Bad Luck
Jacob Palof
While visiting Mumbai we went to see the Taj Mahal Hotel. Once we had looked at the hotel we were given free time to eat lunch and go shopping from local venders on the streets behind the hotel. After eating lunch, a group of us set off to explore the different shops. After a few shops and bartering with different venders, we all got separated. Matt and I walked down the street trying to avoid venders who wanted to sell us all sorts of souvenirs. As we walked further down the street, a man with little drums started walking next to us, playing one of them and saying, “Only 100 rupees.” When the man continued to follow us, Matt turned around and said, “I’m not interested, but my friend here is,” so the man continued to try and sell me one. Finally after I told him no countless times, he gave up and walked away.
As we continued to walk and look for the others, a man started to follow us, telling us he was a holy man. He continued to say, “I don’t want any money. I just want to give you good luck. I bring good luck.” Trying to get rid of him, we turned and went into a store, waited for a few minutes and continued our way down the street. Not more than five minutes later, there he was again, saying the same thing over and over again. Finally I stopped and agreed to let him give me good luck. I looked at Matt and asked, “What’s the worse that could happen?” The man brusquely pushed me aside and started his procedure.
First he dug down into his little basket and gave me a few pieces of a white candy, placing them in my hand. Then he took a piece of string and wrapped it around my left wrist while saying a prayer. He took some type of paint, placed a red dot in the middle of my forehead with it, and put a flower over both of my eyes while again saying a prayer. He motioned to me to put the candy in my mouth, I did, and he said one more prayer.
Once he was done, he looked at me and said, “A donation of 50 rupees.” I said, “You told me it was free, and anyway I don’t have 50R to give you.” He was angry and demanded his money. I responded. “I will give you what I have,” reached into my pocket and pulled out four coins worth a total of 8 rupees. I showed them to him, pointing out that that was all I had. He pushed them out of my hand onto the ground. I reached down, picked them back up and repeated, “This is all I have,” and threw them into his little basket. He gave me a very dirty look and started to walk away. A few feet away, he turned around and said, “Bad luck bad luck!” I just looked at Matt. We both laughed.
We continued to walk down the street while I took off all the things the man had given me and spit out the candy. When we met up with the rest of our group, I told them the story, and we all had a good laugh. I continued to say the man was crazy. I was a little glad I stopped in order to have a good story.
What I didn’t know was that the bad luck the man put on me would somehow actually be with me throughout the rest of the trip. Every vehicle that broke down or had something wrong with it had me in it: the safari jeep that lost a wheel on the way to a wildlife safari in Africa, the safari jeep that broke down in the Egyptian desert, and our tour bus in Turkey. I also had the worst luck with plane rides, getting broken seats and, on the long flights, headphone jacks that refused to work. For the rest of the trip, anything that went wrong was said to be my fault because I did not give the man what he wanted.