The unintonated

She was born at midday under the influence of Ketu.

Ketu, one of the Rahu-Ketu twin planets which can only be felt but not seen: the more subservient twin to Rahu, the underdog, the under-confident, the insecure, the quiet.

The spiritual, the other worldly, the darker, quieter shadow to Rahu.

Ketu of the Rahu-Ketu twinship that exist and control life without having mass, shape, form or colour of their own.

Panditji further validated himself for when the girl first revealed her eyes to the world in her first tearless, soundless cry – for she had yellow, garlic like eyes. The women of the village who had gathered around her were shocked. Murmurs reached the menfolk who huddled around outside the hut. It was decided that there would probably be droughts this year.

"Get her a Cat's eye - a lehsuniya. Make sure you have it around her neck at all times," remedied Panditji, the Learned One.

And so, within an hour of her birth, her father scurried off to get the prescribed gem, made an offering of 235 grams of silver and circled the Peepul tree seven times at ten minutes past two in the arid afternoon as per the guidance of Panditji, the Learned One. Her mother was recuperating from her rather abusive childbirth – blaming her father for bringing her to this state – indeed what was the need of choosing her over her sisters, bringing her to this strange village – and then, insisting on doing it on the very first night? Why, he didn't even have a fixed income, failing at almost all kinds of businesses! Good thing his father left him some money and the house. Else, did he have a plan of taking care oaf her? And now, the child?

Later in the day, when the neighbourhood ladies and their husbands had dispersed, Panditji (and via him, God) appeased, the parents sat together in awkward silence, both more than necessarily embarrassed by the events of the day.
The child let out another tearless, whimper. Her eyes opened and shut, tracing the dim sun’s ray that peeped through holes the curtains. The Cat's eye around her neck changed colours in synchronicity.

"She needs to be named," said her mother.
"I can't think of anything," murmured her father.

"Lehsuniya," said her mother conclusively, the garlic-eyed one.

As a cue, her father started a garlic business the following month. It flourished. Too bad, her mother didn't live to see it thrive – Lehsuniya’s luck took her mother away.

***
Lehsuniya finally comes out of the proverbial shadow. She was mentioned on this blog, the first time, and in life, third.

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