Thursday, October 31, 2013

A Halloween Special

A Halloween Special
Diptanjan S Purkayastha
Arik Podder

“Dance with the moon in the dead of night…”
                                                                          ~ Marilyn Manson
thik dupur bela bhoot e mare dhela”
                                                                        ~Anonymous




You know it’s that time of the year when the shadows don’t only flutter and flinch, but stretch dark, liquid fingers, hoping to catch you, hoping to bring you down to them, to draw you in. You see, baby, it’s Halloween. This is the time when around the world kids dress up as zombies and vampires or other dark shapes that fascinate them. Dark shapes that whisper to the night, that are always waiting for us at the end of the street just around the corner, that have been inhabiting our closets since our childhood days.

May be in India Halloween’s not that much of a big thing, but that’s okay I guess, for we have our very own beliefs in ‘Bhootchaturdashi’. Just like people abroad have their pack of favorite freaks (Vampires, Werewolves, Poltergeists, Shape shifters, Zombies and so on), we have our own horde of Goosebumps as well. And in this article that will surely fetch me the Nobel Prize in English Literature, I’ll be attempting to tell you about the traditional Fright-figures of Bengal.

1. Daayan (or Daini) : Now those of you who have seen Ek Thi Daayan—even if that film would not have scared you much—I do hope that it revived in you childhood fairytales in which we get lost in the woods and then are eaten alive by Daayans (that is, witches). So a daayan is not a unique figure at all—it’s just the Indian version of those frightening witches that haunt sylvan forests and cursed, desolate localities. Foul is fair, pals n gals.
p.s. Indian witches don’t wear hats.

2. Brambhadaitya : Now, this figure is more interesting. They say, when a ‘Brahmin’ (a sect of people who wear ‘sacred threads’ around their necks) dies of an accident, a Brambhadaitya is born. Now, brambhadaityas are traditionally clad in white clothes. They live on trees and keep an eye on you. And if you keep a foot out of religious boundaries, well, you’re gonna be in trouble. But if you keep a brambhadaitya happy, he will give you many good things. I dunno whether he’ll give you a collector’s edition of Pet Sematary, but who knows anyway?

3. Pret : Well a Pret is a ghost of a Hindu man who in his lifetime belonged to a ‘lower class’ in our ‘social order’. And a Pretini (commonly called Petni) is the female version of a prĂȘt. You know what they do? When the night is dark and the moon is up and the town is dead, they come n posses you. Amen.

4. Mamdo : Well this is the ghost of a Muslim. Just like Prets and Petnis, they are troublesome and are difficult to get rid off. In case they have you by the neck, you better go to the Darga of a Pir (Religious Place for people following the Islamic Faith).  

5. Nishi : This creature of the night has always fascinated me. A nishi is a restless female spirit, searching for a lover. She, as I already said, comes in the Night (Nishi is an alteration of the word Nisha meaning Night) and calls your name in the voice of someone you know very well. She has her limitations for she can call only once. Trouble is, if you respond to her call, you are hypnotized, and then she takes you wherever she wants to and Christ Jesus knows what she’ll do to you. One thing for certain: you’ll never return. Boo!

6. Jokh : Mythologically, a Jokh is a disciple of Kuber—God of Wealth.
But of course there is a far more frightening story to the origin of a Jokh. You see, ancient rich people in the ancient ages thought of a rather gruesome (and senseless) way of protecting their treasures.
step 1: Find an enclosed place to keep your stuff.
step 2: Find a man and lock him up with the treasure in this godforsaken place full of gold, devoid of food.
step 3: This guy will soon die of boredom, fear, and starvation, and he’ll protect your wealth forever (his spirit will, that is). Personally, I don’t fancy going into a chamber full of gold where I might stumble upon a grinning skeleton saying: “welcome, ole pal, wanna play solitaire wimme?”
Would you take the risk?

7. Aleya : When a human being is burnt alive, an aleya is born. They say Aleyas are mostly women, There is another horrific reason behind this belief: The Satidaha Pratha. In India when husbands died, widows were dragged to their husbands’ funeral pyre, and then they were burnt alive. Many, many women lost their lives in this unthinkable manner. And that’s why ju-ons were born. And that’s why they have a grudge against everyone. And so you shall see fire burning mysteriously if you are wandering into the night in a densely wooded place. Oddly, an Aleya drags you under water and chokes you to death. Hallelujah.

So that’s it from me, pals n gals, I have taken enough of your time already. Get going now, give Scooby snacks to your dog, French fries to your tongue, and watch a horror film.

Just keep watchin your back and under your bed.
(I repeat, BOO!)
For, you know, Stephen King said:
“Ghosts are real, and monsters are real too…”  


  

Friday, January 6, 2012

Needless to say.

Needless to say…

Last night’s wind carried a salty taste
and a curse.

I felt it while driving through packed streets
and it rained heavily on my windscreen
blurring my vision, making it difficult to see
the road ahead, teeming with people unknown

Each one separate from the other.
I pushed through the smog that crept up suddenly
and through the window it entered
taking the shape of a human being
or a ghost.

I took the long way back home
the darkened road a few miles from the sea
the waves and the coco trees…

Haunting waves were reaching up for the sky
which was dark.
Clearly a storm was coming

I wished, let a severe hurricane come
and blow it all away.
All the pain, all betrayals, all failures.

I wished to die
and the death of the world.

Nothing happened.
Again I calmly parked my car-rang the door bell-
Raghu opened the door-Scooby came running to greet me-
-as usual-

I was thinking of someone
and I didn’t pay attention to Scooby.
Raghu served my tea and went off without a word.

On my laptop I played a dull shooting game.
It did nothing to cure the curse.

Then I took dinner.
It did nothing to lift that salty taste form my tongue.

Then I started drinking and it was a perfect time
to die.

Now another stranger on your street
hears a dog howling…
Raghu cries, and hallucinates someone.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

seasons

In winter
dust gathers on the ceiling fan:
an indication of passed time.

In the monsoons,
there comes a dry spell--without rain;
another failed attempt at renewal.

The summer makes everything more scorched,
charred.

Ashes of us.
Ashes what we used to be.

Spring is dead. . .
black roses is what I have
(you must have noticed).

I try (only sometimes), to find a way out,
beyond seasons, and cycles(which transform),
a way out of my eyes, and your carnal smiles.

Struggling, shrieking in my mind, trying to breath(or peacefully die),
and yes, a somehow-ness finds its way into my mind.