‘You are facing a lot of difficulties in life, especially throughout this year. The time is just not right. An unknown enemy is the culprit. Business is not running well. If you believe me then there should be a beauty spot on your face. Get a Tantric ring. Worship Lord Hanuman,’ read my parrot card. I’d paid five rupees and my roadside forecaster, Mithoo the parrot, had strutted out of his cage and picked up a card from a spread out deck before him. A rather tatty deck, I must say - these cards had been passed on to Rajesh, Mithoo’s owner, by his father, and they’ve been in the family for generations.

Predicting what’s in store for you has always fascinated folk. Horoscopes, tarot cards, palmistry, etc are big pulls the world over. But at this Kumbh, these ancient arts are seeing a change. Machines are replacing living beings as the source of all knowledge. Business is not good for the parrot man, Rajesh. ‘People don’t come to me any more. They like the sophisticated robots. I have come from Benaras, but I don’t know if I will be able to make much profit,’ says Rajesh. He and his parrot should probably follow their own advice: try a Tantric ring and worship Lord Hanuman.

‘You are a person of a jolly nature. Your thoughts are pure and behaviour is pious. Sometimes you do get angry but you are harmless. You have a loving relationship with others. You will try to rectify their mistakes. This may lead to some problems. For the last few months you are looking for a real friend. Sometimes, you think that it will lead to pain but don’t worry, friendship will do everything.’ The voice of a giant plastic robot blared in my ears, and the future he saw was definitely more reassuring than the parrot’s.

Farooq bought his robot out in Bombay. It cost him 18,000 rupees. It has eight different recordings and four headphone sockets. ‘I brought it in a train to the Kumbh. It is a long-term investment. But the computer has created problems for me. People are mobbing it,’ said Farooq. I paid him his fee, two rupees, but still I wasn’t quite happy. I went in search of the ‘super’ fortune-teller I had been hearing rumours of all day

Night was falling as the crowds led me down one of the Kumbh’s dusty paths, pushing through a rapt crowd. And at the end I paid two rupees and got on a a giant weighing machine. It read 51 kg. Raju, the operator, then punched a `51’ on the remote. A suave face came on the television screen and intoned, ‘ your weight is 51 kilos, 51 kilos, 51 kilos. You’ll profit in trading. Take care. Thank you.’ - and that, apparently, was it.

But Raju is a happy man - though in fact his ‘super’ fortune-teller is no computer at all. I persuaded him to reveal the secrets of his electronic goldmine: ‘It has a VCR inside. And there are 100 channels. People love it - they have never seen a computer so they think this is a computer. The crowds are picking up. Business is good.’

So, if you’re visiting the Kumbh, and want to know your future, always remember one thing: If you don’t like the first answer, you can always try again - Farooq and Raju really won’t mind, as long as you pay their fees, and the batteries hold out.