An Indian Palm Reading

“Let me see your palm.”

I dropped the papers in my hand onto the table in front of the classroom. I looked around to make sure none of the students were finished with their surveys and waiting for me to collect them.

I put my right hand out so she could see the palm—obeying without thought. The woman, dressed in a simple and smartly wrapped saree, pulled my left hand towards her as well. She looked down quickly at the palms now in her hands.

“Put them together.”

“Wha..?”

Before I could ask she pushed my hands closer together. She shifted her position so that both of us were facing the open, sunlit windows looking at my palms as if I was begging to god for a rupee coin.

She stopped pouring over my empty hands and looked at me. “You can go as far as you want in education.”

“You’re reading my palm?” I thought to myself—not realizing in the last quick moments that this Professor and Head of the Applied Mathematics Department was actually reading my palm. Well of course she would say that about my education—I had come to her to get her permission to conduct a survey in her classroom. I had explained I was a master’s student in sociology in the States and showed her the necessary paperwork I had received from the Registrar of Bharthiar. And now the students in her department were sitting filling out the surveys—talking amongst themselves (helping each other with the English)—while this woman read my palm at the front of the classroom.

She nodded and continued stating the facts she had read, “You will have a good marriage. And your health line is deep—good health. You have a good palm.”

I smiled and let my hands go to my side. “How did you learn to…?”

“My father was also a professor, but he had this as a hobby. I learned from him.” She picked up my hands again, pushing them back together. This time adjusting them to face the light of the windows better.

While pouring over my hands she said, “Yes you do have a good palm. You will be good at your education if you choose to continue.” Looking at me she explained, “Some girls will come to my office and I will look at their palms. I sometimes see that their education is short; something will get in the way of their studies. I don’t take on those students because they will not complete the program. I know they won’t finish so I don’t take them on. But you have a good line—you will be successful at education.”

I was intrigued and wanted her to continue mostly wondering if she saw something bad she was trying to keep from me. I tried not to look if the students sitting at their desks were listening in on this palm reading. I didn’t want to draw attention to them.

“You do have a good palm.” She pulled my hands which now hung limp at my sides again to the same position and poured quickly again. “Yes good health and you will have a handsome husband.”

“Thanks.” Feeling like the comment about my husband was more of bonus she had just thrown in for fun. She pulled away and asked the students if they were finished with the surveys. I picked up my papers and watched for students finished thinking, “Only in India would a professor read your palm and not think anything of it.” I smiled and tried to suppress the desire to ask her more about the future in my hand.