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What I did?

My clients never come to me to destroy their lives or derail their businesses. They come because they want clarity. And as a graphologist, it becomes my responsibility to balance knowledge with common sense. There are times when graphotherapy can transform a life, and there are times when giving it blindly can do more harm than good. With Mr. Singhania, this balance was crucial.

My first priority was not to change any stroke in his handwriting, but to make him see the truth. Giving him graphotherapy for traits he proudly justified would have been meaningless. He was in a deep state of self-deception, and when a person is protecting his flaws as if they are virtues, no correction will work—not even the best one.

I also did not want to disturb the very traits that were holding his empire together. Many of his negative traits were, in his world, tools of survival. Removing them abruptly would have been like pulling out the pillars of a building while the building was still occupied. What he needed was not a full transformation; he needed one crack in the armour—one opening where the truth could enter.

And so, the only graphotherapy I gave him was for self-deception.

Human beings are masters at deceiving others, but we are greatest at deceiving ourselves. Throughout life, we hide our intentions, our fears, our failures—sometimes from the world, but mostly from our own eyes. We all want to believe that we are good, that our choices are noble, that our path is justified. And when our flaws threaten this image, the mind does what it does best: it hides them.

Across cultures, this has been understood for centuries. A Japanese proverb captures it beautifully: “Though we see the seven defects of others, we do not see our own ten defects.”

The truth is, life offers several moments where the façade cracks—where self-deception falters and the real self stands exposed. These moments are painful, but they are also golden opportunities. In Singhania’s case, that opportunity came through his handwriting. He had a rare chance to look at himself without filters and correct a trait that was silently shaping the rest.

But when confronted with the terrifying idea that some part of his personality is built upon negative strokes, a person like Singhania will not collapse—he will retreat. He will escape into work, drown himself in routines, surround himself with success, material comfort, and the applause of the world. He will strengthen every illusion he has ever created, and self-deception will become his shield.

If you turn to Page 18 of my book, you will notice I had already mentioned self-deceit as one of his negative traits. A man who cannot see his mistakes will never correct them. A man who believes every trait is working in his favour will never allow change. At such a stage, making him realize what is wrong becomes more important than fixing anything else.

In graphology, self-deception reveals itself in a small but powerful way: the inner loop formed on the left side of the small letter ‘o’.

Whether the writer forms it consciously or as a by-product of connecting letters, the trait remains valid. A trained eye can also spot the same loop in the circular parts of ‘a’, ‘d’, and ‘g’. And the rule is simple: The bigger the left loop, the deeper the self-deception.

I knew that unless this one loop changed, no other graphotherapy would reach him. So that is where I began. Not with stubbornness, not with greed, not with anger, not with procrastination— but with the only trait that stood between him and the truth.

Only after he sees himself clearly can any other change follow.