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We used to sit
around them in the pial or porch of our
houses after dinner in moonlit nights
for them to relate such stories. It was
a popular pastime for both the
raconteurs and the listeners. Young kids
were dissuaded from listening to such
fables lest they would have horrifying
dreams and scream at night. The
narrations used to be captivating and
prompted us to believe in the existence
of devils and evil spirits.
In those days - around 40 years ago -
young men shuttled between Azhagai and
Kottaram on various businesses, more
often riding bicycles. I had heard of
incidents where our men had dangerous
encounters at night with invisible
beings, and taken ill soon afterwards.
Some even reportedly passed away after
running high fever or suffering
hemorrhage. Sometimes even heart attacks
were attributed to horrific demonic
acts. But all the same, the vivid
recollections of such ghastly events by
many lent credence to the tales we
heard.
At this point of time, on a summer
evening, I was off to Kottaram riding a
bicycle to watch a movie – Navaratiri --
at the Ponnu Talkies. The show began at
7.30. Because of intermittent power
cuts, patrons could not enjoy the film.
The audience would fix their eyes on the
aperture of the projection room when
power was out, and when supply restored,
would turn their eyes back to the
screen. This kept happening alternately.
The guys vending roasted peanuts and
boiled chickpeas in slender conical
paper containers did brisk business. The
show at last ended at the stroke of
midnight. After having a light
refreshment at a Kottaram junction
eatery, I started riding back home. It
was past midnight and the moonlight had
faded a bit. The vision of the track was
just about enough to steer the bike. A
cat running across my way bore ill, I
surmised.
It was a typical night filled with
sounds of nature’s wonderful creatures –
the croaking of frogs, hissing of
snakes, rustling of leaves, howling of
jackals, braying of a donkey afar, and
so on. As the road led on to the
thicket, I realized that I was the lone
soul in that area traversing in the dead
of night - a thought unnerved me. I
whistled in the semi-darkness attempting
to dispel the fear that had filled me.
In a while I felt fine, briefly though.
Anxious to quickly pass through the
supposedly perilous abodes of certain
ancient deities and idols along the
track unscathed, I rode on furiously. My
vehicle was virtually flying.
As I approached the curve of the canal
that flows down through Pottalkulam’s
southern edge, I felt as though someone
had just climbed on and sat in the
carrier of my bicycle. But when I looked
back over my shoulder I saw none. The
vehicle had instantly become an awesome
overload. My pedaling had become
laborious even though the track was
plain, and there was no wind resistance.
But how then the sudden heaviness and
drag had occurred? I queried myself,
trembling a bit. The arena was pitch
dark with the massive pipal and banyan
trees standing across the canal impeding
the fading moonlight. There was a weird
stillness. It then dawn on me that it
was a bloodthirsty demon intending to
squash me. I froze with fear and my
heart skipped a beat or two. With my
legs wobbling, pedaling almost ceased. I
was pinned down. Navaratiri was about to
become my last ratiri. Then, at that
very moment, I remembered the virtue of
being brave in dire circumstances, a
value instilled in me by my teachers and
mentors. Just as my bicycle was about to
come to a halt, I impulsively shouted
with the extreme power of my lungs, "Who
are you, bloody…? Go away, or else…" I
hurled a few more abuses at my
tormenter. I had no idea how the phantom
would react. To my utter relief, I now
felt the extra weight and drag had
eased. Perhaps, surprised by my sudden
audacity, the devil got off the bike and
vanished into oblivion.
I got down and put the cycle on stand.
Bending, I picked up two hand-full of
dirt from the dusty track and threw it
toward the way I came, yelling "To hell
with you, and never ever follow me." I
rode back home well past midnight with
some sense of triumph to a barrage of
anxious queries from my mother. I
assured her I would recapitulate the
events of the night in the morning. I
duly gave a narration her. She and my
neighbors felt that I had had a
providential escape. They cautioned me
not to land in such deadly situations in
future.
Later, as I tried to rationalize this
episode, I couldn’t come to a firm
conclusion as to what exactly was it
that scared me with its ominous intent
by being invisible and intimidating. Was
it really a demon bent upon causing me
extreme fear and then death vomiting
blood, or I simply had a bout of
delusion caused by the eerie
circumstances and prior knowledge of
precedents? Though I don’t have an
answer even today, what saved my life on
that day, I believe, was my remembering
at the nick of time the merit of mental
fortitude instilled in me by my mentors.
(J. Vensuslaus)
September 2006 |
Azhagai anecodotes
