The tradition of consulting astrologers has always been an integral part of our social and cultural life for centuries. Even today, many people still continue to believe in the astrological findings and consult astrologers whenever they feel inadequate in their efforts to pursue their dreams. Besides, we also consult astrologers when a child is born or when a person has died to see what the future holds for him/her. This practice and the belief it generates gives us a psychological comfort and satisfaction. The astrologers believe that the movements and positions of the stars and planets significantly influence the way we think and act. The predictions are therefore derived from the careful observation of the movement and position of those celestial bodies in our solar system. In the modern era of advanced science and technology that promote logical thinking and reasoning, it sounds like a fairy-tale to believe that our life can be predicted when we do not even know what will happen to us the next moment.
My uncle and his family are devoted Christians and they believe in the supernatural powers of Jesus Christ and the bible. But on the other hand, I am a devoted Buddhist and I believe in the teachings of Lord Buddha. After having learned Buddhist philosophies in Dzongkha lessons in the school for years, I have understood more about Buddhism than any other religion and hence, I decided to call myself a Buddhist since my early school days. So when I went to my uncle’s place during winter vacations, I was spiritually in conflict with rest of the family because even my father was a Christian after he was convinced that believing in Jesus Christ would help him get rid of his physical disability. He was paralyzed on the left-side of his body after he suffered a brain stroke due to hypertension and he had tried almost everything available within his reach to treat his life-long disease. But he never compelled me to become a Christian to get rid of my disability. He told me a couple of times that if I believed in Christ, I might regain my sight but after I convinced him that I have understood more about Buddhism and that I would continue to believe it, he never persuaded me to go to the church with him although I occasionally went to give him company.
Diving back to that mysterious experience, I can’t still believe my own eyes. I must have been 7 or 8 at the time and it was in my village in Dipu Jhora under Chengmari Gewog in Samtse. I had not lost my sight then and I was just like any other child in the village, full of life and energy to play around freely. I was living with dad, step-mother and two other siblings. Although we survived mainly by cultivating others’ lands for a certain share of harvests, my step-mother brewed local alcohol which she sold whenever she got customers to make sure that we ate rice and meat curry at least once in a week. My dad was an alcoholic but my step-mother would manage to save some money for the weekly feast. Wednesday was the most favourite day of the week for all of us. It was the day when villagers rushed to Chengmari town for the weekly open market. So every Wednesday when my dad would go to the market, my step-mother would take out whatever little saving she had and would give it to him asking him to bring some rice and meat for the dinner. My dad would carry his basket and leave for the market while we would restlessly wait for his return.