The future's for sale in the streets Rajasthan. Andrew Taylor opens his mind — and wallet — to the soothsayers.
India's independence day was apparently delayed by 24 hours because astrologers decided August 14, 1947, was inauspicious. And there is no way you would plan a wedding or even consider a prospective spouse in India without first looking to the skies.
In real life, Ravi, a young art student with an Elvis quiff, is determined to save me from star-gazing scam artists, such as the one near Jaipur's pink Hawa Mahal in Rajasthan.
"They rip off tourists," Ravi says. Except me. It took three attempts to find the stairs leading to the offices of Astro Consultations in Chandni Chowk markets, next to the Red Fort in Delhi, and when my fellow fortune seeker Vish and I finally arrive, we're told the Vedic priest is out to lunch.
So I put my faith in Ravi, who leads me to the Tadkeshwar Shiva temple and through a maze of dark alleys to someone he says is more reputable.
Ashok sells jewellery and gems, a popular job for India's soothsayers, when he's not doing palm readings free of charge, which is a rubbery concept in the fortune-telling game.
However, my trust is rather shaken when he pulls out an album filled with shots of Parisian lingerie shops and the sex museum in Amsterdam.
He shows rather less interest in the creases of my palms, which makes me wonder whether my future is not worth being told.
That worry is reinforced by Ajay Shrivastava, who offers his aura-reading services free but has a bedside manner that tastes bitter, like a lime pickle.
Vish and I have barely entered his office behind a gem shop in which the staff watch a cricket match, before he begins his diagnosis.
"You need to relax," he tells Vish, twitching his bushy moustache. "Your chakra here" - he clutches his collarbone - "is blocked."
Vish should also give up her job, work with children and old people and rush home to her ailing mother.
Worse, she won't meet a prospective husband until 2013.
To prove his credentials, Ajay asks Vish how old her parents are and then correctly types their ages on a calculator before she answers. He might be able to read auras like a Facebook page but nobody likes a showoff.
In contrast with Vish's cloudy forecast, my aura is bathed in sunshine, with a lot of feminine energy to balance my yin and yang.
However, Ajay is not so optimistic about my sisters, claiming one is bulimic, the other mentally ill.
Clearly, he puts rectitude before tact. The next day, his prognoses are even worse and can be cured only by buying 7000-rupee gems at the front of his store.
The night sky above Jaisalmer, the fabled Golden City on the edge of the Thar Desert, is filled with stars and the noise of air force jets patrolling the nearby border with Pakistan.
So it's hardly a surprise to find someone eager to analyse our star signs at the end of a long day spent wandering through the city's Jain temples and havelis (or mansions).
In the legal bhang shop, outside Jaisalmer's fort, which sells lassis, tea and biscuits laced with cannabis (consumed during Hindu festivals), Vish is told she needs a new job, the age of her last boyfriend and details of her last "relations" by a man with eyes the colour of tandoori chicken.
In a tiny office of the Moti Mahal Chowk or women's section of the magnificent Mehrangarh Fort in Jodhpur, Mr Sharma at least has an aura of respectability.
His pamphlet declares him to be "a serious research scholar on the subject" and his palm-reading services cost 500 rupees. Putting aside the newspaper, Mr Sharma asks for my name and birth details. He measures my left hand, punches an old calculator, takes notes and looks at me over his spectacles.
You are analytical, sensitive, kind-hearted but not ambitious, he tells me. Health-wise, he sees high blood pressure and heart problems but "you have the excellent fertility".
Palmistry is a numbers game and Mr Sharma says I will "die at 85, fall in love at 37, change jobs at 36, again at 45 and retire at 50". That leaves 35 years up in the air but, luckily, Mr Sharma is also an astrologer: "I will give you startling revelations."
But not today.
Trip notes
Getting there
A number of airlines fly to Delhi, via stopovers in south-east Asia. Return economy fares start from $1282 (with Malaysia Airlines), including taxes and surcharges. 13 31 33, flightcentre.com.au.
Getting around
No trip to India is complete without a rail journey. Indrail passes start from $US11 ($10) for a half-day, non-airconditioned sleeper class, although it does not pay to skimp on comfort. indianrail.gov.in.
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