A star gazer is born....

Kisma Ayriars, the world’s greatest soothsayer was born on September 3, 1962 in the impoverished village of Llama in the far south of Tibet, exactly as he had predicted.
An only child, Kisma was a loner by choice, happily playing with himself and his model ships in his squalid and cramped bedroom above his parent’s very basic fine foods shop.
His life was to change forever when a group of senior Tibetan monks, drawn to the village in search of the Deli Llama, noticed that the drainpipe outside Kishma’s bedroom window was very rusty, full of holes and practically useless, exactly as foretold in ancient Buddhist scripts.
After lunch, the excited monks took the confused young boy north to a Lhasan safe house, free from the gaze and the guns of the dreaded Chinese overlords now controlling Tibet.
From day one, Kisma amazed the monks by reciting over and over again the exact date of the Titanic’s sinking and the number of people who drowned, despite never having seen the blockbuster movie that wouldn’t be made until almost a quarter-century later.
Word of Kishma’s mystic powers was leaked to the Chinese, and Kisma was forced to trek through deep snow drifts for months to eventual exile in remote northern India, where he adopted the name, Marihoochi Dreamer.
Word of his mystic powers – even at the tender of age of 10 – soon spread, and even The Beatles travelled to his hilltop hideaway for medication and advice.
John Lennon’s split from the band can be attributed to the very day Marihoochi shifted through the remains of Lennon’s roach clips, pushing the ashes with a twig this way and then that, beforeshaking his head ever so slowly side to side and whispering: “O, no.”
While in exile in Mother India’s deep north, a hard-drinking, foul-mouthed larrikin from Australia – on a backpacking expedition – stumbled into the then Marihoochi’s village.
The Australian stayed only a few days and during that time, according to villagers who still tell the tale, spent most of his time entangled with his travelling companies - two nubile Swedish women.
Other times he spent unconscious, waking only to vomit from excessive consumption of the traditional local brew made from fermented goat’s milk and a vodka-like potato-based liqueur.
Legend has it Marihoochi took a long look at the man and his unruly hair and mutton-chop sideburns and predicted a great future for him in the political world.
“One day, my son, you will be Prime Minister of your country,” Marihoochi said.
Like all of his predictions, it came to pass and little more than two decades later John Howard was elected to lead his nation.
UK chanteuse Marianne Faithful was one of the many celebrities who sought Marihoochi’s advice and guidance at that time.
She stayed for many weeks and – at Marihoochi’s insistence – slept in his room to test, as he explained to his disciples, his vow of celibacy.
Local villagers still recall – and some will mimic if asked – the mournful chants that emanated from Marihoochi’s bedroom during Marianne’s stay as he obviously fought and overcame the temptations of the flesh.
Marianne and the role she played in strengthening Marihoochi’s vows affected him deeply.
Even today the villagers recall him talking of the tremendous help and support she was to him at that time.
“She is a tremendous succour,” he would explain.
Marianne left and returned to London after Marihoochi predicted that by the time she turned 37she would never have ridden through Paris in a sports car with the warm wind in her hair.
Her parting affected Marihoochi deeply.
When Canadian singer/songwriter Leonard Cohen arrived in the village he found Marihoochi sitting cross-legged in his darkened room, saying over and over: “So long Marianne.”
Although details are sketchy, it’s believed Marihoochi fled from northern India shortly after Cohen offered to stay and cheer him up.
He and a group of loyal followers trekked south towards the port city of Bombay.
Throughout their journey Marihoochi spoke frequently of Marianne.
“I must follow Marianne,” he would say.
Some came to believe it was as if the spirit of Marianne was guiding their travel, plotting their progress and, by doing so, preventing anything bad happening to them.
This was confirmed by Marihoochi himself.
“She is a good route,” he would tell them.
On their first night in Bombay, Marihoochi had one of his frequent visions. He told his followers that in his vision he had seen a ship, and a traditional Indian stringed musical instrument.
“We must look for a ship named after a sitar. That ship will take me to Marianne. Then, I must leave you my friends,” he exclaimed.
His loyal followers scurried off and scoured the docks. They soon returned triumphantly.
“We have found it, Marihoochi,” they said exultantly.
There was little celebration among his disciples as Marihoochi bade them farewell before smuggling himself on board the ship and concealing himself in a lifeboat.
As the mighty ship cast off and powerful tugboats heaved it away from the wharf, Marihoochi’s disciples waved tearfully from the dock. Marihoochi lifted the canvas cover of his lifeboat and cautiously waved back.
As the huge stern swung around his followers on the dock grew agitated when they realised their mistake.
Unaware, Marihoochi settled in his cramped lifeboat, prayed that no disaster would befall the vessel during the night and fell asleep as the mighty Sitmar cruise ship headed for Australia
To avoid confusion, Kisma reverted to his given name when he arrived in Australia – Marihoochi Dreamer being the name of a then prominent racehorse.
Kisma settled in Brisbane and – after finally giving up his quest for Marianne Faithful – married Likma, a young woman from the local Indian community.
Although it was an arranged marriage, Kisma did eventually grow to love his wife and on their third wedding anniversary – which co-incided with her 14th birthday – they were blessed with a child, Sukma.
Over many decades, Kishma’s prophecies have been uncannily accurate, and he remains in world demand, advising corporate and political leaders around the globe of both future and past trends.
He writes exclusively for The Bug.