Columnists
Of Black Cats & The Confluence Of Planets
T. SHER SINGH
DAILY FIX
Monday, May 7, 2012
Of the many things I have inherited from my gentle, petite mother is one that is identifiable most easily. I know it’s from her because we’re the only two in the family who have this gift.
It’s my explosive, almost nuclear, sneezes.
Cats leap a foot in the air, dogs yelp, sleeping babies burst into wails … it creates havoc all over.
As a child growing up in Patna, I also noticed that it had the power of stopping people in their tracks, no matter what they were doing. They would instantly cancel their plans, turn around and head back, or grab a seat and sit down to linger for a few minutes until, I guess, the effect of the sneeze on their welfare had worn off.
A sneeze, I learnt quickly, was considered a bad omen.
A second sneeze could cancel the effect of the first. But I was - and am - a serial sneezer. What does a third or a fourth do for the humanity that happens to exist in the vicinity?
I also took note as a young boy that when my long, unshorn hair was being groomed into a gutt in the morning and a touch of surmah or kohl was being applied to my eyes - “It’s good for your eyes, Child!” - a dash of it would also be slashed on one side of my forehead.
Leave it there, I was told, it wards of the evil eye.
As I grew older, I observed strange goings-on around me, especially when visiting friends and neighbours.
People would not leave home having just had a drink of water. Either you waited for a few minutes, or ate something sweet … before proceeding with your plans.
If a black cat crossed your path anywhere along the way, there were no ifs and buts, you went home, and postponed your itinerary to another day.
And Tuesdays (mangalvaar) in a Hindu household were unequivocally inauspicious days. If something was important or significant, it was not to be done on that day.
Same with the eighth and the ninth days of each lunar month, for example.
It was because of the configuration of the planets, said the learned Vedas. Rituals were prescribed for each of such days to help one survive without a mishap.
A tikka or tilak on the forehead could do the trick too. So would a talisman - a ‘sacred’ thread tied around the wrist or the neck or the waist.
The easiest way, I was told by my friends, was to feast a Brahmin. Or give him some money.
My young mind was intrigued by all of this and I consistently pressed my father for answers.
His response was short, simple and clear, so much so that it took me a long time to give it any weight.
He said it’s all rubbish. It’s all in your head. There are no good days or bad, no inauspicious days or holy ones.
And as Sikhs, he said, with One God in your mind at all times, work hard and be honest … and every moment will be auspicious, every inauspicious moment will get deflected or turn meaningless.
He warned me, if you start seeing bad in something, anything, it will be bad. If you see good in everything, it will become good for you.
The last bit particularly latched on to me.
My little mind began to play with the idea. If thinking something is bad makes it bad, and thinking it’s good makes it good, surely I can turn things around to my advantage.
As a young boy quick to mischief, I found this to be a source of endless entertainment. I started convincing myself that anything that was inauspicious for others was the exact opposite for me.
So, if Tuesdays were bad for my neighbours, they were auspicious for me.
If a black cat crossed my path, it meant it would be a perfect day.
In the morning, before setting off for school and unbenownst to anyone else, I would stand in the verandah, and look up, facing the full glare of the sun. I’d seen it work with others on the street (not realizing then that it was snuff that did it). I waited until I sneezed … and then I’d head for school, happy as a fiddle!
As I grew older, it became part of my very being. Instinctively, when I heard a friend or class-mate or colleague say something was bad luck, I’d dive into the prohibited action convinced that it was then guaranteed to be good for me.
It was in 1962, when I was but 12 years old, that the head Brahmins in the land announced to the world the coming of the Ashta Graha - the inauspicious confluence of he Eight Planets. Terrible calamities were predicted for a specific day, probably in the form of cataclysmic earthquakes, possibly even the end of the world.
There was widespread panic across India.
In Patna and vicinity, hundreds of thousands fled their homes into the open countryside, pitched tents, and waited for the end - accompanied by much chanting and wailing and consigning butter and various food-stuffs into the flames of havans (ritual fire ceremonies).
My parents - as well as other Sikhs in town - took it all in their stride. They had been through this before.
We stayed home. School and business were closed. Let them die, my father quipped, but we will have a holiday. It proved to be a peculiar one, though - we were the only ones in our neighbourhood to be seen anywhere!
Well, two things happened.
First: come Doomsday Day, nothing happened. One by one, people returned to their homes. The Brahmins did not back down: they claimed that it was their rituals that had averted armageddon.
Second: people returned home only to discover that their homes had been robbed of their valuables. Obviously by the god-less!
But you didn’t need to be a non-believer to make a bundle that week.
Our next-door neighbour was an astrologer who plied his trade from his baitthak - living room - at the front of his store, while he and his family lived in the rest of the premises.
The ashta-graha was a god-send to him. Like many of his ilk, he had offered pleas to the gods on behalf of many a local citizen, mostly the affluent ones, in return, of course, for a fat fee. After all, only a Brahmin could offer the necessary Hindu prayers.
He came back within a few days, the crisis having been averted, a wealthy man.
Within weeks, the unit next door was renovated into a fancy office, while the family retreated a bit further into the innards of the premises. A huge, fancy sign appeared above the entrance announcing: JYOTISH KARYALAYA - The Office of Astrology. A new enterprise was born.
Nothing changes in India. Except, when it gets worse.
When I visited India a few years ago after a long absence, I discovered that many soft-headed Sikhs - no, I’ve not referring to their turbans! - had adopted Hindu superstitions.
Oddest of all, there were homes and businesses now sporting mini idols of Ganesh, for example, with incense and laddoos (sweetmeats) placed in front of them.
Hindus believe the presence of these idols brings them wealth and prosperity. All power to them if indeed it works for them.
But Sikhs? How stupid can you get!
So, imagine my utter shock when I visited a favourite cousin and her family. As I entered their home, I saw a nook behind the front door with a handful of these idols with all the paraphernalia that usually accompanies them.
“What’s that?” I exclaimed, before I had a chance to even digest the scene.
“Oh!“ my cousin said sheepishly, “our friends suggested we keep them here because it brings prosperity. We said what’s the harm, why not, let‘s do it. So, we brought these here last year.”
Over dinner, I wanted to know more.
“You’ve been multi-millionaires for as long as I can remember. Three decades? Four? So, how much more prosperity do you need? And how much more prosperity has it brought you?”
They giggled, and I let the subject pass.
We moved on to other subjects. And, invariably, being the age we are, to health.
My cousin went through a litany of illnesses both she and her hubby have been grappling with. Both have spent lengthy times in hospital and being bed-ridden at home with life-threatening diseases. And they were but a few years older than me - young, that is!
That’s when I told them of my theory of life. If it’s unlucky for others, it’s lucky for me; if it’s lucky for others, it’s unlucky for me.
Is it possible, I quipped, that these idols may be fine and dandy for Hindus, but they play havoc in a Sikh household?
They looked at me with incredulity.
“Surely, if you actually believe that the presence of these pieces of clay are capable of bringing prosperity, they are also capable of bringing disease and sorrow into your home, don’t you think?“
Two days later, when I made a return visit to say my final goodbyes before heading back to Canada, I noticed the spot behind the front door had been cleaned up. A beautiful flower pot stood there now.
I wished I had had time to bang a few more Sikh heads together before I left the country.
Home here in Canada, my contrarian theory of superstitions continues to work for me.
A few years ago, while visiting the local Humane Society, I made the mistake of holding and playing with a gorgeous cat. It was jet black, tip to toe.
I should’ve known. I’m a sucker. Five minutes with it snuggling in my arms, and I wanted to take it home. I talked to the manager and started to get the ball rolling for the adoption when my partner snuggled up to me and whispered in my ear, a firm, “No! It‘s a black cat!”
Nothing would convince her. A black cat, she insisted, would be bad luck if we took it home.
She wouldn’t buy any of my “But black cats are good luck for me!”
So, we didn’t get the black cat.
I should’ve known.
My partner and I broke up not long thereafter … for different reasons.
Maybe things would’ve been different if I’d brought the black cat home?
Conversation about this article
1: Baldev Singh (Bradford, United Kingdom), May 07, 2012, 7:46 AM.
Brilliant shot across the bow! Not too long ago, I was in Calcutta where I asked the taxi driver to take me to Diamond Harbour on the banks of the Hoogly River. As we neared the destination, the taxi suddenly stopped dead in its tracks, its way obstructed by a late-model luxury car which had stopped in the middle of the road for no apparent reason. We waited and waited for the car to move. Finally, when I demanded an explanation, I was told a cat had crossed its path, and it being bad luck, the owner - he appeared rich and educated - was waiting for a few minutes to go by so that the evil period would pass and it was safe to go!
2: Rosalia (Baltimore, Maryland, U.S.A.), May 07, 2012, 8:20 PM.
What a shame you didn't get that gorgeous black cat! I have owned a black cat forever, replacing them with another black cat when they got too old to continue living. My current black cat is Bella, Italian for beautiful. Before her, Midnight and before him, an angora beauty named Vulcan. I can't imagine NOT having a black cat in my home. Bella is only 8 or 9, and the hope is she is with me as long as possible. We make our own luck in this world. What appears to be unfortunate today may turn out to be fortunate the next. It reminds me of the story of the Chinese farmer who sent his son out to the fields on a horse. The son fell off the horse and broke his leg. His father told him he was unlucky, he couldn't do anything right. The next day, soldiers came to the village and collected every able-bodied boy to fight in the current war. Every village boy was drafted, except, of course, the "unlucky" son whose broken leg kept him home on the farm and out of the army.
3: Sangat Singh (Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia), May 08, 2012, 4:55 AM.
This one took a different route. The loud report came out of the aft burner. An elderly visiting relative after a heavy lunch naturally wanted an afternoon snooze and spotted a Punjabi manja under the tree to take his 40 winks. As an underling partner, our half-Alsatian decided to join him under the charpoy. Just as the snores got underway and progressively went up in decibels, there was a sudden boom of breaking wind. The poor dog gave a loud yelp and shot out like a bullet to take cover elsewhere ... it didn't want to be blamed for the fart. Just then my uncle came out to see the reason for this sudden commotion. "Bhai ji, what happened?" "Nothing, really," replied Bhai ji, "thoree ja-ee hawa sirki si" - 'Only a minor wind broke out!' and went back to resuming his cacophony in minor major. As kids we used to play 'lukan meeti' - hide and seek - during summer's moonlit nights. Quite often we would come across some a ceremonial bunch of bananas, some oranges and beetle leaves, a few coins, etc. It related to 'tuna' - a superstitious ritual to ward off a curse. Now we had a belief among us that if you took your slipper and beat it 7 times on the ground, the curse wouldn't apply to you. So we did, and promptly ate the bananas and oranges and pocketed the coins as god-sent candy money. I'm glad to report that we suffered no ill affects whatsoever. Of course this secret was never shared with our parents, lest we underwent a full scale ablution to ward off any ill omens. Much later, of course: "sagun apasgun tis ka-o lageh jis cheet na aavai" [GGS:401.1] - "Omens, good or bad, affect only those who do not keep the Lord in the mind!"
4: Manjeet Singh (Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia), May 11, 2012, 11:18 PM.
Do you have any qualms if a black cat crossed your path, or if you sneeze, or have a problem with a certain day of the week? If so, read on: This is an excellent essay about how gullibility plays havoc in our lives. We have to be ever grateful to the Gurus who took us out of the deep pit of superstition. Gurbani has many passages devoted to this. The 'thithis' by Guru Arjan and Bhagat Kabir and by Guru Nanak tell us again and again that it is the One who does everything and to place reliance on anything else is foolish. Similarly, Guru Amardas tells us: 'thithi vaar sevay mugadh gavaar', i.e. 'only blockheads and fools attach any significance to auspicious days and times.' Gurbani tells us in many places that Nirankaar is 'dharn dhaar rehiyo brahmand ...'[Sukhmani:14], i.e., 'He is the [only] support throughout the Universe ...' Any 'tek' or reliance on anything besides naam brings grief. Thus Guru Tegh Bahadar says: re munn oat leyo har naama/ ja kay simran durmat nasay pavay padh nirbana ...' [GGS:901]. As for astrolgers, we have Guru Nanak's famous shabad where he scolds the astrologer: 'jhooth na bol panday sach kahiye ...' [GGS:904]. God is 'pooran', i.e., He is complete and perfect everywhere. He is pooran within us. Place reliance only on Him within yourself. There is no need to place hope on laughing Buddhas, Ganeshas, frogs, black cats or red tikkas on the forehead.