Quite, the souls may be using the “celestial clock” having the twelve zodiac constellations (Aries, Taurus, Gemini and so on) as the numbers 1 thru’ 12 that figure on the dial of our watch and may be using the “moon” as its “day-arm” and the “sun” as its “minutes-arm” (in lieu of the “minutes-arm” and the “seconds-arm” of our watches).
It proves that when we die, the souls do not die.
They keep a tab on us and try to help us by manoeuvring such things, in our life.
Another interesting story that also suggests how the souls manoeuvre things by going even out of the way
It takes me back to the days when I used to work in a public sector factory located deep in South India where we had a coterie of about four or five North Indian friends such as me and the Chief Medical Officer of the company – who used to mingle with each other almost on all occasions.
Though I happen to be an engineer I married a gynaecologist, way back in the year 1967. It so happened that within a few months of our marriage our company announced some vacancies of doctors in its hospital.
So my wife also applied against this ad and I was very sure that, since the Chief Medical Officer was so well known to me, she would get selected as a Medical Officer particularly because I came to know that our company had a policy of giving preference to the dependants of the employees to fill the vacancies over the outside candidates.
But it came to me as a big shock to learn that the Chief Medical Officer not only rejected her, he went on some upcountry tour so as to avoid any unpleasantness on this account.
When I got the whiff of it, I met the General Manager and apprised him that since my wife had been working as a Gazetted Officer prior to the marriage it was not understandable if there should have been any valid reasons for her not having been selected.
Convinced by my argument, he took a second opinion from some local doctors and over-ruled the grounds on which the Chief Medical Officer had disqualified her.
But I felt so damn annoyed with the dirty game played by the Chief Medical Officer that I yelled out a curse on him that he may be damned to live in a colony of lepers, knowing little that such a curse would go a long way to spiral out.
It so happened that he conducted an operation on the wife of the General Manager even though it was not at all called for, which infuriated the General Manager so much that he issued him, marching orders giving him just three months’ time to look for a job somewhere else.
Years rolled by and it came as a big surprise to us to have come to know that he had landed up in a missionary hospital of lepers only about sixty kilometres away down from there, where we all even went to felicitate him – out of good gesture.