Trust me, having a best friend who was a superstitious freak isn’t fun at all. You get to hear how everything little thing that happens is either premeditated in the great cosmic design or some danger to your destiny. What is destiny, anyway? And who believes in such hogwash these days? Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you—Mark, my best friend who believes in omens, tarots, herbalists, and—can you believe it?—fortune-tellers. Which was were he was dragging me to. This guy is impossible!

Don’t get me wrong here, I totally accept whatever anyone chooses to believe, but when you try to drag me into it, that’s when I get really pissed off. What’s wrong with not believing in such concoctions of people who have devised intricate methods of cobwebbing the minds of people?

Mark had been trying to bring me to this woman he claims ‘would tell me why I was so unlucky in love’ for as long as I can remember. But today, it seems like he had steamrolled me with counter points on why I should, at least, pay her a visit. So voilà, here we are.

We went in his Lexus RX 360 which he had bought new (courtesy of the new good luck charm he wore around his neck, or so he claims). I’d never been to this part of the city. Here, you could easily get lost among the various similar looking streets about. At every corner, there seemed to be ten or so shops sprawled about. The shops were built as if the builders had no interest of the occupants at heart. They were shabby and looked as if they would crumble at any time.

The number of people milling about the streets here defied belief. Thousands of faces crisscrossed each other with seeming indifference. If you took a kid to this place, you’d better be careful, or the child would be lost. As I was ruminating over these features of this strange place, Mark pulled over in front of a nondescript shop with red and white clothes tied all around it.

“Here we are,” he announced, as he jumped down. I also came down and joined him as he entered the shop. As I entered, I had the distinct feeling that cobwebs were on my hair. Frantically, I raked my hands through my hair, but nothing was there. Was my mind playing tricks on me?

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