He looked at the yellow cover, at Lord Venkateswara’s calm eyes. He wanted to scream, “Why didn’t you warn me?” But he knew. The calendar predicted grahas (planets), not the breaking of hearts.
That night, Sastry sat alone in the veranda. The calendar lay open on his lap. A single tear fell on the page for November 23: Sukravaram – Avoid anger. Donate rice.
He took out a pencil and wrote in the margin: “Lakshmi’s first death anniversary – Nov 22. Light lamp. Feed cow.”