I am neither a sceptic nor a believer when it comes to the occult — a healthy respect is what I accord to all things esoteric. But when you grow up hearing tales of the astute astrological skills of your grandfather, you tend to poke around. I did too during my teens when I picked up, as many others must have, Linda Goodman’s ‘Sun Signs’. It was a fun two to three years of getting all worked up about a possibly fiery Aries boss, understanding the enigmatic Scorpio boyfriend (in my case, imaginary), daydreaming about a calm Taurus child… you get the drift. And then life caught up and all my natal chart scribblings and notes on ascendants and sun signs were stuffed into a moth-eaten suitcase.
About a month ago, when I heard my colleagues scouting for a volunteer to try tarot reading, my hands went up of their own accord. The mystics would probably call this synchronicity. I must confess that in the past year or so, thanks to a flood of ‘witches’, ‘mystics’ and ‘psychics’ on Instagram and my cat-like curiosity, I have stalked several of them. When I embarked on this experiment, I discovered that I had picked up quite a few tidbits about tarot cards due to this aimless but persistent shadowing. The cards were no longer unfamiliar, though my grasp of their actual purpose was far from solid.
I signed up with Sumaa Tekur, a friend and a Bengaluru-based professional tarot card reader, for an intensive full-day course. Sumaa advised me to buy a traditional tarot deck — The Rider-Waite cards (see box).
Playing right
On the day of the appointment, I found myself clutching my brand-new deck and stepping into Sumaa’s parlour, which was as normal as normal could be. No crystal balls were shining into my face. Sumaa was not in goth makeup. But I was nervous. What if she did a reading and it turns out I will have a terrible 2024? Will she discover something about me I do not want anyone to know?
We began with some cake and coffee which immediately put me at ease. Sumaa told me how she became a tarot card reader. “It has been nearly 20 years and I began exploring tarot on a whim. I started practising every day, did readings for myself and slowly, honed my intuition, and built an instinctive understanding of the cards,” she explains. Knowing Sumaa, I can see that this is neither an easy nor a quick process. Sumaa wears multiple hats — she is a media professional and an author of non-fiction books. These are professions that demand she keep her heart aside and think with her head, aim for logic and accuracy, and pay more attention to facts than fantasy.
Finding balance
Tarot, on the other hand, expects you to trust your intuition. It insists you respond to the ‘energy’ of the one you are reading for and also understand your own emotional and spiritual state of being. I ask her how she manages to find a balance between two conflicting mental states. “Balance is crucial… yes, sometimes the practical, logical side of my brain interferes with what my heart is telling me. Mostly, it is practice. Over time, one learns to distinguish, identify, and isolate one’s instinct and intuition from other influences, both external and internal,” she says. Would I be able to achieve that? It sounded both exotic and doable at the same time. So, we began.
After a succinct PowerPoint presentation that covered the basics of tarot reading, card details and symbolism, the possible spreads a novice can try, and methods of interpretation, I was ready to do my first reading.
It was late afternoon by this time and a single beam of light was falling on Sumaa’s round wooden table on which she had arranged the cards. She told me how tarot card readers hunt for decks that ‘speak’ to them — and once they settle on a particular set, they are often particular about who touches the cards, and how they are ‘cleansed’ to get rid of the impurities they may collect over time. At that point, this did not make too much sense to me (later it did), so I nodded, eager to get on with the reading.
I first shuffled the cards and my butterfingers did not help. Half the cards fell out of my hands and I grinned nervously. Sumaa reassured me that shuffling too is all about practice. I then spread out the cards in a semi-circle. Sumaa asked me to pick up two cards — one for the head and one for the heart. I got ‘Seven of Wands’ for the head reading and ‘Six of Cups’ for the heart. While ‘Seven of Wands’ is about perseverance, dealing with challenges and building stamina, the
‘Six of Cups’ symbolises childlike joy, hope, nostalgia, and a feeling of playfulness. It rang true for me at that point — while it was a busy and challenging time for me professionally and otherwise, in my heart, I was in a contented, happy space. How did the cards pick this up? Or was this plain confirmation bias working? Beginner’s luck, perhaps.
First reading
Sumaa then asked me to do a reading for her, and I did, with some trepidation. She was encouraging and non-judgemental, which went a long way in giving me the confidence to share my interpretations. “You can read books on tarot, study guides, take online courses and work with teachers, but ultimately, you must find your own way with the cards. The longer you are with your cards, the more you will begin to figure out how to read them… you are required to open your heart and mind completely for this to happen,” Sumaa advised.
It is one thing to want to open up your heart and mind. It is a completely different thing to actually do it. I sincerely tried to, in the next two readings I did
for Sumaa. She exclaimed happily
that I was “getting there fast” but what astonished me was how energy-sapping the entire process was! To be able to imbibe another person’s emotions, past disappointments and inner conflicts, separate them from your own and articulate it all takes courage, clear-headedness, emotional intelligence, and bucketfuls of mental (spiritual, if you wish) energy. A good grasp of language and vocabulary is also important. It reminded me of my counsellor training sessions when I was a student of psychology.
I had neither expected nor anticipated this level of involvement of all my faculties. Frankly, it threw me off — in a good way. I felt excited, challenged and strangely confident. Sumaa sent me off with advice about being consistent in my practice, finding a sacred space, forming my own rituals for the readings and respecting the cards by not being frivolous or campy about them.
On the table
It was a full moon in two days and I decided to begin my practice after ‘cleansing’ the cards. It felt decidedly foolish though, to spread the cards in my balcony to let them soak in the moonlight. Keeping my natural scepticism aside, I followed through with the ritual. Once I sat down, I noticed that I did not feel any ridicule for myself.
Tarot cards have long got a dubious reputation, thanks to mindless portrayals in popular culture. In real life, readers are rarely that dramatic — they are most unlikely to tell you that you will die or someone is doing voodoo on you. And if they do, whether offline or online, it is probably a scam.
By my fifth day of doing readings for myself and studying the cards, I realised getting them to ‘speak’ to you is a lot like learning a new language. It so happens that I am also attempting to learn French and the struggle is uncannily similar. Initially, everything is a blur and the gendered nouns are a headache. However, as you persist, the mist begins to clear. With cards too, a rapport is built, the meanings seep into you, you begin to interpret the symbols organically, and your intuition grows, ignoring that cynical imp sitting in the corner of your brain.
Family time
I then summoned the courage to read for my loved ones and friends. I admit this did not always turn out well. Once or twice, I felt no connection to the cards and could not interpret anything. Another time, I felt emotionally drained and gave up halfway. My 10-year-old daughter insisted I read for her too. I told her to ask me a ‘yes or no’ question, and she promptly did: ‘Will my friends come to play with me today?’ I fished out The Star card and confidently told her, yes, they will. No one did and she accosted me at night and said my tarot had been wrong. I nodded humbly; yes sweetheart, they were, or rather, I was.
I did not give up. I then did a nine-spread reading for another loved
one that turned out to be revealing in more ways than one. It was bordering on the eerie how the first card he picked was the ‘Three of Swords’ — a perfect reflection of his disturbed emotional state. He was as taken aback as I was. Another time, I picked a card that resonated exactly with my overworked brain. Coincidences? Other-world energy? I understood then what Sumaa had meant when she told me to respect and cleanse the cards.
Like most others, I was under the impression that tarot cards read our future. This past month, I have come to understand that what they do is highlight the opportunities and obstacles in our path. How you move forward is up to you, like it always is. A good counsellor is expected to bring similar clarity to your thought process — the cards have an esoteric way, let’s say, of helping you keep the faith, and find a sense of purpose and direction — they are for guidance, not for set-in-stone answers.
It also dawned on me why tarot card readings have taken over social media. Perhaps it is the simple person-to-person interaction that people sorely miss; something less than clinical therapy and more than chit-chat. All of us are possibly yearning for that safe space where we can openly discuss our thoughts and feelings without being judged.
Of course, fortune telling of any kind runs into scepticism all the time. Software engineer Arindam Sinha laughed in my face when I suggested gently that I could read for him. He said: “This is all bunkum… people making money from social media. Why have you got into this… all well with you?”
Will I continue with my readings? I think I will; for I too seem to have serendipitously found a safe space.
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