Hello Friends,
This blog is my response to a task assigned to us by VaidehiMa'am in thinking activity based on the screening of the short story An Astrologer's Day. So read, understand and enjoy. Happy Learning!
An an unnamed village in India, an astrologer lays out his tools of the trade, a mix of cowrie shells, obscure charts, a notebook, and other such curios. They serve no purpose but to create the illusion of mysticism. The astrologer has also painted his forehead with sacred ash, wrapped his head in a turban, and seated himself and his gear beneath a large tree. All of these things serve to give him an air of wisdom, transcendence, and prophetic power, though the narrator is quick to point out that none of these qualities actually belong to the man.
The astrologer has set up his little shop amidst a busy marketplace among people fencing stolen goods, presenting the same cheap food as a variety of gourmet delicacies, and auctioning off low-quality fabrics. The astrologer, quickly established as a fraud, is in the company of other fraudsters and spin doctors selling their wares and making their livings. The marketplace is lit by various shop lights and flares, the dancing shadows of which enhance the astrologer’s mystical quality. He notably has no light of his own, but simply borrows that of the other vendors.
The astrologer had never had any intention of becoming one, but had been forced to leave his ancestral home and travel several hundred miles away with no plan and no money. Even so, he is a convincing holy man, using his own insights into human problems to offer vague but comforting advice to people in the market. He functions as a sort of therapist, offering self-affirming advice that he wraps in the guise of astrological wisdom. He is good at his trade; he tells people what they want to hear, and they leave comforted by it. Though it is not an honest living that the astrologer makes, it is still a well-earned one.
As the marketplace is emptying and the lights are being put out, a stranger named Guru Nayak appears. In the darkness, neither can see much of the other’s face. Seeing the opportunity for one more client, the astrologer invites Guru Nayak to sit and chat. The stranger does so, but is instantly skeptical of the astrologer. He aggressively wagers that the astrologer cannot tell him anything true or worthwhile. They haggle over the price and the astrologer agrees. However, when Guru Nayak lights a cheroot, the astrologer catches a brief glimpse of the man’s face and is filled with fear. He tries to get out of the wager, but Guru Nayak holds him to it and will not let him leave.
The astrologer tries his usual tack of vague, self-affirming advice, but Guru Nayak will have none of it. The astrologer sincerely prays for a moment, and then changes course. He reveals to Guru Nayak that he knows he was once stabbed through the chest and left for dead, and that now Guru Nayak is here searching for his assailant. He even reveals that he knows Guru Nayak’s name, something he attributes to his cosmic wisdom. Guru Nayak is greatly excited by all of this, believing the astrologer to truly be all-knowing. He presses the astrologer for the whereabouts of the man who stabbed him so that he can have his revenge. The astrologer tells him that he died several months ago, crushed by an oncoming lorry. Guru Nayak is frustrated by this, but satisfied that at least his attacker died terribly. He gives the astrologer his money and leaves.
The astrologer arrives home late at night and shows his wife the money he has made, becoming briefly bitter when he realizes that although Guru Nayak has paid him a great sum, it is not quite as much as promised. Even so, his wife is thrilled. As they lie down to sleep, the astrologer reveals to his wife that a great burden has been lifted off of his shoulders. Years ago, the astrologer was the one to stab Guru Nayak and leave him for dead, which forced him to flee his home and make a new life as a fraudulent astrologer. He had thought himself to be a murderer, but was now content that he had not in fact taken a life. Satisfied by this, he goes to sleep.
Indian author R.K. Narayan’s “An Astrologer’s Day” tells the story of a fraudulent astrologer who makes his living by selling cosmic insights to gullible villagers. Although he has no knowledge of the cosmos or actual spiritual insight, the astrologer exploits his customers’ search for meaning and reassurance, robing his lies in the vagaries of mystery and religion. Narayan’s portrayal of astrology and holy men does not eviscerate or prosecute religion, but certainly prods at it. The astrologer is presented as a mere man, full of greed and fear and suffering from the woes of marriage, money, and tangled relationships much like any other human being. He possesses no cosmic insight of his own, and so must borrow and fabricate it. At the same time, the author recognizes that such religious mysticism, whether real or fantasy, offers an architecture of meaning for common people suffering common problems, but fearing insignificance and a lack of control above all else.
The astrologer’s appearance, produced by his garb and equipment, are all designed to create an air of mysticism and power. In the opening lines of the story, as the astrologer’s character is being established, he lays out his “professional equipment,” which is nothing more than a number of cowrie shells, a cloth chart that is too obscure to be understood but looks sufficiently mystical, and a bundle of ancient writings and scrolls. These props help him sell the illusion that he is a holy man; he never actually uses the items. The astrologer has also painted his forehead with sacred ash and wrapped himself in a saffron turban—saffron ironically being symbolic in Hinduism of purity and the quest for light.
The astrologer seats himself beneath a large tamarind tree, drawing upon the classical image of holy men instructing their disciples beneath a grand tree, like Buddha attaining enlightenment or icons of Jesus Christ teaching his followers. By associating himself with a grand piece of nature, he further reinforces the notion that he is a man connected with and harmonizing with the world and the cosmos. Yet even as his eyes, settled between the striking colors of his headwear and his black beard, take on a sharp, otherworldly quality that evokes powerful wisdom, the astrologer is fully aware that in such garb, “even a half-wit’s eyes would sparkle.” In fact, the narrator notes, “half the enchantment of the place had to do with the fact that it did not have the benefit of municipal lighting”—that is, marketplace itself only seems mystical, essentially, because it lacks adequate lighting provided by the government. Such details comically undercut any notion of the astrologer as a true mystic, and reject outward trappings of mysticism as shallow and meaningless.
The astrologer’s keen insight and religious vocabulary thus mask the fact that he has no cosmic wisdom. The astrologer admits to himself that he had never intended to become an astrologer and does not understand the stars or planets nor their astrological implication better than any other peasant. His position as a fraudulent holy man, which is a risky endeavor in a highly religious community, is only the result of unfortunate circumstances that forced him to flee his home years earlier after (supposedly) killing another villager, Guru Nayak. Even so, the astrologer has sharpened his perception and formed a broad analysis of human problems, being that they almost always center around marriage, money, or tangled relationships. With this insight and a good listening ear, he is able to give vague advice and positive affirmation dressed in astrological language. He has learned what people want to hear, though they do not know that they want to hear it. They are comforted by what he has to say and thus happy to pay him his fee.
The astrologer’s guise, then, however elaborate, is dependent upon the fact that people are searching for meaning and immediately inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt. Interestingly, the narrator calls the astrologer’s work as honest as any man’s labor and believes he deserves his wages. Indeed, the astrologer acts as a sort of therapist for the community—not a particularly good one, but one who does make his patients feel encouraged and affirmed in their struggles. His customers crave some level of cosmic significance in their life, and he offers it; there is a symbiosis to their relationship. However, the imbalance between their mundane problems and his astrological explanations is often absurd, such as when he connects a poor temperament to the position of Saturn.
The fact that the astrologer himself uses his disguise to evade punishment for his past crime presents the story’s ultimate hypocrisy. In the late hours of the evening, the astrologer has an encounter with a skeptical stranger whom he recognizes as Guru Nayak, the man he had attempted to murder years before. Guru Nayak has not recognized him in return, and, knowing that he will be killed if his identity is discovered, the astrologer uses his guise as a religious man to convince the skeptic that his would-be murderer was killed months ago, ending Guru Nayak’s hunt for his assailant.
Narayan, himself a member of the religious and powerful Brahmin caste, would have seen examples of holy men hiding behind their masks first-hand, and is taking the opportunity to satirize it. At the same time, the story lays some culpability for this sort of cosmic fraud on those who too quickly seek mystical solutions to their worldly problems. The readiness of people to believe that men like the astrologer have all the answers suggests an innate human desire to imbue one’s life with meaning and control. Men like the astrologer, then, are simply giving customers what they want.
The astrologer is not truly an astrologer, but merely a man masquerading as one. He has taken on a new, fabricated identity to escape the just consequences of his attempt at murder. The astrologer no longer has any opportunity to practice authenticity; his livelihood, marriage, and very survival are all predicated on lies. Narayan uses the astrologer to contemplate the ways in which fear and guilt can push an individual to live an unauthentic, self-deceiving life.
The astrologer’s fabricated identity is a fear-driven act of self-preservation, protecting him from justice and preserving his life. The astrologer was forced to flee his home after he stabbed Guru Nayak in drunken brawl. His new profession, as well as his makeup and turban, conceal his old identity from anyone who might recognize him. No one will question the identity of a holy man, as they are more inclined to think of him by title only, rather than as a person with a name, a family, an origin. For those who believe that he is a man of great power, they would not dare to question his integrity. Even the narrator does not give a name to the man, he is only ever “the astrologer.” He has thus escaped justice and judgment at the hands of his community. Indeed, when Guru Nayak approaches him, he does not recognize the face of the man he seeks (that is, the man who tried to murder him). This is due in part to the failing light at the day’s end, but also in part to the clothing and equipment that the astrologer has surrounded himself with. Had Guru Nayak recognized the astrologer, he would likely have killed him on the spot. The astrologer is playing a long-practiced part and Guru Nayak, despite his initial skepticism, fell for it. His deception has again allowed him to escape justice, thereby prohibiting him from living honestly or sincerely.
The astrologer’s fabricated identity also hides him from his own guilt for the blood he has shed. Although the narration is written in the third-person, it is reflective of the astrologer’s state of mind. Before it is revealed that he tried to murder Guru Nayak, the telling of his leaving the village is written in an off-handed tone: an event which was slightly unfortunate, but necessary, and now long-past. This suggests that the astrologer has committed himself to his new identity, fraudulent as it is, in an effort to bury his guilt. At the end of the story, when the astrologer reveals to his wife that he had once attempted to murder a man, he shows no remorse or sense of responsibility. His only concern is that he is not a true murderer, but spares no thought for the toll that his actions had on Guru Nayak. Even when his wife is understandably shocked at the knowledge that her husband tried to kill another man, the astrologer brushes it off as the actions of “silly youngsters.” He has separated his current self from the one who attempted murder. He has effectively buried his own guilt underneath the layers of his new identity.
Motivated as he is to deceive the world and himself, the astrologer is unable to undertake genuine introspection or grow, let alone to take responsibility for what he has done. The astrologer is mired in deceit, every aspect of his life is a lie. His livelihood, though it does serve a function within the village, is based on lies. He has deceived himself that his crime will never need to be atoned for, nor should it. It is especially ironic that his chosen profession is that of a holy man, one whom others look to for virtue and counsel. The astrologer is trading on the esteemed role of religion and thousands of years of teaching, but is unwilling to absorb any of it himself. He has cynically compartmentalized his world.
When given the opportunity to face his victim and take responsibility for his crime, the astrologer dodges it. During his encounter with Guru Nayak, never does the astrologer even consider the possibility of confessing. Fate presents him with the opportunity to embrace the truth, to set aside his false identity and deceptions. Instead, the astrologer uses his guise as an omniscient figure to cast another lie, convincing Guru Nayak that his attacker was killed months before. With this in mind, the astrologer’s fear during his meeting with Guru Nayak may be as much an existential fear of facing himself as it is a simple fear for his own life. Guru Nayak’s presence resurrects the past and threatens the astrologer’s own self-deceiving identity. If one piece of his identity comes loose, it all does, and his deceptions are laid bare to himself and the world. When the astrologer tells Guru Nayak that the man he used to be was killed, the astrologer does effectively kill him; any possibility of living as his authentic self has now been shattered.
Guru Nayak works as a simple foil for the astrologer’s inauthenticity. Out of fear for his life and guilt over what he has done, the astrologer has buried his true self in the robes of religious mysticism to such an extent that Narayan never even gives him a name, referring to him exclusively as “the astrologer.” This sits in contrast to Guru Nayak, whose name literally means “teacher hero” in Hindi. Fittingly, Guru Nayak is closer to being a heroic character than the astrologer ever is, because Guru Nayak is, though bent on revenge, at least true to himself. Though it may be argued whether or not Guru Nayak’s cause is noble, there is a truthful simplicity to it that is wholly lacking in the astrologer’s life, regardless of what “good” he may offer to others.
The astrologer’s guilt and fear of retribution drive him to bury his identity until every aspect of his life is a deception. Lies must supplement lies until nothing is true, and whoever the astrologer truly is is lost. Narayan’s story thus reflects the way in which guilt and fear may drive an individual to lose sight of who they are. This is true and often happens in any culture, but would have been particularly poignant in India at the time, where honor, shame, and social standing effected every aspect of life. The challenge of living a simple, introspective, and self-aware life is especially great, and takes far more courage than the astrologer has.
Throughout the story, Narayan intentionally contrasts the mix of ancient and modern, primitive and sophisticated that makes up modern India, particularly in the rural regions. Under British occupation, India was thrust into the modern world as the ruling class introduced technology and built infrastructure to suit their own tastes. Because of the speed at which this happened, as compared to the gradual progression of technology in Europe or America, much of the development happened unevenly, with old-world ideologies and methods mixing with new-world technologies and values in dynamic, asynchronous ways. Narayan uses ironic pairings of images to depict the ways in which Indian culture, built on ten thousand years of tradition, is synthesizing with a quickly changing technological world. Rather than argue that they directly contradict each other, he shows how they interweave into daily life.
Technology and modernization are signified by the presence of gaslights, cars, and notebooks in the marketplace. As these items help people literally function in the modern world, tradition and culture help the people to find their broader place in the world, offering answers to existential questions and creating the illusion that fate can be foretold and controlled. The astrologer sets up shop beneath the tamarind tree, which sits next to a road leading to the Town Hall Park. Narayan almost humorously contrasts the mystic teacher sitting beneath the tree against all the hallmarks of modern administration and democracy, pointing to the usefulness of both. Despite the modern organization of society, newfound technology, and the quickly changing aspects of daily life, the astrologer still has a lively trade. People still seek comfort in face of marital and financial strife, and even the illusion of significance and control is a valued commodity. Even though the people of the village would have understood that the cosmos spins around the sun, they were still comforted by knowing that their bad disposition was able to be explained on cosmological events, such as the current position of Saturn in the sky.
Modern of technology has begun to interpenetrate and even ironically enhance mysticism and the astrologer’s religious practice, rather than threatening to destroy it. The astrologer’s trade utilizes aspects of both modern convenience and old-world tradition. His “professional equipment” contains a medley of ritualistic items, such as cowrie shells and a mystically unreadable chart, as well as a simple notebook, perhaps for keeping records or remembering customers’ problems so that he can keep up his appearance of omniscience. The enchanting and mystical lighting of the marketplace is also only the result of gas lights and naked flares on torches, sputtering their chemical flames. Yet, ironically, if there were proper municipal lighting (the full extent of technological progress and administration), it is implied by the text that the marketplace would take on a more anti-septic quality and the astrologer’s work would be more difficult to convincingly sell. Although the marks of modernization are laced throughout the story, Narayan gives no indication that the astrologer’s trade is reaching the end of its day. Villagers are just as happy to pay their meager livings for some cosmic comfort, and poor, flickering light only helps to sell the image.
Modern development, happening at such an extreme rate, leaves many people economically behind, including the astrologer himself. A consequence of non-gradual technological progress is that inequality increases, evidence by the fact that, within the astrologer’s earshot, people are driving cars to work, (assumedly) spending their days in electrically-lit administrative offices. Narayan further demonstrates inequality by describing how, in the din of the crowd, the honking of car horns is listed alongside jutka (a two-wheeled carriage) drivers cursing their horses. Meanwhile, the astrologer himself does not have a shop or even a simple flare to light his work, borrowing the light of others and the shelter of a tree to do his business.
Yet the astrologer’s appeal is that he offers something timeless, a cultural anchor that has lasted millennia in the face of rapid changes and modernization. The astrologer is markedly poor—his wife is thrilled with the extra money he earns from Guru Nayak because she will be able to buy her daughter the small luxury of sweets—as are his clientele, shopping in such a marketplace. Economically unstable and watching the world change very quickly, the future would have felt incredibly uncertain. Being able to put some faith in wisdom gleaned from the orientation of the stars, which have been moving in the same way since the dawn of civilization, may have been a needed comfort.
Narayan’s depiction of the clash between the old world and the new in India does not fit into a simple framework. At times, the mysticism and religiosity that pervades Indian life is enhanced, sometimes ironically, by the presence of new technological development, and in such a quickly-changing landscape, the familiarity of ancient tradition is needed. At the same time, modernization is deepening the divides of economic inequality as the rich are now able to afford amenities and luxuries that create a massive qualitative difference in day to day life, which perhaps increasing the need for mysticism and meaning to unite the country across different social groups. Ancient tradition and religion, then, maybe be a means to help people stay connected to the social fabric of their country.
Thank you.