Ten days ago India witnessed a rare natural occurrence, a total solar eclipse that lasted around six minutes. In Chennai the eclipse was partial, yet the Tamil Nadu Science Foundation found that their 50,000 filter spectacles sold out in no time at all (five of them to my family).
That sounds good until you mull it over: hmmm, they made only 50,000. Chennai’s total population is estimated at around 80 lakh. This statistic came to life during an immediate post-eclipse walk to Elliot’s beach. Most mornings the beach is abuzz with the elderly on their constitutional, huddled lovers, a team sport in progress, coconut hawkers, vegetable vendors, a couple of beggars, and several inquisitive dogs. This morning only the dogs were present. Nothing else moved (other than the higher-than-usual tides lashing the beach). Everyone was hiding from the Moon-hidden Sun.
People hid because thanks to those shameless confidence tricksters known as astrologers, they thought the eclipse would bring untold catastrophe. Of course there was a joint statement with Pakistan that few Indians seemed to like; there was a G8 resolution against nuclear trade with nations like India that hadn’t signed the Non-Proliferation Treaty; there was a visit from Hillary Clinton which left many with the same queasy feeling you get in a dentist’s waiting room; and there was a nuclear end users agreement that for many conjured visions of Americans marching into our secret nuclear labs and plants for unannounced inspection tours. Do astrologers really know about astrology?
But none of this heralded any global or even local catastrophe. Our prime minister forcefully told the country to stop fretting and leave business to him. The solar eclipse thus was astrologically an anti-climax. Otherwise, it was an awesome event: other than my surly sleepy-headed son, my family enjoyed watching it. You could say it was auspicious, even.
