It was in the 7:55 to Central Terminal that I met him. "You will soon be prosperous, but will lose out on the ebay deal.", a voice pronounced in my ear.
A short, stout, saffron robed saint; among the sweaty masses of a damp morning train. Vermilion on the forehead, hair shorn for a Hare Krishna look. The round, chubby face clean shaven, with the second chin wagging to agree with the first when he spoke.
"Are you a face reader?", I asked.
He made a face reserved for the unknown droplets that fall on you in the tunnels.
"No, my son."
"A Palmist then? Or perhaps you read from the shape of the head?"
"Take it easy son. Palmistry, phrenology, tarot.. all are passe. I've studied this science for a long time, and have developed my method. I operate in the rush hour trains. I smell armpits", he said with a quiet dignity.
I brought down my arm from the bar above, and lost my balance. "You what?"
"Armpits, son. The fortunes of today are all written in the underarm." He suddenly raised his voice in a sales pitch.
"Very convenient for daily commuters. Problems in Love? Job? Money? Sex? All problems guaranteed solution. Come to me! Raise your arms, raise your luck!"
"He's good", a guy next to me remarked. "I'm a software engineer. I never had enough time and I never was very good.. but now I get her off in logN time."
The sales pitch worked, and people did a slow trapeze to get to the Armpit Baba. Some even gave up their window seats for a consultation. "Soon my skills will be world famous.. my disciples will spread across the globe foretelling future of the entire commuting mankind...", he started his services.
"I'm going to get a fortune when my wife dies..", a fat man returned happily to his seat.
"Your boss will be out all day after lunch", a bespectacled clerk was told.
"You shall soon be sleeping under the stars.", the Baba told a beaded hippie.
"You too..", he said to a pretty struggling starlet.
I was slowly edged out to the door and onto my platform, thinking about when Armpit Baba's disciples would swarm the rush hour trains.
So if you have a problem, and need help, keep an eye out and an arm up for the Armpit Baba.
He's out there, and he's sniffing.
A short, stout, saffron robed saint; among the sweaty masses of a damp morning train. Vermilion on the forehead, hair shorn for a Hare Krishna look. The round, chubby face clean shaven, with the second chin wagging to agree with the first when he spoke.
"Are you a face reader?", I asked.
He made a face reserved for the unknown droplets that fall on you in the tunnels.
"No, my son."
"A Palmist then? Or perhaps you read from the shape of the head?"
"Take it easy son. Palmistry, phrenology, tarot.. all are passe. I've studied this science for a long time, and have developed my method. I operate in the rush hour trains. I smell armpits", he said with a quiet dignity.
I brought down my arm from the bar above, and lost my balance. "You what?"
"Armpits, son. The fortunes of today are all written in the underarm." He suddenly raised his voice in a sales pitch.
"Very convenient for daily commuters. Problems in Love? Job? Money? Sex? All problems guaranteed solution. Come to me! Raise your arms, raise your luck!"
"He's good", a guy next to me remarked. "I'm a software engineer. I never had enough time and I never was very good.. but now I get her off in logN time."
The sales pitch worked, and people did a slow trapeze to get to the Armpit Baba. Some even gave up their window seats for a consultation. "Soon my skills will be world famous.. my disciples will spread across the globe foretelling future of the entire commuting mankind...", he started his services.
"I'm going to get a fortune when my wife dies..", a fat man returned happily to his seat.
"Your boss will be out all day after lunch", a bespectacled clerk was told.
"You shall soon be sleeping under the stars.", the Baba told a beaded hippie.
"You too..", he said to a pretty struggling starlet.
I was slowly edged out to the door and onto my platform, thinking about when Armpit Baba's disciples would swarm the rush hour trains.
So if you have a problem, and need help, keep an eye out and an arm up for the Armpit Baba.
He's out there, and he's sniffing.
