THE LONG ARM—?

Otago Daily Times, Issue 22738, 26 November 1935, Page 21

THE LONG ARM—?

INDIAN CARD TRICK PROPHECY THAT CAME TRUE rWO STRANGE EXPERIENCES There must be few who have not heard at some time or another of the skill of the Indian jugglers. The story of the rope trick has travelled far and wide. Many people assert that it is a myth, a product of an ultra fertile mind and the subject has been one of endless controversy. i I myself have never seen the trick performed, nor do I know of anyone who has, so I Am unable to range myself on either side. But I have attended many conjuring performances in India, some exceedingly clever, others mediocre. There was one occasion, however, when I had a trick played on me—if you can call it by that name—which I think is worth recording and which provides food for thought, says a writer in John o' London's Weekly. T was stationed at Ambala, in the Punjab. One day I was asked out to dinner and the invitation told me that an Indian conjuror would give a performance afterwards. A party of 10 sat down to table that night, and after dinner we assembled in the comfortable drawing room. The conjuror, who was waiting outside on the veranda, was then summoned. He was a Mohammedan, well past middle age, with a benign face and a straggling red beard, which would ordinarily have been grey if it had not been dyed. He brought with him a bag full of the usual gadgets—cards, bits of rope, small fibre boxes, metal rings—which he proceeded to lay out on the ground. He had no assistant. "SHABASH, SAHIB." The first part of the performance was in no way out of the ordinary. Then he asked if one* of us was prepared to carry out his most difficult trick with some little help on his part. "It is a secret which is known to few," he added. " The sahib or memsahib will bo blindfolded. The others will, unknown to him, select a card from a pack and will shuffle. The blindfolded one, without touching tho pack, will then say which card they have selected." I offered myself for the part. The old conjurer wanted to blindfold me with sonie cloth which he extracted frdra his bag, but feeling that this might be somewhat unhygienic, I produced my own handkerchief and with that and a scarf my face was so securely bound that I Could see nothing whatsoever. Apparently the old conjurer himself stood about a yard from me. I heard much giggling from the others. At the same time I experienced a curious sensation creeping over my body. It was indefinable. My brain was entirely alert, but there was a bodily heaviness which worried me, a peculiar aloofness. "Which card have we chosen?" someone asked out of the darkness. Of course, I had, not got the least idea. It seemed so absurd, and so I determined that I would hazard no guess, so I remained silent. The dullness of my body appeared to increase, but I remained mentally alert. All of a sudden there was a loud chorus of laughter and approval. " Isn't it wonderful T I can't think how he does it," someone said. "Let's try him again," another suggested. Once more there was a whispering from the others. "Can you say which cai-d this is?" I was asked. Again I made no reply. This time I felt a certain drowsiness of brain as well as of body. I fought against this inertia with all my power. Somehow I had no desire for speech. The noise of much laughter came to my ears, as I felt my head being relieved of its bandage. The numbness quickly left me and both my brain and body returned to normal. The old conjuror was by my side, smiling appreciatively, ingratiatingly. " Shabash, sahib," he said. " You i»re a very clever sahib. Never have I seen anyone who did it so well." Words of praise, astonishment and query came from the others. WAS IT MESMERISM? I was dumbfounded. I asserted that I had said nothing, that I had remained silent all through, but I was not believed. They insisted that I had named the chosen card in both cases. There was no question about it. They had seen my lips move and apparently I had spoken with my natural voice- I put forward the possibility of ventriloquism, but they would have none of it. They were so close to me that there was > chance of their making any mistake. They explained that the words had come from my mouth and not the conjuror's. Of course there was endless talk and argument among us after he had departed. We looked at my experience from every standpoint. Eventually we came to the conclusion that the conjurer had employed some form of mesmerism, whereby he had willed me to disclose the name of the card. I had been blindfolded and it is generally understood that, in order to enforce his power, a mesmerist has invariably to look into the eyes of his victim. Unless the conjurer had done so as he was blindfolding me (and I had no remembrance of this), he had no further opportunity of doing io later The party broke up well after lidnight and the conjuring performance, so dull at first, so intriguing later, was a topic of conversation for many days afterwards. THE HOLY MAN'S CURSE. Here is another curious experience. It was in the early days of the hot weather, when the sun was beginning to put forth its strength; the days were distinctly warm, the nights pleasantly cool. At that time moonlight picnics were the vogue. One Saturday evening ten people, five men and five girls, started off on such a picnic. The spot they had chosen lay on a promontory overhanging a river which raced and swirled and tumbled a couple of hundred feet below. The side of this plateau overlooking the river was precipitous. There was a small copse, in the centre of which was a glade of soft green turf, and a spring nearby. One could not imagine a more delightful picnic place. At the corner of the copse and in the vicinity of the spring was a Mohammedan shrine where a Pir, or holy man, had been laid to rest in days gone by. Close to the grave was a small wooden hut where dwelt the guardian of the shrine, an old man with a bent back and a wizened face, wearing indescribably dirty clothes. It would be impossible to give an estimate of his age. They sat about on the grass in that moon-drenched clearing, talking of this and that until someone suggested supper. Whereupon they got busy. While they unpacked the eatables two of the party, whom I shall call Tom and Peter, went off to the spring to fill the kettle. Some minutes later the others heard a noise of altercation in the direction of the shrine. The high-pitched, wheezy tones of the old mullah, the laughing retorts of Tom and Peter, which changed to anger as.the old Indian said something which displeased them. They both returned in high dudgeon. " The "old blighter refused to let us take water from the spring," Tom remarked. '' Said something about the place being

sacred. I. couldn't understand all he said. Dash it, he does not own the bally place." "What did you do? Didn't you get any water?" someone asked. "Of course, I did. I pushed the silly old man on one side and got the water all right. Here's the kettle full." "He threatened us both with all sorts of dreadful things," Peter added, laughing. " Said that one of us would come to an untimely end almost at once and the other would die within a year. Poor old man, we left him grumbling to himself." COINCIDENCE? The incident was soon forgotten in the business of supper and the general chatter and laughter. Supper finished and cleared away, they sat about smoking. Tom, who was in love with one of the girls of the party, suggested a walk and, getting up, they left the circle, About five minutes later the sound of a loud scream was heard and the girl came running back. Her face was distraught with anguish and terror. "Tom's fallen over the precipice," she screamed. " Come quickly, we must rescue him. We must." Led by her, they all dashed to the spot where Tom had fallen. They shouted his name again and again, but no answer came back. Except for the gurgling of the river there was complete silence. They had brought with them a hurricane lamp, and this they lit. Two of them, with the aid of it, made their way by a narrow path down to the river bed, while the others remained above. They found his body on the rocks at the foot of the precipice. He was lying on his back, lifeless. Six months later Peter left India on furlough. The incident had played upon his mind more than he cared to admit. Not only did he feel the loss of his great friend deeply, but he could not forget the tragedy of that night and the fact that the old mullah's prophecy had been so uncannily fulfilled in the case of Tom. He left India in the best of spirits and quite determined to put it all out of his mind. A fortnight later a telegram was received to say that he had died of enteric fever at sea. Well, there it is. Whether the mullah had had anything to do with the deaths of Tom and Peter is open to argument. Many people will say that it was pure coincidence. But I wonder..