The Irony of an HR Professional With Nowhere to Go
There is a particular cruelty in being the person everyone comes to for workplace grievances and having no one to go to yourself. Anjali Nair had spent eleven years in human resources, the last four as a senior HR executive at a mid-size IT services company in Kochi's Infopark. She had designed the company's anti-harassment policy. She had conducted the POSH training workshops. She knew the PoSH Act section by section. And none of that mattered when the person harassing her was the director of business development — a man who reported directly to the CEO and brought in forty percent of the company's revenue.
It started with comments. Then it became corridor blocking, deliberate meeting exclusions, and a pattern of belittling remarks made just loudly enough for her team to hear. When she raised it informally with the CEO, she received a response that she later recognized as a textbook dismissal: "He's like that with everyone. Don't take it personally." She filed a formal Internal Complaints Committee (ICC) case in March. By June, the committee — which included two of the director's golfing partners — issued a finding of "insufficient evidence" despite email records and a witness statement from her junior colleague.
A Question That Demanded an Honest Answer
Anjali's husband, a marine engineer who spent months at sea, called from his ship one night and listened as she described the ICC verdict. His advice was immediate: get a lawyer. Anjali's hesitation was not about money or even fear — it was about consequences. In the Kochi IT community, taking legal action against an employer was career suicide. Companies talked. HR professionals who sued their own organizations were quietly blacklisted. She had two children in school and a home loan in both names. The stakes were not theoretical.
That night, unable to sleep, she opened ShreeKundli. She had been using it for months — mostly the Life Prediction feature for family and health, occasionally the Daily Forecast. But tonight she navigated to Prashna Kundli and typed the question that had been circling her mind for weeks: "Should I take legal action against my employer?"
The Prashna chart, cast at 11:42 PM, was unambiguous in its structure. The 6th lord — the ruler of the house governing enemies, litigation, conflict, and disputes — was strong and placed in a favorable position (an angular house, giving it operational power). The 6th house itself had benefic influence, suggesting that the litigation would proceed favorably for the querent. The Moon, representing Anjali's emotional state and the question's sincerity, was waxing and unafflicted, confirming the question was genuine and the path forward was clear.
In Prashna (horary) astrology, the 6th house directly represents enemies, legal disputes, and the outcome of confrontations. A strong 6th lord in an angular house (1st, 4th, 7th, or 10th) gives the querent advantage in the conflict. When benefics like Jupiter or Venus influence the 6th, the dispute resolves through established systems (law, mediation) rather than protracted warfare. A waxing Moon in the Prashna chart confirms the querent's intention is genuine and the situation is ready for resolution.
"I didn't ask ShreeKundli whether I had been wronged — I already knew that. I asked whether I would win if I fought. The chart said yes. That was the only permission I needed."
Mars Antardasha and the Courage to Send the Notice
ShreeKundli's analysis went beyond the Prashna chart. It examined her natal chart's current dasha period and found that her Mars antardasha was active. Mars — Mangal — is the planet of courage, combative energy, direct action, and the refusal to be pushed around. Mars antardasha doesn't just permit confrontation; it demands it. People in Mars antardasha who suppress their fighting spirit often develop health issues, anxiety, and misplaced anger. The chart was telling Anjali that the universe had already armed her for this battle; the only thing missing was her decision to fight.
The Vedic Remedies recommended were focused on sustaining courage. Primary among them: daily recitation of the Hanuman Chalisa, the forty verses in praise of Lord Hanuman, who embodies fearless devotion and the defeat of evil. The remedy specified morning recitation, facing east, with a specific sankalp (intention) stated before beginning: "I seek courage to act in accordance with dharma." Additionally, the remedy suggested wearing a red coral (Moonga) ring on the ring finger to amplify Mars's protective warrior energy, and making Tuesday donations of red lentils (masoor dal) and jaggery.
Anjali started the Hanuman Chalisa the next morning. She was not a regular temple-goer — she was the kind of Malayali Christian-born woman who had married into a Hindu family and embraced the traditions selectively. But the Chalisa's rhythm, its insistent declaration that courage is divine and fear is a choice, resonated with something she needed desperately at that moment. She memorized it within a week.
A Tuesday Legal Notice
ShreeKundli recommended that the formal legal notice be sent on a Tuesday — Mangalvar, Mars's own day — for maximum planetary support. Anjali hired a labor lawyer in Ernakulam who specialized in PoSH cases. Together, they drafted a detailed legal notice citing the company's failure to comply with the Sexual Harassment of Women at Workplace Act, 2013, the ICC's compromised composition, and the hostile work environment created by the director's documented behavior. The notice demanded a formal external inquiry, compensation for mental distress, and an organizational restructuring of the ICC.
It was sent by registered post on a Tuesday morning in August.
The response was faster than Anjali expected. Within ten days, the company's legal counsel called her lawyer. Within three weeks, the CEO requested a private meeting. Within six weeks of sending the notice, the company offered a settlement: a formal written apology, the director's transfer to a different office, a reconstituted ICC with external members, and a financial settlement that Anjali's lawyer described as "more than fair." Anjali accepted. She did not want to destroy the company. She wanted it to function the way its own policies — the ones she had written — said it should.
"The Hanuman Chalisa didn't write my legal notice. My lawyer did. But the Chalisa is why I picked up the phone to call the lawyer in the first place. Mars antardasha gave me the fire. ShreeKundli showed me it was already lit."
What Changed Afterward
Anjali stayed at the company. She chose to stay. The new ICC handled two more cases in the following year, and both resulted in appropriate action — something that would not have happened under the old structure. The director, transferred to the Trivandrum office, was quietly let go six months later for unrelated performance issues. Anjali received a promotion to Head of People and Culture in February, a role that gave her the authority to prevent what had happened to her from happening to others.
She continues the Hanuman Chalisa as a daily practice. "I started it for courage," she says. "I continue it for clarity. They're not so different." She recommends ShreeKundli to friends going through difficult decisions — not for the prediction, she clarifies, but for what she calls the "cosmic permission slip." Sometimes the hardest part of doing the right thing is believing you have the right to do it. A chart that says "fight" can be the difference between silence and justice.