I didn’t take numerology seriously until 2017, when a man named Harish in Lokhandwala looked at my birth date, scribbled a few numbers on a page, and then told me—without hesitation—that I would move homes before my next birthday. At the time, I laughed it off. But three months later, my landlord sold the building and I was frantically signing a rental agreement for a flat on Mira Road. Coincidence? Maybe. Still made me pay attention.

Numerology is, at its simplest, the study of the symbolic meaning of numbers and their supposed influence on a person’s life. The core idea is that numbers aren’t just quantities—they carry vibrations, qualities, and patterns. Every letter in your name corresponds to a number, every date adds up to a “life path,” and every number, from 1 to 9 (plus the “master numbers” 11, 22, and sometimes 33), has a personality of its own.

The most common system today is the Pythagorean method. It’s straightforward: assign letters A through I the numbers 1 to 9, then repeat the cycle for J through R and S through Z. Add them up, reduce them to a single digit (unless it’s a master number), and you get your core numerology numbers—like your Life Path, Expression, Soul Urge. Each is said to reveal something different: your direction, your natural talents, your hidden desires.

But here’s where it gets weirdly fascinating. It’s not just about your birth date or name. Numerologists will sometimes look at your phone number, your house address, even the dates you sign contracts. I once met a shop owner on Abdul Rehman Street who swore that changing his store’s opening day from the 17th to the 19th doubled his foot traffic. He said 8 (1+7) had been “too heavy,” while 1+9=10, and 1+0=1, was fresh, new energy.

Skeptics argue it’s all psychological—confirmation bias, selective memory. And honestly, that’s a fair point. But then there are those eerie moments where the numbers line up too neatly. Like when I started a project on the 5th of May and later found out my personal year number was also a 5, which in numerology is linked to change and movement. That year ended up being the most chaotic, transformative year of my life.

Some people treat numerology almost like weather forecasting for their personal lives. A “2” year might be about partnerships, a “7” year about introspection, a “9” year about closure. It’s not about inevitability—it’s about being aware of the climate you’re walking into. You can still carry an umbrella or decide to step outside anyway.

There’s also the Chaldean system, older and said to be more mystical, which uses a different number-letter mapping and places more emphasis on compound numbers. I tried learning it once, but the math kept tripping me up—partly because I was doing it on a crowded BEST bus and the conductor kept yelling “Change! Change!” in my ear.

So, how does it work? Depends on who you ask. Believers will tell you it’s about vibrational frequencies—numbers resonating with universal energies. A more psychological take would be that numbers give us archetypes to project meaning onto, a framework for reflection.

Whether it’s metaphysics or just another human way of pattern-seeking, numerology can be a surprisingly sharp mirror. It’s less about telling you exactly what will happen and more about helping you notice what’s already unfolding.

And maybe that’s the point. Numbers are everywhere—on clocks, receipts, license plates—and if you choose to see them as signposts instead of random noise, you might just start finding a strange kind of order in the chaos. Or maybe, like me in 2017, you’ll just end up moving house and wondering if that guy in Lokhandwala was onto something all along.