777,666,786,3,7,13 and friends

A year-end rumination on foibles, fables & numbers




777, 666, 786, 3, 7, 13 and friends


“Numbers are the universal language offered by the deity to humans as confirmation of the truth.”

St. Augustine of Hippo A.D. 354 - 430

Teri oonchi shaan hai maula/Meri arzi maan le maula/Tu hai sab kuch jaanne waala/Main hoon tera maanne waala/Mujhko bhi to lift kara de

Adnan Sami

Once upon a time, stars took on stage and screen names in order to sprinkle themselves with glamour dust. Hence the metamorphosis of Norma Jean into Marilyn Monroe, Yusufbhai into Dilip Kumar, Meejhabhen aka Meena Kumari, Harry Webb into Cliff Richard without the “s”...

A remarkable story of the transformation a name change can bring about involves Gerry Dorsey, a talented but struggling torch singer, unable to break out of the UK “B Club Circuit” where he’d languished for 14 long years. At last, his manager, on one inspired day, changed his stage name to Engelbert Humperdinck, borrowing this so-unhip-that-it’s-hip name from an obscure 19th century German classical music composer. And immediately, overnight, Engelbert arrived, and stayed – all trappings evermore, Rolls Royces, mansions, Las Vegas bling...

It may be clear, from this aforementioned nugget, that sometimes, talent, and for that matter, destiny, needs a little nudge for the ready lamp to light. After all, not everyone is born with a name to suit - readymade, like rock legend Elvis Presley - and even The King had to dye his hair black, quit driving trucks and living in Tupelo, Mississippi.

During the Raj, Indians with long, sanskritised names, particularly Bengalis, (being nearest at hand through most of the British innings), routinely changed nomenclature to aid Angrez pronunciation. The anglicised names also made it easier - for those yummy concessions and contracts, those raibahaduring titles and monogrammed, fit-to-be-presented-on-a-silver-salver invitations to flow. If the mai-baap knew how to pronounce your native myselfdom, you might be acknowledged, even remembered, when you doffed your cap on the maidan. From this modest beginning, you could attempt to reconstruct yourself into a mostly “good egg”, an almost “old boy,” a veritable brick in the outer ramparts of empire – and be able to brag about it at the mixed race Chutney Mary club(s) too.

Thus, it came to pass, that my ancestors changed Mukhopadhyaya to Mukherjee, spelt in 27 different ways in the landline telephone directory circa 2005. (Nobody looks up the landline directory anymore - what one really needs is the telecallers bible, a global cellphone directory, updated like a growing gorilla, ensconsced on the net, and named KONGKING. The tagline would read: A sudden end to privacy… Remember, won’t you, that you first read it here).

Back in “Parineeta” land, my fellow “upadhyaya” Brahmins, Chatterjee and Bannerjee went ahead and followed suit, truncating and mongrelising their names from the many lettered Chattopadhyaya and Bondopadhyaya respectively. Neighbourhood Brahmins, the Gongopadhyayas, by a quirk of phonetic fate, became Gangulys, fortunately. I mean, it could have gone in the direction of Gongs - or worse - they could have turned themselves into Gongees in a paroxysm of ingratiating wilfulness.

It’s true that shorter Bengali names like Mitra got away from this social engineering, virginally intact. Intact, that is, except for those who won’t leave well enough alone. Because some Mitras felt compelled to affect gratuitous anglicisations. So they became Mitters, or even ecclesiastical sounding Mitres - thinking it went rather better with their monocles, their Errol Flynn pencil moustaches, their maroon smoking jackets, the Austin 7 under the portico and the gin fizzes in their fists.

Still others, with irredeemably large names, attempted compromise: Chakraborty became Chukkerbutty, for example, never mind that it released suggestions of pomade and polo and butter and something distinctly posterior into the atmosphere.

South Indians, endowed with fine, sonorous, generally single surnames, posed quite a different challenge. Their other initials stood in for dimunitives- e.g. Unni as in U. Unnikrishnan- or entire genealogical tables and addresses encapsulated, essayed and encoded into consonants. So, the solar topeed Brits, in tribute to commonsense, could’ve best taken a cue. Imagine a Veeraswamy turning around to say, “Call me Vera,” in thick Tamilian accent with nary the bat of an eyelash.

The erstwhile ruling classes were also given capital opportunities to exercise their stiff upper lips whenever a Bhootalingam promoted himself as “Winston”. This is not as mock-churchillian as it sounds saar. The Chinese do it to this day, for the aural and elocutionary benefit of Gwailohs. To wit: Shanghai, Beijing, Hongkong, Singapore, Kuala Lumpur, Canton and our very own Tangra teem with Christine Kokwings, Alistair Chus, Debbie Yeps and Philomena Whangs!

But none of the aforementioned characters and caricatures changed or adopted names to tweak their destinies, except to catch understandable quantities of stardust or in tribute to the time-honoured art of brown-nosing at the nether orifices of the powerful.

But here, I’m talking about another kind of renaming for success. Traditionally, the current trend of attracting a little magic in one’s direction, was embedded into paths of least resistance taken at the suggestion of family astrologers. These worthies were/are normally consulted at birth to cast a chart and suggest a sprinkling of auspicious first letters for parents to fashion given names out of. Others, more opinionated, phlegmatic, “scientific-minded” or anglicised amongst us prefer to name our children after beloved ancestors, admired friends, heroic and mythological figures.

Some, with appalling taste, call their children after brand names, chaps on calendars or even their favourite gripe water (viz. Dulal). Parents who name babies on the basis of skin colouring, or burden their mites with some internal joke or frustration, need, of course, to be sent to Ethiopia, there to be subjected to adult circumcision with traditional implements.

Many, not placed on the right track at birth by prescient astrologers, develop the urge, in these New Aged times, to make a course correction much later. But is it really worth the bother? Is there substance in numerology that is superior to the four-leaf clover or the rabbit’s foot after all?

The jury is always out on such things, but certainly it is true that the current trend has ancient roots in all cultures with several thousand years on the clock. Most prominently, numerology harks back to the Hebrew Kabbalah and their practice of Gematrics, an elaborate scheme that lays out the interrelationship between alphabets, words and numbers, Chinese divinatory systems, ancient Egyptian writings and our very own Vedas.

Ancient learning as all this is, it is witnessing a strong revival. Change your name, change your destiny goes the promise. And more and more ordinary people are undertaking contortions of spelling to realign their names to goad the fates into showing them extra favour. These folk are following the examples set by role models, celebrities such as Shobhaa, Jayalalithaa and Viviek. The sentiment behind this embarrassment of hope is encapsulated in Adnan Sami’s wonderful ditty Thodi Si To Lift Kara De.

So which of all the numbers are auspicious? Bingo players will mumble “lucky 7” but the thing is, every number comes with its own set of goodies and each letter of the alphabet in the “Roman Script” corresponds to a given number. The premise holds true in other languages and scripts too. So interpretation becomes quite a bitch. Take the word “shirt”: it’s numerical charge in English is 8, but, in Spanish, “shirt” is “camisa,” and the numerological equivalence is 6. So here we are, shirt-tail in hand, embedded on the horns of a meanings and implications dilemma. Numerology is probably a good way to start arguments, and, perhaps, if you have a meditative bent of noggin, a good way to exercise grey cells.

Lemmesee, here’s the roll call. Numbers one to nine are used in numerology to describe character, predict outcomes, attract good fortune and side-step the charge of enraged bulls. Compound numbers are tinctures and higher octaves of the same 9 primary numbers. Alphabets a, b, c, d, e, f, g, h, and i take the first nine seats front row but the next set of nine get the same nine numbers in sequence and so on. This is how you land up with families of same number alphabets, about three to the pack. So j has a numerical equivalence of 1 just like a.

Words, names, street addresses, flowers, fruit, mountain, stream, trees, movie,serial titles, shop fronts, and Victoria’s Secret, can all be tweaked. The myriad names of God, the Devil, lovers, heroes, hearthrobs, villians and banes, exes, pets: can all be reduced to sets of single and sometimes compound numbers, and analysed to reveal all. Each individual number of a compound can likewise be analysed separately and in conjunction for all that they represent. The navigating principle in all of this is the bank of received knowledge, your native intuition and a good “feel” for sorting wheat from chaff and seeing woods for trees.

Playing around with numbers as a unifying principle: adding, subtracting, multiplying and dividing them, pondering likelinesses and applicability, creating integers and formulae and other building blocks, did eventually give birth to calculus and modern computing. So it’s probably best if you don’t sneer at the esoteric by-products. It would be sneering at Pythagoras, a keen 6th century numerologist, for example.

And as to meanings, let’s try a sampler. One is the loneliest number as the song has it. Numero Uno, first, tough at the top, associated with the Sun, Sunday and immensely powerful. It represents the beginning, the start of things, the origin, perfection, absolutism and God - in monotheistic faiths, that is. Number One people, (born on the 1st,10th or 28th, those whose entire birth-date adds up to 1, or those whose most-frequently-used name numbers add up to 1), are happy, loving, dynamic and charismatic when they’re feeling smooth and fitted into their groove. But if they’ve got out of bed on the wrong side, the self-same Ones can be sharply egotistical, selfish and melodramatic. And generally speaking, under their good behaviour smiles, Ones are simply not afraid to be individuals, be obstinate or go for a walk all by themselves.

Two is altogether more amiable, Moony and Mondayish. Twos represent duality: partnerships and interaction with others on the one hand, and disunion and polarities on the other. In symbolising partnership, Two implies that individual achievements are not always sustainable and benefit from co-operation and teamwork. You also most definitely need two to tango and sustain der master race. Two has great fun with synonyms and antonyms, Chinese Yin and Yang medallions and considerably less when buffetted by the tension generated by some of those infamous polarities. Twosas have feminine virtues, like the Moon, thought of as feminine, in contrast to the fiery and masculine Sun. Twos display intuition, they nurture and protect. Having said this, a negative twofer can be a right-pain-in-the-a: full of the petty vexations of the human spirit. It’s the grief of being Number Two, the frustration of being a perpetual Tonto but never The Lone Ranger.

Three is expansive Jupiter’s number with Thursday all to itself. And By Jove, it puts a third leg to the see-sawing polarity of two. This injects stability, integration and the wholeness into the occasional table. Three is the number of the Holy Trinity in more than one major world religion. Three jives with mind, body, and spirit. Our visible world is three dimensional. Three is lucky, a money magnet and career builder. Three associates with succesful communication of all kinds: expression, drama, acting, humour. On the upside, Threes can be wise, understanding and knowledgeable. On the flip, Threes can be sad sacks, foolhardy and take unnecessary risks particularly when attempting to run three-legged races.

Four is ruled by Rahu, the Shadow Planet Dragon’s Head, and shares Sunday’s with Number One.The first "composite" number; that is to say, the first number that can be created from multiplying numbers other than itself. The simplest solid, a right square, has four sides. There are four cardinal points as any weathervane will tell you, (North, South, East and West), months have four weeks mostly and some lucky climes have four seasons. There are four Christian gospels and four "elements": viz. Fire, Air, Earth, and Water. The "composite personality" of the Foursomes often leads to fiercely independent, "out-of-the-box" thinking. Dilbert must have been created by a 4. In the Jewish religion, the number four resonates with the four-letter name of the God, Yod-He-Vau-He. The other four-letter word we live by needs no introduction. However, Chinese numerology doesn’t like 4 because the word "four" is a homonym of the Chinese word for death. So the Chinese skip the 4th floor on their buildings just as much of the rest of the world skips the 13th ( a higher octave of the self-same 4).

Five stands for sensual awareness in the form of the five senses. If Lolita spoke up, this might well turn out to be her number. Associated with the thinking planet Mercury and Wednesday, Fives are highly analytical but can over-ponder an issue too. Contrast this contradiction with their Quicksilver temperaments which bestow great and instant grasp and can exude killer charm. Fives are versatile and kinky, scandalously open to new ways of doing “it”. Bet you can’t wait to meet one armed with this intelligence.

Six is Venusian, not specially rich but very comfortable thank you. Number Six is surrounded by luxury and sensual fulfilment. But line ‘em up three in a row(666) and it becomes the number of The Beast (The Antichrist, who it is prophesied, will rule the world with the consummate charm of the Devil). By itself, Sixers are tactful, beautiful and harmonious. And why ever not? The Six deals primarily in attraction and pleasure, possess charm, grace and the ability to make diplomatic small talk in abundance. But piss off a Chakka and you get trashed. The Sixer will go on a philandering spree, bitter as gourd, vengeful as the whole rack of wrath with no barbecue sauce to help things along. Still, should you want to play math footsie, Six is the first "perfect" number, in that the sum of its divisors, other than itself, is equal to itself: 6 X 1 = 6 and 3 X 2 = 6, and 1 + 2 + 3 = 6. Interestingly, the product of its divisors, other than itself, also equals 6.

Seven is Neptune’s number, illusive and veiled, fishy-tailed and armed with a trident. Seven is also ruled by Ketu, the Shadow Planet Dragon’s Tail and shares Monday with the polar Twos. Lucky Seven is concealed and sacred. Three Sevens in a row (777) is God’s own number by Biblical tradition. In Islam, however, the number is 786 being the total value of the letters of "Bismillah al-Rahman al-Rahim". Then you have 7 days a week, the Bible says God created the world in 7, the ancient solar system had 7 planets (getting a bit messed though, what with recent discoveries). There are 7 chakras too. 777 also happens to be the number of Boeing’s latest fly-by-wire. But when it comes to 7 people, it does take a bit of doing to find the light under this complicated and dreamy bushel.

Eight on the other hand packs a Saturday Night Special. Eight also serenades you with all eight notes (octave), of the musical scale. The Chinese love 8 best of all and set up a clatter of chatter in praise of the "good luck" number, mainly because Eights move heaven and earth to achieve wealth and material success. To the Chinese, this wealth and pelf thing is THE IDEAL, I kid you not! Saturnian, the Atka is loaded with sinuous ability to tame karmic influences. Eights work hard for their money and learn avidly from experience. The number of seriously rich and famous Number Eights are legion because nothing deters them from their objective. Lovers love their ardour. Everyone say Salut! Tamam shud.

Nine is the number of the genius, ruled by warrior planet Mars and reformist Uranus. Innovative, changeable, do-gooding Nines possess all our Tuesdays and are happiest making some kind of difference.

And those of us who cannot yet find a truth in all of this are worshippers of the Zifr, the Arabic zero, the sublime Fool of the Tarot deck, the unborn, full of possibility.

And so, before I go, let me wish you all a very happy and satisfying 2006 which adds up to a lucrative and sure-footed number 8… Yes, therefore let’s make this a Goaty Capricornian Saturnian Good cold Night to you all.

(2,785 words)

Title: 777, 666, 786, 3, 7, 13 and friends

By Ghatotkach

Friday, 16th December 2005



This and all original essays on GHATOTKACHSERIES are copyright 2005 by Gautam Mukherjee. All Rights Reserved.