Seven Planets Have Aligned in a Perfect Arc
As always, I was perched on my “hot seat” in my den—my sanctuary of organized chaos masquerading as a comfort zone. Before me, my overworked PC glared in quiet protest, flanked by my veteran mug. This loyal companion bore the smudged remnants of black coffee, clinging to its insides with the tenacity of first crush that refuses to fade.
The mug, however, wasn’t rebelling alone. Beside it sat a precarious stack of hastily scrawled meal plans for the next seven days—half ingenious, half an ode to misplaced optimism. Above this tableau of barely managed mayhem hung my pièce de résistance: a picture collage of my loved ones — eternally smiling, yet somehow managing to convey silent judgment over my procrastination.
This was my kingdom, my curated haven of controlled disorder—where chaos and creativity waltzed together in a slightly clumsy, yet oddly synchronized, dance.
Outside, Delhi’s AQI was cementing its title as the undefeated champion of polluted air. The atmosphere wasn’t “breathe easy” but more “smoke responsibly,” with every lungful practically screaming, “Congratulations, you just inhaled a premium blend of carcinogens.” In Delhi, 'No Smoking' signs weren’t warnings—they were punchlines. A newborn’s first cry here wasn’t just a wail; it often came with a raspy wheeze, as if the baby had chain-smoked a pack even before their first diaper change. Baby blankets seemed redundant; Delhi’s infants practically needed portable air purifiers. Even the pigeons—tthose eternal balcony squatters—looked like seasoned smokers, flapping around in smoky trails that made them seem oddly human.
Inside, I prided myself on maintaining a bubble of artificially clean air. My air purifier worked tirelessly to keep the room’s AQI at a saintly 30. But my Saturday evening sage-and-loban ritual? That was its nemesis. The moment I lit the concoction—a weekly attempt to infuse my home with positive vibes—it sent the purifier into a tailspin. Its serene display of 30 shot up to a panicked 300, accompanied by frantic beeping that practically screamed, “Make up your mind, woman!” The scent of calm clashed hilariously with its electronic protests, leaving me somewhere between guilt and amusement.
With the air duly charged and mildly hazardous, I turned my attention to the Herculean task at hand: securing accommodation in Prayagraj for the ongoing Mahakumbh. Imagine searching for water in a desert—this was harder. Train tickets, bus seats, hotel rooms—everything was booked beyond infinity. Even the waitlists had waitlists. “Excellent timing, Shalini,” I muttered sarcastically, "clearly, the universe rewards those who wait… until the very last minute."
This wasn’t about being over confident. Just a few days ago, walking seventy steps felt like summiting Everest, so the thought of traveling seven hundred kilometers one way seemed out of question. Yet, here I was, furiously punching keys with the determination of someone who hadn’t realized how late the game was!
And then, like a cosmic curveball, something else popped on my screen—the Rare Planetary Alignment. My Instagram feed was flooded with posts shouting, “If this appears on your feed before Jan 25th, you’re the chosen one!”
Chosen for what, exactly? A cosmic discount? Another side effect of social media overload, and yet again, I was about to ignore it.
But then, it stirred something within and transported me back to my long-forgotten self—the 'romantic stargazer' I once proudly claimed to be in every bio. Where had that Shalini gone—the one who spent hours on the terrace, lost in the magical expanse of stars? I used to spot Orion, Ursa Major, and the Saptrishi Mandal (the Seven Sages, or Great Bear) in the blink of an eye. I could easily spot Venus, the evening star, from the Pole Star, or Dhruv Tara—a distinction that still confuses most people. Watching clouds by day and stars by night had been my ultimate form of escapism. Now?
Delhi’s smog had turned those dreamy skies into a grim palette of fifty shades of grey. The Milky Way seemed to have packed its bags and moved to another galaxy long ago.
Still, the idea of witnessing a rare planetary alignment was too tempting to pass up. Jupiter, Saturn, Venus, Mars, and Mercury were forming a celestial conga line—visible across the globe. Not just rare, but once-in-a-lifetime rare. The planets, like Bollywood megastars, were coming together for a cosmic premiere.
Dragging myself up the stairs to my terrace, I braced for disappointment. Punjabi Bagh by night was an eclectic mix of blinking street lights, speeding headlights, and a haze so thick you could carve your initials into it. The skyline? A hazy canvas where the stars struggled to make an appearance.
But then, I looked up.
Against all odds, there they were: Saturn in the west, with its subtle rings giving it an air of quiet arrogance. Venus, glowing confidently, like the diva who knows she’s the prettiest in the room. Jupiter, massive and majestic, the elder statesman of the skies. Mars, the fiery red rebel, and Mercury, tiny but frenetic, like the intern trying to keep up with its big-shot colleagues. They cut through the haze like a cosmic miracle.
It wasn’t just the planets. My old friends—Orion, Cassiopeia, and Ursa Major—peeked out shyly from behind the smog. It felt like a long-overdue reunion. I whispered silently to them, “Long time no see,” and I swear they winked back, twinkling as if to say, “We’ve been here all along, waiting for you to look up.”
Astrologers hailed this alignment as a rare celestial event capable of influencing Earth’s geo-magnetic field and all life within its sphere. Jupiter, the benevolent giant of growth and expansion, led the parade, with Saturn—the strict disciplinarian—close behind, its solemn rings adding an air of quiet authority. Venus, the eternal charmer, radiated love and harmony; Mars, the fiery warrior, brought courage and passion; and Mercury, the quicksilver trickster, sprinkled wit, wisdom, and just the right dose of chaos. It was like a cosmic family dinner where every planet played its archetypal role—Mother Earth beaming with quiet pride while the Moon lingered like a loyal yet mischievous pet, unwilling to miss the drama.
As I stood there, gazing at the celestial spectacle, a thought lingered: Could this alignment truly influence us? Humans have blamed the planets for everything—from failed crops to doomed relationships, and yes, even that one inexplicably awkward Tuesday. Modern science might scoff, but the dreamer in me couldn’t help but wonder. What if there was a ripple effect—a cosmic nudge that gently stirred our thoughts, dreams, or even the quiet rhythm of how we navigated life? Perhaps the universe wasn’t just an infinite expanse out there but also an intricate force within us, its alignment whispering secrets to every starry-eyed soul willing to pause and listen.
The cool night air wrapped around me like an old friend, carrying an inexplicable calm. For a fleeting moment, Delhi’s relentless chaos seemed to retreat into the background. I closed my eyes and thought of Shiva—the eternal anchor in the cosmic flux, the Divine Darkness crowned with the infinite stars scattered across his wild, resplendent locks. The planets’ silent choreography felt like a hymn to the order that exists beneath life’s absurdities, a quiet reminder that chaos and harmony are, and have always been, cosmic bedfellows.
I lingered on the terrace longer than I’d planned, inhaling the moment—and, inevitably, a cocktail of pollutants no purifier dared cleanse. When I finally returned to my study, my black coffee had turned cold and bitter, but oddly, it felt comforting—much like the night itself. The alignment hadn’t re-aligned my life, but it had unearthed something—a part of me buried beneath the weight of duties and deadlines. It reminded me that sometimes, all it takes is a moment of stillness to find your way back to yourself.
As I slipped under the covers that night, the memory of those stars still glimmered behind my eyelids. I whispered a silent vow to the universe: to look up more often—not just at the skies but within. After all, some alignments aren’t meant to change your world; they’re there to remind you of the quiet beauty of simply being in it.
Did you catch the rare planetary parade, or are you still stuck in the traffic of your thoughts?
Rush before the show gets over and do share your experience in the comment box!
