Some years ago, a Brahman astrologer named Vencata Narasimla Josi, a
native of the village of Periasamudram in the Mysore Provinces, came to
the little town in the Bellary District where I was then employed. He
was a good Sanskrit, Telugu and Canarese poet, and an excellent master
of Vedic rituals; knew the Hindu system of astronomy, and professed to
be an astrologer. Besides all this, he possessed the power of reading
what was contained in any sealed envelope. The process adopted for this
purpose was simply this:--We wrote whatever we chose on a piece of
paper; enclosed it in one, two or three envelopes, each properly gummed
and sealed, and handed the cover to the astrologer. He asked us to name
a figure between 1 and 9, and on its being named, he retired with the
envelope to some secluded place for some time; and then he returned with
a paper full of figures, and another paper containing a copy of what was
on the sealed paper--exactly, letter for letter and word for word. I
tried him often and many others did the same; and we were all satisfied
that he was invariably accurate, and that there was no deception
whatsoever in the matter.
About this time, one Mr. Theyagaraja Mudalyar, a supervisor in the
Public Works Department, an English scholar and a good Sanskrit and
Telugu poet, arrived at our place on his periodical tour of inspection.
Having heard about the aforesaid astrologer, he wanted to test him in a
manner, most satisfactory to himself. One morning handing to the
astrologer a very indifferently gummed envelope, he said, "Here, Sir,
take this letter home with you and come back to me with your copy in the
afternoon." This loose way of closing the envelope, and the permission
given to the astrologer to take it home for several hours, surprised the
Brahman, who said, "I don't want to go home. Seal the cover better, and
give me the use of some room here. I shall be ready with my copy very
soon." "No," said the Mudalyar, "take it as it is, and come back
whenever you like. I have the means of finding out the deception, if
any be practiced."
So then the astrologer went with the envelope; and returned to the
Mudalyar's place in the afternoon. Myself and about twenty others were
present there by appointment. The astrologer then carefully handed the
cover to the Mudalyar, desiring him to see if it was all right. "Don't
mind that," the Mudalyar answered; "I can find out the trick, if there
be any. Produce your copy." The astrologer thereupon presented to the
Mudalyar a paper on which four lines were written and stated that this
was a copy of the paper enclosed in the Mudalyar's envelope. Those four
lines formed a portion of an antiquated poem.
The Mudalyar read the paper once, then read it over again. Extreme
satisfaction beamed over his countenance, and he sat mute for some
seconds seemingly in utter astonishment. But soon after, the expression
of his face changing, he opened the envelope and threw the enclosure
down, jocularly saying to the astrologer, "Here, Sir, is the original of
which you have produced the copy."
The paper lay upon the carpet, and was quite blank! not a word, nor a
letter on its clean surface.
This was a sad disappointment to all his admirers; but to the
astrologer himself, it was a real thunderbolt. He picked up the paper
pensively, examined it on both sides, then dashed it on the ground in a
fury; and suddenly arising, exclaimed, "My Vidya* is a delusion, and I
am a liar!"
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* Secret knowledge, magic.
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The subsequent behaviour of the poor man made us fear lest this great
disappointment should drive him to commit some desperate act. In fact
he seemed determined to drown himself in the well, saying that he was
dishonoured. While we were trying to console him, the Mudalyar came
forward, caught hold of his hands, and besought him to sit down and
calmly listen to his explanation, assuring him that he was not a liar,
and that his copy was perfectly accurate. But the astrologer would not
be satisfied; he supposed that all this was said simply to console him;
and cursed himself and his fate most horribly. However, in a few
minutes he became calmer and listened to the Mudalyar's explanation,
which was in substance as follows The only way for the sceptic to
account for this phenomenon, is to suppose that the astrologer opened
the covers dexterously and read their contents. "So," he said, "I wrote
four lines of old poetry on the paper with nitrate of silver, which
would be invisible until exposed to the light; and this would have
disclosed the astrologer's fraud, if he had tried to find out the
contents of the enclosed paper, by opening the cover, however
ingeniously. For, if he opened it and looked at the paper, he would have
seen that it was blank, resealed the cover, and declared that the paper
enveloped therein bore no writing whatever; or if he had, by design or
accident, exposed the paper to light, the writing would have become
black; and he would have produced a copy of it as if it were the result
of his own Vidya; but in either case and the writing remaining, his
deception would have been clear, and it would have been patent to all
that he did open the envelope. But in the present case, the result
proved conclusively that the cover was not opened at all."
--P. Sreeneevas Row