It’s a typically cold Bangalore morning when I step out for my Sunday 10k run. The area around my home is dotted with little hills, creating steep uphill roads that make a mockery of my calves and knees. As I huff and puff my way up, anxiously looking for the point where the road slopes down for some blessed relief, a hawk swoops in front of me. Wild wings all flapping and dangling a wriggling snake in its talons. I watch astonished.

In another instant, it sweeps past me, away into the open fields, dropping the hapless snake down. I turn, following its path, and as I watch the last of its magnificent wings fade away, I cross the road, waiting for the vehicle to go past. Its license plate screams into my shortsighted eyes – 5774. I sigh. “First sighting of the day,” I think.

What sighting? Over the past few months, I have been privileged to be part of a mysterious play of numbers. Wherever I go, whatever I do, every day, every single day I have had to see this combination of numbers – 774. Yes. Every day. And multiple sightings on the same day. On one particularly brilliant day – as many as 15 instances of this sequence.

What do the numbers mean?

I have no idea!

774 adds up to 18, which can be further reduced to 9. And Number 9 is my birth number. That’s about all I can deduce from it.

An associate at work tells me that 774 is the ‘Angel’s Number.’ If that is true, then I wonder, who is the angel? And what is this angel wanting to do with me?

A friend tells me that my mind is probably seeing more instances of this combination because you see what you are looking for. Which is a good theory. But then, I did not go looking for this number. Why should I? And if my mind were so powerful, I wish that I can see the $$$$$$ that I am hoping to see in my bank account. Sadly, that hasn’t happened. Yet.

Synchronicity abounds

When I visited my friend in Dublin last month, I told her that one of the first things I want to see is a graveyard. (Let me tell you about my love affair with graveyards in another post). Being a long-standing friend, she doesn’t raise an eyebrow at my strange request. No castles for me. Umm, show me a peaceful graveyard. Ok, no problem.

We get on the bus once we are done with our work to reach the graveyard. And there.

The bus stop number in front of the graveyard? You guessed it. 774.

We enter the peaceful place on a bright and gloomy day. (If you are a Dubliner, you will know what I mean when I juxtapose two seemingly disparate conditions like that). As I walk inside, I airily tell myself, “Ok, Universe, what are the odds of seeing a 9th June 1979 headstone?” I walk on, and 15 seconds after that thought (No, I kid you not), I pause and glance in disbelief at the headstone.

There.

9 June 1979.

Next to it lies a Number 18, the same strange addition of 774.

“You are creepy freaky,” my friend whispers. “I am getting goosebumps.” I shrug. “Why? How?” she asks. I shrug more. I wish I knew the answers. We take photos and walk around.

And then, I walk around more in my mind, tracing the magic that the world gives us.

Should I try to understand what 774 means? No. I tried. I failed.

I have given up trying to understand why I am shown 774 so often. The number pops up on license plates, on the book I am reading, on a bill I have to pay, or in a ticket I am purchasing. It’s EVERYWHERE.

I don’t know what it is the Universe wants me to know in such desperation. I am clearly missing something. But I have stopped questioning. Whatever it is, it will reveal itself. Till then, I can only marvel at the occurrences. I now have more than a 100 photos of different instances of 774 now. Would Time reveal what it is? Will this fade away? Surely, it has to, you think! I have tried ignoring it, paying it no attention. Only to have it come back to me where I simply can’t ignore anymore.

So, for now, I shake my head, and embrace this. I have failed in understanding this. Maybe, it means nothing. Maybe, it means everything. As with so many things in life, we can only laugh, cry, or just wonder. I like wondering. I would rather be the person of who you can say, “Ah! She died wondering.” So, let me wonder more…

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