THE BRAHMAN WHO COULD READ IN SEALED ENVELOPES

 

By P. Sreeneevas Row.

 

READING IN A SEALED ENVELOPE

 

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 I 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 practised.”

 

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 in Telugu; 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 (paranormal ability) is a delusion, and I am a liar!”

 

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.”

 

 

(The Theosophist, May 1883, p.192)