As a child I
sometimes went and visited and stayed with cousins during holidays. One such
visit really broadened my horizon. The cousin's place was a fairly big old house
with quite a few rooms. Unfortunately, however, we were never allowed to
explore the rooms or even enter them. This was, because my aunt assured me,
there were "baghs" (tigers), "jujus" (loosely translated as
ghouls or the flesh-eating-undead) and "bhoots" (ghosts) in every
corner. Specially as night fell, these creatures would lurk behind curtains,
hide in dark corners and basically attack us if we shouted, played loudly, disobeyed
the elders, fussed over our meals or did not sleep at the assigned bedtime.
As I had never
encountered any such creatures in my own household, predictably, I was
fascinated. And, I must admit, more than just a little frightened.
I returned home
soon enough. One day while we were sitting for dinner, my dad asked me to get
my grandfather's glasses from my grand-parents' room. The room in question
could be reached after a short walk down a rather dark corridor and was itself
lying in darkness. I would have to reach it, fumble for the light and then
search the room for the glasses. We lived, it is to be remembered, in a older
house with large rooms and more than enough furniture. With the new creatures occupying
my head, the task was daunting. So I mumbled something about a tiger.
My father
stopped mid-sentence. Tiger? he was shocked. And angry. The next thing I knew
he had a torch in one hand and I was accompanying him to find the animal.
Frankly, I was scared but did not dare argue. Obviously, my dad did not switch
on any lights. He made me look for that tiger with the torch light, even
sweeping the beam under the beds. In the end he finally switched on all the
lights and made me check again. I was convinced there were no tigers (or the
like) out there.
When my
daughters were young, many a time, many a maid, relative or well-wisher used to
attempt to coerce obedience by talking
about jujus and tigers and ghosts. I was
resolute that my kids or even their friends would not ever be threatened with
such creatures. I was very vocal, even rude about it. But I absolutely would
not have my girls growing up frightened of the dark or strange creatures that
just waited to pounce. And even now I frown when I meet kids who have strange
creatures planted in their head. I keep insisting that none of it is real. And
they look back at me wide-eyed as though I am talking in some strange tongue.
"Real life
has enough to be frightened about," my dad used to say, " do not
burden yourself with nameless fears."
So true.
