Twice in ten minutes

About fifteen years ago I was sitting in a very small cafe called the Honeydew in Pushkar, India and the man sitting opposite me was reading a book. The book had a beautiful blue binding and decorated cover. I commented on this to the man and struck up a conversation. He was American and told me that it was a book of poetry by Rumi. I had never heard this name before so he spelled 'RUMI' in capitals on a piece of paper and placed the paper on the table as I thought that I might take it to a book shop and perhaps buy one for myself. He left. A Japanese woman came into the cafe and sat down opposite me where the American had been sitting and looked at the paper. She seemed confused and a little scared. I said, 'Hello...' and picked up the paper. She replied, 'Hello... my name is Rumi...' We both starred at the piece of paper. Spooky!