I am old enough to have a mind of my own. I don’t need to get influenced by other people’s biases or inherit prejudices. But over the last two months, I can’t help being influenced by what my cousin told me…about ‘no. 8’ people - people whose birth dates add up to no. 8. Not their whole birthdates, just the first number. He told me that no. 8 personalities lead difficult lives – mostly of their own doing. They are wilful, stubborn, controversial, rebellious, and tend to have relationships fraught with angst. They are the ones born with varying sizes of albatrosses that they spend their lives trying to release. (He’s an 8 himself.)
To prove his point, he started pointing out people who were born on the 8th of a month, or the 17th, etc. If I’d talk about a particular person who was being tough to handle, he’d ask me when the person was born. If I told him exasperatedly about someone who was obviously making the wrong choices, he’d ask me their birth date. Invariably, these people would be no. 8s.
I don’t quite believe that. But, I have started wondering.
Yesterday, my parents had driven to Pune along with my brother. As they were already late while leaving from Bombay, I’d asked them to post-pone their trip. They, of course, said no. They took my car. On the way back, they had an accident. A truck hit the car from behind. It was quite serious, but thankfully…very, very thankfully, no-one is hurt.
I heard about the accident this morning. Even before my father could say it, I knew he had been driving, and not my brother. It’s my dad’s birthday today. 26th of the June.
Adds up to an 8.