds,” Dr. Q reminded us. “Take a few deep breaths, and remember that we have come here to participate in a sacred ceremony. One of the ‘boons’ of this particular temple is the ability to pray for a special wish.”

Before I could rationally think about this, I heard a small voice inside me say, “I wish to know my daddy.”