Apocalypse postponed?

A gypsy colleen bonked into me, barely two days to D-Day. Her steely eyes pierced mine as she uttered her prophetic indictment. You are born to rule and a very auspicious day is just around the corner, she spoke with temerity, her eye lids stock-still. The rest of her mantic pronouncement would, of course, cost me a few hundred bucks. It was déjà vu, all over again. It seems as if I have been running into the same woman, with the same promise, several times in the past 20 years! And I’m still waiting for her promise to ring true.

I have become a keen student of all things prophetic, studying palmistry, reconnoitering astrology. I needed to know if my kingship was nigh or if it would be in an atypical world beyond 21 December. Called Temple Trees to see if the Pres has any intention of abdicating his throne but he was busy packing his bug-out bag. With D-day looming large one can never be too ready.

I asked Wijesuriya, a palmist with a good reputation, what he thinks. No, not about the Pres but about myself! He said I’d live to be 85. He debunked D-day. Holy macaroni, by the time you read this we’ll be smack in the middle of 21 December!

Now I’m confused. I turned to astrology. Mr. Perera, a devout guru, helps me with my study of horoscopes and voluntarily prepared my own, which shows up blank beyond 54. Is it tomorrow, 54 or 85 and will I be King? I demanded an answer. He asked me to call him after 22 December. That helps a lot! As for my mother-in-law’s proclamations, I’m already dead meat.

It’s dark out there but not aphotic enough to suggest that it’s going to be lights out for good. As per the International Date Line, 21 December arrived right on time at eastern-most Kiribati, swiftly reaching Kiribathgoda on our shores. It arrived like any other day but promises to end unlike any other. The big question is: To be or not to be? Shakespeare can say it; we alone have to face it! We’ll know soon enough.

As I waited for my destiny, Money called over. Really! Manvinder is his real name but he affectionately responds when I call him Money. I think it has a very nice ring to it. His pretty wife Sonia agrees. Money, Sonia and their 12-year-old son are the epitome of a family endowed with graciousness and charisma. They aren’t worried about today. They have more important things to do; unlike some conspiracy mongers who come out on Fridays.

I have another friend by the same name; he’s more of a fair-weather friend. He’s right there with you on sunnier, copacetic days and when things aren’t really tickety-boo, you can’t find the fellow at all. The problem with him is he has too many friends and mostly hangs out with the wrong crowd. If the world ends today, he’ll go to hell with all of them.

Am I getting too sentimental? What if this is my last piece? What if tomorrow never comes? There are so many questions; so many untold conspiracies. I guess, they’ll just have to wait. Thank you, folks, for faithfully reading my weekly spiel. Do drop a line to my in-box if you still haven’t and let’s hope we’ll continue to live in a world there’s internet and money.

I’ll see you on the other side of 21 December. It may be a whole new world.

Till then I think I’ll go say a prayer!

(Dinesh Watawana is now an adviser to the Mayans on Apocalyptic Affairs. Email him at [email protected].)