however, start approximately 20–45 days earlier (depending on whether one is born in a short dasa or a long one) than when employing Lahiri’s figure. These three to six weeks are of course quite significant when predicting the dates of events that appear in one’s horoscope. And this is the main reason that many astrologers spend time and effort testing whether the Lahiri Ayanāmśa works better than Krishnamurthi’s.
The calculation of Ayanāmśa favoured by Shil Ponde, on the other hand, produces horoscopes that vary from Lahiri by more than 3º. This is a relatively huge horoscope discrepancy that causes many Lahiri-based ascendants and planets to change signs. Also, when using Shil Ponde’s calculation, the dasa bhukti starting dates occur between two and five years earlier than Lahiri’s. A person born in a short period, such as Mars, Sun, Ketu or Moon, begins his or her dasas approximately two years earlier when using Shil Ponde versus Lahiri, while a person born in a long dasa, such as Rāhu, Jupiter, Venus, Mercury or Saturn, begins his or her dasas about four or five years earlier with Shil Ponde.
Astrologers who use a Revatipakṣa Ayanāmśa (per Shil Ponde) argue, of course, that they use it not just for historical reasons, but because it produces the greatest horoscope accuracy – both with ascendants and dasa bhuktis. Those who use Lahiri, of course, give the same reason. They say it works best! To quote Andrew, ‘Let the games begin.’
My advice to astrologers using a different Ayanāmśa than what is advocated in this book is to remain open-minded and avoid passing judgement. Hard as it is to admit, what matters most are the results each astrologer produces for his or her clients, not which techniques and calculations are most perfect. In the same way that people rarely change their political or religious beliefs, it is doubtful that astrologers using an Ayanāmśa that has worked well for them will change. Disconcerting as all this may seem, it is quite possible – dare I say probable – that two astrologers using different Ayanāmśa could both produce largely accurate results, or at least provide great help to their clients.
Most seasoned astrologers I have met consider Jyotish to be an art/science; a field that is part empirical and scientific, and part intuitive or psychic. Indeed, when studying with my Indian mentors decades ago, I distinctly remember times when they made very accurate statements about my friends and family (whose horoscopes we analysed nightly) that made no astrological sense. Several times, I saw my mentors make accurate statements they seemed to pull from the ethers! When I asked for their reasoning in these cases I remained decidedly unconvinced by their answers.
Also, consider some age-old divination systems such as the I-Ching and Tarot cards, both of which have been uncannily accurate many times throughout my life (not always, but quite often I have found no predictive technique or system to be perfect). It has never made one whit of sense to me how throwing three coins in the air six times and then reading their textbook meanings could produce anything worthwhile. And how could ascribing meanings to 78 playing cards and then shuffling them and placing them in a certain order possibly predict the future? Well…in my experience, they have. They do.
Interestingly, while all Tarot decks give the same meanings to all cards, there is one odd variation. In many decks, the #8 card represents justice and the #11 card indicates strength, while in other decks the meanings are reversed. Does this mean that one reader gets accurate results and the other fails? No. For the reader using the #8 card as justice, his or her clients will draw the #8 when justice energy is arising. The clients of Tarot readers who consider the #11 card to represent justice will draw the #11 card when the same energy arises. This, like it or not, is simply the nature of oracles and predictive arts. To anyone who believes that astrology is strictly empirical and scientific, the Ayanāmśa dilemma will be profoundly disturbing.
I am, and have always been, an experience-based astrologer, who cares little for authoritative teachings and scriptural texts and so on, unless they produce predictive accuracy. Those who have read my second Jyotish book (Art and Practice of Ancient Hindu Astrology, written in 2001) know how adamant I am about any traditional techniques I have found lacking. I have never, for example, found Vargottama planets to produce anything special, as they are supposed to. Neechabhanga Rajayoga, in my practice, works in about 10 to 20 per cent of cases, enough to be essentially worthless, because even the best astrologers only produce about 70 to 80 per cent accuracy. As for Western astrology solar return charts (known as Varshaphal in Jyotish), I found them to be completely ineffective even before learning Jyotish. One of the earliest questions I asked my first Indian mentor, R. Santhanam, was about this technique. I was heartened that his words matched my experience: ‘They are useless and baseless’ (no offence to readers who use Solar Returns, I am aware of how many astrologers swear by them).
Nevertheless, in spite of my disagreements with many scriptural teachings and respected authorities, and in spite of basing my practice entirely on techniques that work for me, I remain open to different views. Indeed, throughout a lifetime of professional practice, I have gone back every so many years to re-visit the techniques mentioned above (and others) that I determined decades ago do not work. I do this because it is always possible that, with added experience and wisdom, my views could change. I also do it because I consider mental flexibility, open-mindedness and passionate curiosity the most important qualities any astrologer can have.
During my first five or ten years in astrology, what fascinated me most was how a group of symbols on a page could so reveal a person’s life. The more time passed, however, the more my fascination changed to the question of why certain very seemingly clear astrological conditions in some horoscopes do not produce the effects they should.
Albert Einstein proclaimed that the reason he could produce mathematical, scientific results that eluded others was that he was comfortable wading in confusion until clarity might, hopefully, arise. To my mind, those who run from confusion, especially in our case from the all-important Ayanāmśa conundrum, get what they deserve – superficial experience, superficial results.
Had anyone told me that in 2017 I would be reviewing the Revatipakṣa Ayanāmśa to see if it worked because a strong historical and technical case had been made for it, I would have assumed they were crazy. I concluded decades ago, based on horoscope research, that this calculation was all but absurd. All these years later, I still find it produces significantly inaccurate results. But, I can say for sure that after reading this book what I have learned about historical ‘astronomical observations’ and its comparisons to Lahiri’s and Krishnamurthi’s will keep me pondering the issue for years to come. For that, I say bravo to Andrew Mason. And bravo for the care, dedication and seriousness he has put into this book!
James Braha
Vedic Astrologer and author of Ancient Hindu Astrology
for the Modern Western Astrologer and The Art
and Practice of Ancient Hindu Astrology
INTRODUCTION
I.1 ANCIENT TECHNOLOGIES
The gods of the Sun1 and Moon2 are often portrayed in attendance to The Medicine Buddha.3 Worship within the temple of the Medicine Buddha is said to be good for study of medicine and health. Shingon Mikkyō considers the Medicine Buddha to be secretive and hidden (mystical). He illuminates (like the Sun and Moon) only those that are worthy – yet his hand is outstretched showing he grants boons. Atharva Veda describes the removal of sickness via the use of this deity’s mantra and a certain black wood.
The Gods of Shingon Mikkyō by Sato Tamotsu
Although a number of ‘occult’ sciences remain intact into the 21st century, many have been lost or driven into semi-obscurity. Much of what is today called pseudo-science or ancient superstition had in the past important practical application. These ancient technologies were often melting pots of observable phenomena and ritual that when combined could be used to coerce Providence or the Fates to manifest a favourable outcome.
In the past there were quite literally necromancers, rain-makers, oracles, magicians and geomancers. Those