Aunty Megala walked as fast as her arthritis allowed her.
She couldn’t feel the lunch time sun burn her bare arms. The desperation and hunger seared her more. She hobbled faster.
After an eternity, she reached the main entrance of the decrepit shrine, nestled among dying rubber tress.
“Aiyo,” she sighed at the queue before the old priest. She glanced at her watch. It was almost 2pm. But there was still 2 hours to go before ‘Rahu Kala’ ended. She decided to check her offerings – 3 eggs, 3 limes, 108 ringgit.
She looked up at a smiling lady walking out. A good prediction then. She herself needed more than a prediction. When her turn came, she smiled nervously at the priest, who took the offerings and gave her a small packet of white powder.
“Mix it into his drink tonight. No one will suspect you in the morning.”