Omens and Superstitions and their ‘Ominous’ Implications

               Padma was plucking jasmines in her garden when she heard the starting sounds of her neighbour’s scooter.  She was first amazed to notice that the neighbouring uncle never went out without ‘ensuring’ good omen – one (and not both) of his unmarried daughters coming from the opposite direction.  It struck her that both of them, ‘Akka’s as she called them, were away at their grand mother’s place to spend the summer holidays.  How will uncle go out, she wondered.  She also recollected that Sakti, her mother, had warned not to be around when the neighbours moved out, to avoid unnecessary unpleasantness (‘Omens are just beliefs.  People use them to blame someone if something goes wrong’, was what her mother said).  Along with the buzzing sound of the breeze, she also happened to hear the reason why the uncle never went out that day.

* * * * * * * * *

          Venkateswarlu, the brother-in-law of Appa Rao, the neighbour, walked straight towards their home, and noticed Appa Rao preparing to go out.  He looked around, and found himself walking all alone.  He realised that it was not a favourable omen.  He was also a stickler to omens, but it hurt him that the same old practices that he scrupulously followed, now made him the bad omen.  Anyway, he decided to tackle it.  ‘Am the single Brahmin coming in front of you?’ he asked his brother-in-law.  Venkamma, Appa Rao’s wife, who stood on the threshold of their home as her husband was leaving, chipped in, ‘Yes, you are right, brother. Your arrival gives him the chance to have yet another cup of coffee, with you for company’.  As the footsteps sounded towards their home, Padma made out why Appa Rao uncle had not gone out that day.

* * * * * * * *

          The morning alarm rang.  It was 6.15 a.m., a good hour-and-quarter before Padma was to start for her college.  Padma got ready at her usual pace, and then wore her watch.  She was alarmed.  It showed 7.37 a.m.  She had not even gulped the tumblerful of Bournvita that her mother gave her everyday.  She looked at the alarm clock.  It showed 6.30 a.m.  She realised that the alarm clock would have slowed down and stopped.  She tuned into the transistor, and realised that ‘Samskrita Patham’ (Sanskrit class), scheduled between 7.30 a.m. & 7.45 a.m., had already begun.  She might actually miss the bus whose route took her close to the college.  Just as she waved her mother goodbye at the gate of her home, she saw an auto coming towards her.  Padma looked at it to check if some guests landed up at home, unannounced (by the way, it was not at all uncommon in their household, and that will be the subject of a future story).  Out popped Chandru’s head.  ‘Hi, Annayya (elder brother)!’ greeted Padma.  No, Chandru was not the unexpected guest.  He was the son of the neighbours, Appa Rao and Venkamma.  ‘Chellai (younger sister), please go inside, wash your feet and then go out’, he told her.

          Padma was worried.  The possibility of missing the 7.40 a.m. bus was for sure, and now this boy, on his reaching home on leave from work advised her to get back.  Sakti was not a firm believer in omens (Chandru’s initiation (thread ceremony)/ ‘Upanayanam’ had taken place last year, so he was twice-born, and, as he was alone when he was in the auto, it was the ‘single Brahmin’ omen and therefore bad), but she was not one to take chances with the life of her near and dear ones, especially the apple of her eye, Padma.  So she called Padma in, made her wash her feet (an indication of ‘re-entering’ home), and let her go.  As Padma walked towards the bus-stop, she saw the bus number 100G pass by.  She realised she was late by a minute or so, but she had missed the bus.  She tried to wave the bus to a halt (some kind-hearted drivers normally obliged college students) but realised that this driver gave precedence to duty over compassion. She was upset, but what could she have done?  Everything had happened before she could process the occurrence and take her own decision.  Anyway, the first bus that stopped was not going closer to the college, and would take a circuitous route by the Beach Road to reach a junction, about a kilometre away from the college.  She would have to walk a hundred metres to reach the stop of buses which would take her to the college, wait for the bus, probably get into a crowded bus and get off at the college bus stop.  There was a time-saving alternative, though.  It was walking.  But then that would drain her.  So, she let the bus number 10 go, even if it were not crowded.  Time passed by even as she brooded over her unnecessary difficulties.  Padma looked at her watch.  It showed 8.03 a.m.  Her college would start at 8.30 a.m., and she would make it only if she got a direct bus.  At 8.05 a.m., she got into 100 which took her to the nearly junction by about 8.22 a.m.  She could not take the chance of waiting for the connecting bus.  She walked at ‘running speed’ and reached the college by 8.28 a.m. (she was not walking on a ‘walker’s paradise’ but on a busy road), drained and tired.  Her class-mates congratulated her for having crossed the chequered flag of the non-existent ‘Vizag Marathon’!

* * * * * * * **

          Padma was in tears.  ‘Why did you call me home?  I was very worried if I’d reach the college in time.  If only I had not taken the decision of walking (running) to the college from the junction, I’d have had the ignominy of being a late comer!   Who invented these omens?’

          ‘I am not a strong believer in omens.  But, I did not want any evil to befall my daughter’, replied Sakti. 

‘Padma, don’t believe your mother.  She claims that she does not believe in omens, but she does.  I’ll tell you what happened shortly after we got married.  I was leaving for the University, and your mother was at the door to see me off.  She saw a barber come in the opposite direction, reminded herself that it was a bad omen, and called me back on some flimsy pretext.  I understood it, and pretended not to have heard her and went away.  Did anything had happen to me?’ said Soma.

‘Why did you not tell me about this event previously?  I too would have become ‘selectively deaf’ and avoided a lot of stress’.  Padma quipped in a weeping tone.

‘If you don’t want to follow the omens, don’t.  But don’t pretend.  I too should not have pretended, but it was very early after marriage, so I thought I should not hurt your mother.  Now she knows well that no matter the omen, my journey will go on’, Soma advised.

Padma recollected what happened in her maternal grandparents’ home when she went there to spend her summer holidays.

* * * * * * * * * *

Padma and her cousins had just returned from a beach trip.  Padma grew up close to the sea in Visakhapatnam, so she was always fond of saying a ‘hello’ to Samudra.  But her cousins lived in a land-locked city, and therefore, eagerly looked forward to the sea-shore.  Padma waited for her turn to have a bath and rid herself of the sand.

When her turn finally came, she picked up her clothes and towel and entered into the bathroom.  Just as she was crossing the entrance, she screamed.  A lizard had fallen on her, jumped to the ground and sped away.  Her uncles, aunts, and cousins came rushing to her.  Most of them presumed that she might have slipped and fallen on the soft mosaic flooring of her grandmother’s place.  When they found out what happened, each one hurled questions to ‘the best of their ability and knowledge’.

‘Did the lizard make any sound before or during or after the fall?’ asked one.

‘Where did it fall?’ was a common question. 

‘Shoulder’, replied Padma.

‘Left or right?’ asked another.

‘Have you been to Kanchipuram?’ enquired yet another.

‘No’, replied Padma thoughtfully, ‘what have silk sarees to do with lizards?  Is there any relationship between silk worms and lizards?’

‘You are such an ignorant nut.  All defects (‘doshas’) caused by lizard-fall are negated when once one touches the golden and silver lizards in the precincts of the Varadaraja Perumal temple in Kanchi’, replied the cousin, younger than Padma, but ‘wiser’.

‘Did it fall on your plait?’

‘Or on your veil?’

‘Veil?  I don’t wear any’, replied Padma. 

‘Or on your cheeks?’ continued the uncle.

‘Why did you get those doubts?  It fell on my shoulder, I repeat’.

She looked at the uncle who had a book in his hand.  Padma looked closely – it was an almanac.  He flipped through its pages, and stopped at a page indicating ‘Lizard Science’ ('Balli sastram’ in Telugu).  He read aloud as though he was speaking to himself of the effects of lizard-fall.

‘Veil – Widowhood.

'Plait – Harm to husband.

'Cheeks – Auspicious….

'Middle of the head – Disease.

'Upper part of the face – Monetary gain.

'Strands of hair falling on face – Danger.

'Hair ends – Easy death.

'Right eye – Defeat.

'Left eye – Insult.

'Nose – Failure.

'Ear – Bad news.

'Shoulder – Help.

'Spine – Fear of the devil.

'SHOULDER – HELP’, he announced aloud.

All the relatives were relieved.  Padma decided to have a head bath (to feel better).  But now, she was filled with self-doubt.  ‘Did it first fall on my plait (which I might not have noticed)?  What did uncle say?  Lizard fall on hair caused harm to husband?  But I don’t have any.  Thank God.  What if the curse were to become ‘operational’ after I got married?  God, it’s scary.  Or did it fall on my spine and move to my shoulder?  Will a ghost possess me?’ she continued to think on those lines.  There was a hard knock on the door of the bathroom.  ‘Do you think you’re the only person left to have a bath?  Dinner is already being served and I am hungry’, shouted a cousin.

‘If only I had known about this Lizard Science, I’d have been more watchful’, Padma thought.

* * * * * * * *

‘If only I had known that superstitions need not be believed, I’d have been less worried on that day and today’, Padma felt, coming back to the present.

* * * * * * * * * *

Padma tossed in bed, reluctant to get out of it, when she heard her sister, Lalitha’s sweet voice: ‘Hey kitty, come to me, won’t you?’ Padma paid attention.  It was from the rear entrance of her home.

Even as Padma jumped out of bed, her mother brought her the news of the kitten.  ‘Padma, do you remember the black cat which eyes our milk?  She has delivered a litter of six kittens, just near the working slab of our home.  And Lalitha wants to befriend them.  She doesn’t listen when I tell her that cats bring with themselves, the sins of seven births!’

Padma had now folded her blanket and was about to set off to see the kittens.  ‘Wait!' beckoned Sakti.  ‘Did you see God’s picture after you woke up?’

‘Yes’, replied Padma and hurried to have a look at the kittens.  They were cute.  Padma and Lalitha wanted to adopt them.  Padma expected her mother to utilise some ‘Cat science’, if there were any, to scuttle their hopes.  But, Sakti proved that her belief in omens was ‘only’ to the extent of ‘preventing’ her family members from being adversely affected by them.

Oh, no!  The adoption did not take place.  This was why.

‘Who will take care of the kittens?’ asked Sakti.

‘We’ replied Padma.

‘Will you bathe them?’

‘Yes’.

‘Will you feed them?’

‘Yes’.

‘Will you clean their faeces?’

‘Oh, no!’

‘I refuse to do that to anyone but my children.  My motherly love is limited to my children.  If you want to adopt the kittens, you should take care of all that’.

Padma and Lalitha looked at each other.  Neither of them was keen to do it.  And there ended the matter.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was raining heavily.  The monsoon had just set in.  As usual, Padma played songs that described rain – Telugu, Tamil or English- and  language was no bar.

She was fond of the rains, and going out in them.  But, her doting mother had set a condition – she shall not drench herself when she went out.  She played by the rules.  She took her raincoat and reached the drawing room on her way out.  As usual, her grandfather, Sita Ram, was reading the  newspaper with great concentration.  She stopped by him and wished him goodbye.  He lifted his head up after a while and asked her way she had called out to him – that was the level of his concentration!  She replied, ‘Grandpa, I want to go spend some time in Jyoti Book Depot and Book Centre’.

‘Well, I’m glad that you are not superstitious unlike our forefathers.  Have a great time at the book shops’.

‘What is the superstition about, Grandpa?’  Padma could not hold back her curiosity.

‘You carry on.  I’ll tell you the story after you’re back.  God be with you, child!’

‘Thank you, Grandpa!  I propose to take a circuitous route to those places.  As you know, I enjoy the rain.  I hope to catch a bus that helps me to my destination via the Beach Road.  I’ll be back only by evening '.

‘So long, then!’

* * * * * * * * * *

Padma displayed the items she purchased.  For a change, this time, she had bestowed her attention on greeting cards (I am talking about the pre-email days) and pocket quiz books.

‘Grandpa, you missed a lovely sight today.  Imagine rain pouring on the sea.  Wonderful!  Then, this time, I have purchased greeting cards for the birthdays and anniversaries of all the near and dear ones!  This one is for Ram.  This one, which I intend to keep away from you, is for you.  The next is for Lakshmi Atta (aunt).  This one is for Srikar.  This one is for the wedding anniversary of Prasad uncle and Ammu aunty….. These are pocket quiz books, packed with knowledge... Oh, I almost forgot.  You promised to tell me a story on superstitions, and I’m all ears’.

‘It may have been about the man who was washed away in a flash flood when he set out on a rainy day’, quipped her father, who was also present.

Grandpa Sita Ram began, ‘It is said that journeys should be put off if it rained on the day of journey.  My grandmother told me of a person who embarked on a journey when it rained; all went well till the bullock-cart in which he was travelling reached the normally dry river bed at one end of his village.  With the heavy rain, the water in the feeder areas increased he wouldn’t have known that – and the normally dry river bed was getting filled with water.  The force of the water washed the man and his cart away.  This was a lesson to others.  But these beliefs had a certain context, and became irrelevant with the changed circumstances.  If they were still being followed, they ought to be called superstitious.

‘It is also said that one shouldn’t wash one’s hair on the day of journey.  In those days, people grew their hair long and used soap nut to wash it.  If it did not dry before the start of the journey, they would be forced to tie it up leaving the hair loose was not permitted in those days – and that could result in ill health.  Now, people are letting their hair loose.  So, where is the need to enforce this rule on hair wash?’

‘Thank you for this enlightenment, Grandpa!’ said Padma excitedly.

‘Any rule or omen that does not make you qualify to be a human being, need not and should not be followed’, Sita Ram exhorted and told Padma his own clash with the ‘omens’!

* * * * * * * * * * *

          Sita Ram lost his father at the age of two.  In those days of pre-Independence India, no widow ever had a chance to say anything in protest against the disfigurement and ostracism that accompanied widowhood.  Moreover, most girls were conditioned into accepting them (just in case), as though they were desirable.  Sita Ram’s mother, Somamma (after whom Soma was named), was a traditional woman herself.  So she left her forehead without the red mark of vermillion on it, wore only white, got the hair of her head shaved, and kept away from people, who believed that beholding a widow’s face was bad omen.

Sita Ram was a brilliant student, and during his high school, was initiated into liberal thought. He was also drawn to the preachings of the Brahmo Samaj; this exposure helped him to think progressively.

Though he was generally an obedient son, he decided to be disobedient from the next day.  He decided that to seeing his mother’s face would be the first activity of the day; also he decided to make her the omen whenever he went out.  Somamma did not like the idea at all – how could she allow her son take such a risk?  But, Sita Ram believed in destiny.  He told her, ‘If some disaster were to strike me, no omen would prevent it.  Amma, God resides within each and every individual.  You believe that the Jeevatma (individual soul) is a representative of the Paramatma (Infinite Soul).  If so, how can one individual’s atma (soul) be inferior or superior to any other's?’

Sita Ram himself was representative of the way in which the Brahmo nationalism influenced the minds of the youngsters in those days.

* * * * * * * * *

          Sita Ram got married to the niece of a famous Telugu literatteur.  It was not the content of the writer’s stories which drew Sita Ram towards him – it was his attitude.  The writer would make it a point to eat food cooked during an eclipse during that time (traditionally, Indians believed that food had to be digested before the start of an eclipse and could not be consumed till the eclipse was over).

This progressivism continued and was imbibed by Sita Ram’s children as well.

* * * * * * * * * *

Padma was elated. 

After a couple of days, she saw Lalitha cutting her nails at around 8 p.m.  ‘You should not cut your nails after dark’, she instructed.

 ‘Oh, you missed last week’s Bournvita Quiz contest.  If you had seen it, you would have understood that nail-cutting was discouraged after dark in the olden days because of poor lighting.  When I know the reason, why should I be superstitious?’ replied her sister.

Lalitha’s answer gave a new dimension to the thought process of Padma’s.  Padma had kept in mind her Grandpa’s statement about what to follow and what not to, but her sister had already moved two steps ahead!

* * * * * * * * * * *

There was a new black cat in the neighbourhood.  Whether by telepathy or otherwise, she would cross Padma whenever she’d go out.  By now, Padma was far too mature to believe in the danger of a cat’s omen.  She would be on her way and nothing negative actually happened to her.  Even when she left her city to attend a job interview, it was the black cat which crossed her path first.  And, she was successful in securing a livelihood!

She mentioned this fact in passing to her grandfather.  He smiled and said, 'I’m glad you’ve overcome inhibitive conditioning, Padma.  All of us know that God is Omnipotent, Omniscient and Omnipresent.  By being Omnipotent, He overpowers us in the course of our life; by being Omniscient, He knows what is the best for us; and by being Omnipresent, manifests Himself in every living being around us.  Remember the incarnation of Narasimha?  But, despite this knowledge, we seek to attribute our successes and failures to abstract things.  All of us don’t consider each and every superstition or omen as irrational.  It is highly judgemental and varies with each and every individual.  Always keep in mind that you should never follow any rule that does not make you better than what you are, as a human being!'

That was a lesson Padma never forgot for the rest of her life.

* * * * * * * * * * **

Padma and a senior colleague were returning home from an official visit to a village.  The Tata Sumo in which they were travelling, was racing at a good speed on reaching the national highway.  The driver had tuned into the local FM radio, which played a soulful number from the latest bollywood blockbuster, ‘Bunty aur Babli’.  The travellers lent their ears seriously, and came back to their surroundings when the Sumo screeched to a halt.  A black cat had a narrow escape.  Where is the cat?  Hope she is fine’, enquired Padma.  The driver pointed towards the scared cat, which ran into a field alongside the road.  Padma thanked God for it.  When the driver put his left hand on the key in order to ignite the car and resume the journey, her colleague instructed that the car should move a couple of paces backward and then forward.  ‘Sir, why did we move back?  It seems to be more than Newton’s Law in operation’, she said.  Her colleague, ‘Oh, that’s to negate the effect of the cat.  The backward movement symbolises the return to the point of origin’.

Padma was speechless.  The ‘Vizag Marathon’ adventure flashed in her mind – the difference was that then it was a single Brahmin and now it was a black cat and the similarity was that both of them were considered to be ‘bad omens’ – it was a good two decades but life continued to be the same!  Was history repeating itself?

Padma wanted to speak her mind about omens, but her mind, which was in the ‘flashback’ mode, reminded her just in time, of what her grandfather had said, decades ago, - ‘It is highly judgemental and varies with each and every individual’. And she remained silent.

* * * * * * * * *