I knew, even as I drifted back into sleep, that I would be writing this post. It was a piercing sound that startled me awake. I swiftly grabbed my phone to shut what I thought was the alarm that did something so heinous. The piercing sounds were that of the neighbourhood dogs howling the night awake. It was somewhere around 1:45am. It was a bittersweet moment because a) the night still had so many hours of sleep left for me to devour (YAY!) and b) because the intense relationship I was having with this love of my every night was carelessly shredded apart by these dogs (*&%$#!@#!!), at an hour so substantial (and eerie) that it made me make a mental check to come here and tell you about it. It was the hour of ghosts or spirits or whatever have you.
Ghosts, or the concept of them (or whatever fancies your ideologies) have always been a part of my life. And no, I don't imply or mean that I can see them. I hope I don't ever get blessed with that power. But they've always been a part of my growing up years where childhood curiosities and questions sort of overtook everything else that was so real and boring. Our imaginations worked overtime as we spent dusks and evenings pondering over ghosts and ghost stories. The us would be the brother and the cousins, and the occasional elder who dropped by in our world of theories and conquests.
I think the concept of ghosts started off with the entire fear of darkness. Why are you scared of the dark? Because there are ghosts around. That's where it all started from. Darkness almost always meant it brought ghosts along - whenever, wherever. Except the puja room. Or under your quilt. Those were the only places where ghosts could never trespass to, and still can't. We wondered what they were; whether they had their feet backwards and floated at a slightly elevated level, dressed in a translucent white.
Then we had movies we were forbidden from watching with Exorcist topping those charts. But when you have elder brothers who are allowed access to the VCR and in whose company you could watch tv at night (only because they were summer holidays), one tended to oversee those rules. So ghost movies would be rented, hidden among stacks of other, happier movies as they were smuggled in amid scrutinizing eyes. When you have brothers, the world doesn't matter. Elder or younger, you're safe. I'm digressing, but I just had to say this just so you know that a) I love my brothers, and that b) they absolutely rock, and that c) we were not cracked in the head as kids. So yeah, I still remember many a night spent watching movies from between the weaves of my bed cover.
It never ended at that. Of course. What a stupid thing to expect. We were blessed with voracious imaginations and this weird need to try and figure everything out. I believe I used the word conquest sometime back. So yes, we thought of them as our own personal conquests against a world that occupied so much space in our imagination. Incidents and stories narrated by uncles had us gather around, gaping wide-eyed, reinforcing the fact that we could contact the supernatural world since humans and animals could so evidently be involved. So secret missions were chalked out, to be executed in the dead of night (3am was Satan's hour) in not so easily accessible places (such as the tree house in the backyard). We looked forward to nights of Plan Chit, while a swarm of potential questions we would ask these spirits swam in front of our eyes. The world was exciting and so adventurous. Nothing could stop us.
And then we watched Poltergeist. Or Omen. And suddenly it hit us that we'd never thought of how to say bye to ghosts. We'd overlooked what would happen if the ghost decided to stay back. I swear I saw what my life would be like if I were even accidentally possessed by one of these spirits, flash right in front of my eyes. The world didn't seem that adventurous anymore. I guess that's when reality started taking her baby footsteps into my rainbow world of adventure and all things brave and fun. Plans made way for conversations; we could never control what kind of spirit would visit us and decide to spend their ghostly life with us; we worried. We decided to 'grow up' and make do with ghost stories, experiential anecdotes that meandered across generations (involving at least one person from each generation, mind you) and of course, movies.
Somewhere along the line, we decided to quit the thought of meeting ghosts altogether. The plan of calling them was buried, as were thoughts of visiting graveyards (complete with a picture of Hanumanji and a small piece of iron). We just couldn't afford risking it, our slowly growing up minds thought. It makes me wonder if the onset, acceptance and sheltering of fears ushers in the process of 'growing up'. But I'll keep that thought for another post. So that was that. As time progressed, and as summer holidays became few and far in between, we moved on to exploring more 'feasible' areas that triggered our curiosities.
Therefore, with a background and history such as this + the million horror movies every industry has ever made; still make me wonder about concepts such as ghosts. They do not hold my curiosity as much as they bother my sense of peace. Today holds a deeper meaning of passing on, ghosts, possessions and the supernatural in general. I'm not necessarily a 'true' believer in the surety of their existence and presence as much as I am suspicious of their existence. Especially when it comes to dogs who howl collectively at around the same time every night, and at the time they choose to howl. *shiver*
But then, when my reality cuts back to today, my greed and absolute lust for sleep takes over as I dunk my head in my pillow and drift back into a world that fast fades away from what could potentially have Casper and Nearly Headless Nick sitting next to me to one of deep, unperturbed slumber. Thank you, God, for that! I will be eternally grateful to you for making me pass out when I really need to. And as for ghosts, the tug-of-war between my imagination and sense of realism (and sanity, I'd like to believe) have brought me to let them be as they are - whether or not they exist.
Ghosts, or the concept of them (or whatever fancies your ideologies) have always been a part of my life. And no, I don't imply or mean that I can see them. I hope I don't ever get blessed with that power. But they've always been a part of my growing up years where childhood curiosities and questions sort of overtook everything else that was so real and boring. Our imaginations worked overtime as we spent dusks and evenings pondering over ghosts and ghost stories. The us would be the brother and the cousins, and the occasional elder who dropped by in our world of theories and conquests.
I think the concept of ghosts started off with the entire fear of darkness. Why are you scared of the dark? Because there are ghosts around. That's where it all started from. Darkness almost always meant it brought ghosts along - whenever, wherever. Except the puja room. Or under your quilt. Those were the only places where ghosts could never trespass to, and still can't. We wondered what they were; whether they had their feet backwards and floated at a slightly elevated level, dressed in a translucent white.
Then we had movies we were forbidden from watching with Exorcist topping those charts. But when you have elder brothers who are allowed access to the VCR and in whose company you could watch tv at night (only because they were summer holidays), one tended to oversee those rules. So ghost movies would be rented, hidden among stacks of other, happier movies as they were smuggled in amid scrutinizing eyes. When you have brothers, the world doesn't matter. Elder or younger, you're safe. I'm digressing, but I just had to say this just so you know that a) I love my brothers, and that b) they absolutely rock, and that c) we were not cracked in the head as kids. So yeah, I still remember many a night spent watching movies from between the weaves of my bed cover.
It never ended at that. Of course. What a stupid thing to expect. We were blessed with voracious imaginations and this weird need to try and figure everything out. I believe I used the word conquest sometime back. So yes, we thought of them as our own personal conquests against a world that occupied so much space in our imagination. Incidents and stories narrated by uncles had us gather around, gaping wide-eyed, reinforcing the fact that we could contact the supernatural world since humans and animals could so evidently be involved. So secret missions were chalked out, to be executed in the dead of night (3am was Satan's hour) in not so easily accessible places (such as the tree house in the backyard). We looked forward to nights of Plan Chit, while a swarm of potential questions we would ask these spirits swam in front of our eyes. The world was exciting and so adventurous. Nothing could stop us.
And then we watched Poltergeist. Or Omen. And suddenly it hit us that we'd never thought of how to say bye to ghosts. We'd overlooked what would happen if the ghost decided to stay back. I swear I saw what my life would be like if I were even accidentally possessed by one of these spirits, flash right in front of my eyes. The world didn't seem that adventurous anymore. I guess that's when reality started taking her baby footsteps into my rainbow world of adventure and all things brave and fun. Plans made way for conversations; we could never control what kind of spirit would visit us and decide to spend their ghostly life with us; we worried. We decided to 'grow up' and make do with ghost stories, experiential anecdotes that meandered across generations (involving at least one person from each generation, mind you) and of course, movies.
Somewhere along the line, we decided to quit the thought of meeting ghosts altogether. The plan of calling them was buried, as were thoughts of visiting graveyards (complete with a picture of Hanumanji and a small piece of iron). We just couldn't afford risking it, our slowly growing up minds thought. It makes me wonder if the onset, acceptance and sheltering of fears ushers in the process of 'growing up'. But I'll keep that thought for another post. So that was that. As time progressed, and as summer holidays became few and far in between, we moved on to exploring more 'feasible' areas that triggered our curiosities.
Therefore, with a background and history such as this + the million horror movies every industry has ever made; still make me wonder about concepts such as ghosts. They do not hold my curiosity as much as they bother my sense of peace. Today holds a deeper meaning of passing on, ghosts, possessions and the supernatural in general. I'm not necessarily a 'true' believer in the surety of their existence and presence as much as I am suspicious of their existence. Especially when it comes to dogs who howl collectively at around the same time every night, and at the time they choose to howl. *shiver*
But then, when my reality cuts back to today, my greed and absolute lust for sleep takes over as I dunk my head in my pillow and drift back into a world that fast fades away from what could potentially have Casper and Nearly Headless Nick sitting next to me to one of deep, unperturbed slumber. Thank you, God, for that! I will be eternally grateful to you for making me pass out when I really need to. And as for ghosts, the tug-of-war between my imagination and sense of realism (and sanity, I'd like to believe) have brought me to let them be as they are - whether or not they exist.
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