Chapter 1: The Skeptic’s Dilemma
Ram had always prided himself on being a non-believer. His rational mindset, shaped by a scientific education and the relentless logic of the modern technological era, made it impossible for him to entertain the idea of seeking astrological guidance. He saw himself as someone who steered his own course, unfazed by the cosmic dance of planets and stars.
Yet, fate—or irony—had a way of testing convictions. Every time he accidentally found himself in a situation where his natal chart was analyzed by an astrologer, something unsettling happened. They were always on the dot. It wasn’t vague predictions or cleverly worded generalities—it was precise, unnervingly accurate insights that left him questioning, if only for a moment, the walls of reason he had built around himself.
Chapter 2: Written in the Stars
At 45, he sat outside the maternity theatre, his hands clasped together, his heart pounding in anticipation. Anxiety filled the sterile hospital air, but deep down, he already knew—his third child would be a boy. It wasn’t just a hunch or wishful thinking; it was something an astrologer had told him two decades ago.
The gap between his earlier children – 2 beautiful daughters – and the present one was vast, almost spanning a generation, but the timing, the event—everything was perfectly in sync with a prediction he had once brushed off with a skeptical smile.
Chapter 3: The Unseen Appointment
Ram’s fascination with spirituality had taken root at a tender age, much to the concern of his parents. While other children were busy with school and play, he found himself drawn to nomads, wandering sages, and saintly figures. His mother worried endlessly, fearing he might drift too far from the life they had envisioned for him. His father, however, was a man of action.
That fateful day, his father’s voice rang with an unmistakable authority. “Get ready, we’ve got an important appointment,” he ordered, leaving no room for discussion. Ram had never defied his father, and today was no exception. Without question, he dressed promptly, his mind swirling with curiosity. Who were they going to meet? Where were they headed?
Chapter 4: Meeting with the old man
The father and son stepped into the dimly lit hut, a place so deprived of sunlight that even during the day, a lamp seemed necessary. It was a cramped, disorganized dwelling, its rough walls lined with tattered books and scattered papers. The absence of a woman’s touch was evident—clothes lay in careless heaps, and a thick layer of dust coated the few possessions the occupant owned.
At the center of it all sat an old man, likely in his mid-seventies. His frail frame was folded into itself, legs crossed as he hunched over a notebook, his bony fingers tracing lines of ink across the worn pages. In front of him lay a collection of ancient books, their pages yellowed and clinging desperately to their spines.
Ram frowned. He had expected something different, someone different. This man—this shabby, aged figure—couldn’t possibly have anything of value to offer.
Yet, as the minutes stretched in silence, something shifted. The old man did not speak, did not acknowledge them beyond an initial glance. Instead, he remained engrossed in his work, his eyes flicking between the fragile books and the fresh notations he made in his journal.
Ten minutes passed in utter stillness before realization struck Ram. The old man had not been ignoring them. He had been studying him—deciphering the stars, unraveling the threads of fate woven into his horoscope.
Chapter 5: The predictions
The astrologer neither paused to speak of Ram’s past nor indulged in the usual descriptions of personality traits found in Western sun sign books. Ram had skimmed through a few of those for fun, sometimes using them to impress girls back in school and college. But this old man—he was different.
He wasted no breath on vague generalities. Instead, he spoke in sharp, precise sentences, each carrying the weight of inevitability. Predictions came at Ram in rapid succession, each marked with a time frame.
“When will you get a job?” The old man scribbled something on the paper and gave an exact date.
“Where will you settle down?” Another answer, as if it were already decided.
“When will you get married? To whom?”
“How many children will you have? When? What gender?”
Ram sat there, reeling. It was too much. Too many details, too many fixed points in time that he had never even considered. He had come expecting some vague wisdom, some cryptic riddles at best—not this relentless flood of specifics. His mind refused to hold onto them. It was easier to let them slip away, to brush them aside as words spoken in passing.
And so he forgot.
Or at least, he thought he did.
Until life, piece by piece, began to unfold exactly as the old man had said. And with each event, Ram found himself looking back, stunned, remembering—Oh. That old man had said so once.
Chapter 6: The prediction going wrong
“After two daughters, you will have a son at the age of 45,” the old man had declared with unwavering certainty.
For nearly twenty years, those words had lingered in Ram’s mind, sometimes as a passing thought, sometimes as an eerie echo in moments of solitude.
But then once, it was the same prediction that seemed on the verge of going wrong—its timing slipping, its certainty unraveling.
At least, Ram thought, that time, the old man must have been wrong.
Chapter 7: The Third Pregnancy
Ram was just 29 when he found himself already the father of two lovely daughters—Meera, seven, and little Anika, four. Parenthood had come to him earlier than he had expected, and though neither of the girls had been exactly planned, they had become the center of his world.
And now, Lakshmi was pregnant again.
The news had come unannounced, uninvited—one of those things that life simply decided for them. Not that Ram minded. He had always imagined a big family, a house filled with laughter and chaos. But Lakshmi wasn’t ready.
“This is too much, Ram,” she had said, her voice edged with worry. “Two children are already a handful. And with the way things are going, raising three? It’ll be a struggle.”
The cost of living was rising, and a third child would mean sacrifices – fewer luxuries, perhaps even compromises in the kind of education they had envisioned for their daughters. A third child felt like too much to bear.
And yet, here they were, faced with a decision that was entirely theirs to make.
Chapter 8: Should we or should we not
“It’s probably a boy,” Ram thought.
Not that he cared about gender—he wasn’t the kind to long for a son just for the sake of it. But the idea of having both daughters and a son felt like a good balance, a perfect mix to grow old with.
Yet, doubt crept in. The astrologer had already missed the timing… what if the gender was wrong too? What if it was a girl again?
He pushed the thought aside almost as quickly as it came. A third daughter would bring just as much joy, just as much love—he was sure of it. His heart wasn’t set on a boy, just on the happiness of welcoming another child.
Then Lakshmi spoke.
“Let us abort it,” she said, her voice soft but firm.
The words hit Ram like a shockwave. He hadn’t seen it coming—not this direct, not this final. For days, he wrestled with himself, tangled in questions he had no answers for. Is it ethically right? Spiritually right? Is it the right option at all? A million thoughts circled in his mind, none settling into clarity.
But through it all, one thing became painfully obvious—Lakshmi wasn’t happy. She wasn’t just worried or overwhelmed; she was outright unwilling to go through the process a third time. It wasn’t about money or space or planning anymore. It was about her.
What is the point of bringing a new life into the world when the mother herself is so unhappy about it?
That was the thought that finally settled everything for Ram.
He took her hands in his and simply said, “Do what feels right to you.”
A week later, after days of bleeding and bed rest, Lakshmi smiled again. And that was all Ram needed to know he had made the right choice.
Chapter 9: It is a boy!
“It’s a boy!” the nurse exclaimed as she rushed out of the maternity room, carrying the newborn in her arms.
Ram shot up from his seat, his heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and relief. He stepped closer, his breath hitching as he laid eyes on his son for the first time. Tiny, wrapped in soft white cloth, the baby blinked up at him with glimmering eyes—curious, as if already recognizing the man before him.
Ram swallowed hard. He’s perfect.
“How is Reshma?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. He had read enough to know that childbirth at forty wasn’t easy—it carried risks, complications, warnings whispered by doctors and medical books.
“She’s perfectly fine,” the nurse assured him. “You can see her in two hours.”
Ram exhaled, nodding as he watched the nurse disappear into the ward with his child. His child. His son.
And just like that, the past came rushing back.
“You will divorce your first wife and remarry at the age of 35,” the astrologer had predicted all those years ago. His voice had been clear, unwavering, as if he had already seen Ram’s future unfold before him like the pages of an old manuscript.
Of all the predictions that had come true, this was the one Ram had never spoken of. Only two people had known about it—him and his father. And his father had taken it to his grave when Ram was just thirty.
For ten years, he had lived with Lakshmi, never once uttering a word about the prophecy that had loomed over their marriage. Never once hinting that their story had already been written by fate.
Yet here he was now—standing outside the maternity ward, waiting for his second wife to recover, as his newborn son was taken inside for his first feeding.
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