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FOREWORD

For scholarly astrologers, Jyotish: The Art of Vedic Astrology is one of the most important books of the last four decades. It is an encyclopaedic text providing the origins of the myriad body of ancient Indian astrological techniques, and a real contribution to our field. It is enormously detailed and spectacularly researched. This is a book that will thrill academic-minded Vedic astrologers who want to dig deeper into every facet of the miraculous star language.

Anyone expecting an ordinary introductory book will, I dare say, be disappointed. And, in any case, there are now enough introductory texts written by both Westerners and Easterners to satisfy all tastes. The material you are about to read is not ordinary because Andrew Mason is as far from an ordinary astrologer as anyone I have ever met. He is passionate about metaphysics, determined in his ways, and driven to find the truth and historical accuracy of all astrological material.

Unlike the focus of my work and writing, which has been generally to determine which techniques work the best and which fall short so we can produce the most accurate horoscope readings possible, Andrew wants to discover the roots and very basis of all astrological knowledge. What, for example, are the origins of gemstones as remedial measures, and when were gems first mentioned in ancient texts? What is the basis for planetary Upayes (healing methods)? How are planetary yagyas performed, and are they more powerful than talismans, yantras or other methods? Which ancient texts appear most trustworthy, and are their statements borne out by direct observations of the skies? What does Sûrya Siddhânta say and why? What did Varāhamihira conclude?

Andrew, to be frank, is very nearly a questioning machine who has actually had to learn to manage his unrelenting curiosity and drive for answers in order not to offend teachers and mentors. From Andrew’s view, no astrological knowledge or technique should be blindly accepted without some solid historical basis and proven logic – or at least before given serious deliberation. This has not always sat well with Andrew’s teachers, for many different reasons. But it is this intense drive that is responsible for the detailed and intricate information you are about to read, and the reason Andrew addresses so many issues – mathematical, technical and theoretical – that are so often ignored or treated superficially by others.

Upon first reading this book, I called Andrew to discuss what was, for me, an overwhelming amount of detailed, technical material. I asked whether he felt he might have included too much information. To my surprise, his response concerned his fear that he had ‘short-changed the reader by not including enough!’ Therein, of course, lies the beauty of this text for those who want to delve deeper than ever before. Not only is there an enormous amount of information, the work is detailed and meticulous.

Like many astrologers, Andrew came upon the star language in a roundabout way. In his twenties, he was plagued with a painful injury and spent 12 years seeking a cure. This led him to Āyurveda, the Hindu healthcare method that incorporates Jyotish, which grabbed him so profoundly that he opted to study in Śrī Laṇkā on a one-year internship, longer than the three-month requirement. Eventually, as happens to many Āyurvedic students, a fascination with astrology took hold and never let go.

This book is divided into five major sections, and I would love to point to the best, most fascinating, one. The task, however, is impossible. Every section is more intricate and insightful than the next. When asked for his opinion, Andrew said he favours the section on Upayes, healing methods. As he explained, ‘Everyone has aspects of their horoscopes that are challenging. What good is Jyotish if it doesn’t provide cures and ameliorations?’ I agree completely, and have argued for decades that too many Westerners practicing Vedic Astrology ignore or downplay astrological Upayes. But, to the question of which part of this book is best, the answer must be based on each reader’s particular interest. Because, as you will soon see, each section is like a book unto itself.

To say that the field of Jyotish is vast is an understatement, especially in Eastern astrology, where there are techniques, methodologies and systems that one could easily study beyond the length of one lifetime. To make matters worse, disagreements, complexities and conundrums abound. In India, at the front of many temples sit two lions, as if guarding the door. The lions are said to represent the two issues which stop disciples from what the temple has to offer – God. The two issues are doubt (that God exists) and paradox (that which appears contradictory or impossible and yet is true). If one intends to approach anywhere near a mastery of Jyotish, he or she absolutely must embrace paradox, and make peace with a significant level of confusion.

The first problem occurs when an astrologer tries to analyse the charts of twins who are born within seconds, or a minute or two, of each other. The horoscopes are near exactly the same (including, quite often, the major Varga charts – Navamsha D-9 and Dasamsha D-10) yet the two lives are dramatically different. The careers diverge, one twin divorces while the other is happily married, one is extroverted, the other somewhat shy, and so on (I am aware that some astrologers cite the Shastiamsha (D-60) Varga chart as significant for twins, but the D-60 has absolutely nothing to do with career or marriage, to name only two major life conditions). We know from experience that astrology works. So, what gives?

The next problem occurs about five to ten years into our practice, when, if we are truly honest with ourselves and diligent in our work, we come to realise that no one astrological feature works 100 per cent of the time, no matter how definitive the indication. I am referring to planets in their highest degree of exaltation, without afflictions or bad aspects from other planets, giving mediocre or poor results rather than what they should produce. Or very badly aspected planets that once in a great while produce quite positive effects. I am not, to be clear, unaware that certain features of a horoscope can unduly influence the tenor of an entire horoscope, thus rendering other features less effective. We all know that if Saturn, for example, sits on the ascendant or tightly aspects many planets, the whole chart is affected and the person may fail to realise many of the positive features. Nor am I ignoring horoscope-altering techniques such as Neechabhanga and other important yogas. Those are obvious explanations. I am addressing relatively ordinary horoscopes where a profoundly positive or profoundly negative indication simply falls completely flat. In over 35 years of practice, I have witnessed this odd and rare phenomena a few too many times. Quite simply, there is not one definitively powerful positive or negative feature in all of astrology that, if we are honest, we have not seen utterly fail at least a few times. Why does this happen?

Next comes the issue of different astrological systems sometimes contradicting each other or indicating dramatically different outcomes. In the fall of 1992, about three or four months before my second marriage, an interesting thing happened. Using the most popular and widely used Jyotish system, Parasara, I could not find any indications whatsoever of my upcoming wedding. Nor could I find any such indications in my Western horoscope transits or progressions. Yet, I was sure I would marry. One day the phone rang and my friend Richard Houck, author of several Hindu astrology books and someone who also used Western solar, primary and lunar progressions, called to tell me to stop making wedding plans because there was positively nothing indicating marriage! The call was shocking because Rick had a wonderful predictive track record. He lived near Washington, DC and consistently predicted political elections accurately. He also had a thriving professional astrology business, and actually rectified the horoscope of every single client he ever worked for. If several major events did not occur in the client’s life at the time the horoscope indicated, he would back up the birth time or move it forward until the chart fit. If rectifying the birth time required a big time change to produce accuracy, he refused to read the chart until the person did more research on their birth data.

When Rick made his declaration of no marriage, I replied, ‘I know, Rick. I can’t find marriage in my Hindu or Western chart. But I am getting married.’ ‘No, you’re not,’ he said, while laughing. Well, the marriage occurred on schedule and 24 years later is still going strong, thank you very much. Later that year, about nine or ten months after my wedding, I taught at the Vedic Astrology Conference in California. There I met K.N. Rao, who gave a workshop on the Jaimini astrological system. I asked him if marriage showed up in my horoscope in 1993 within the Jaimini system and he replied, ‘Yes, yes. It is right here.’ At first, sceptic that I am, I had my doubts. But as I studied, it became obvious that he was not lying. In October 1991, at the age of 40, I entered Libra dasa. Libra is the sign of relationships and in my chart Libra holds Mercury, the marriage indicator within my Jaimini horoscope (the marriage indicator is called Dara Kāraka, and is the planet in the lowest degree of all the planets. Mercury is in the 3rd degree of my chart, lower than all others). As soon as Libra dasa started, I began the strongest relationship in more than a decade, and within 15 months we married.

These are but a few of the complexities, conundrums and paradoxes in our field. Which brings us to the most critical and controversial astrological issue of all, the all-important Ayanāmśa. The Ayanāmśa, described fully in Chapter 1 – and in more detail than I have ever seen – is the calculation that allows astrologers to determine when the coincidence of the two zodiacs, the tropical (based on the spring equinox) and the sidereal (based on fixed stars), last occurred. It is generally accepted that this event happened somewhere between 200 and 550 AD. This 350-year discrepancy, unfortunately, can cause a horoscope error of up to approximately 5º. Aside from causing ascendants of many horoscopes to change signs, the dasas and bhukti dates become radically altered.

Disagreements about which date and calculation to use have been so prevalent over the centuries that in 1952 the Government of India commissioned seven academics, one of whom (N.C. Lahiri) also had some prior knowledge of astrology, to come up with a decisive figure that the government would sanction. The result, after three years of research, became what is called the Lahiri Ayanāmśa. And it is now the most popular, widely accepted calculation by astrologers.

Andrew reports that researching the Ayanāmśa issue is akin to opening a Pandora’s box of epic proportions. The deeper he delved, the more technical and historical problems he found – from all the proposed Ayanāmśa figures. To mention a few issues: al-Bīrūnī (the 10th-century AD Islamic scholar), travelling in India, noted that astrologers’ and astronomers’ identification of certain key stars (used to plot zodiacal increments) varied from region to region. Next, what appear to be singular points of light are sometimes two stars which, when viewed at great distance, appear as one. Then, while some ancient texts appear to be aware of the precession of equinoxes, others do not. Further, many of the centuries-old texts we use today appear to have been periodically rewritten over the centuries, with some authors adding their own thoughts and views without acknowledgement. As if all this is not enough, it seems that the rate of precession is not constant, and by all accounts has sped up in the last 2000 years. This little-known phenomena, according to Andrew, is not well understood. If so, delineating an accurate Ayanāmśa is, for all practical purposes, impossible. Pandora’s box indeed.

Andrew suggests that perhaps the clearest remaining textbook description of Ayanāmśa may be given in Sûrya Siddhânta (written sometime within the 4th century AD) and confirmed by Varāhamihira in his Pañca Siddhântika (5th century AD). This figure, properly referred to as Revatipakṣa, was also followed by the respected astrologer Shil Ponde. In Chapter 1 of his book Hindu Astrology (1939), he suggests an Ayanāmśa based on Revatipakṣa, this appearing to be the most historically relevant in his era.

Andrew makes a strong astronomical case for Ponde’s calculation, and it is easy to accept that Indian astrologers may have used this Ayanāmśa because it was promoted in Sûrya Siddhânta, one of the most respected and trustworthy ancient texts. This I do not doubt.

The problem, however, is that, as a practising astrologer for over 30 years, the only Ayanāmśas that have worked for me have been Lahiri’s and (occasionally) Krishnamurthi’s. These two Ayanāmśas are extremely close to each other (within 5 or 6 seconds) and therefore produce horoscopes with near-exact ascendant degrees. The dasa bhukti periods and sub-periods starting points using Krishnamurthi, 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