Uday Lama

I don’t throw salt over my shoulder or touch wood but I get an uneasy feeling when I cross the real into the surreal. This makes me think twice and so act with discretion lest I offend those who are superstitious. Even though I do not believe in omens no amount of thinking can wish it away.

Sometimes I do get jittery and the nerves shift into high gear when I experience deja’vu. But it does not disturb me much and I shrug it off as being common place. It’s not as if the gods were keeping a watch over me but that I have forgotten about it. And when it crops up next time I do not get the shakes or the insides loosen up.

The fact that any superstition is bad is hardwired into my brain. It does no good to point out its demerits only allowing that it bodes evil. Giving into fanciful notion may be a way of looking at things but nothing can be said. Too much of it can wreck credibility and negate its face value. And the finer points connected to it.

Far be it for me to judge what are conjectures based on a series of coincidences. But it could contain some truth since it has been bandied around for long. Some are hoary enough to raise the hairs at the back of the neck. Apart from sending a shiver down the spine no further harm is done and the scare passes of — to be replaced by relief. After a few moments of unease, there is only a return to sanity.

Superstitions bedevil the senses since they are bound up with things that are unreal, unseen and feed on irrational beliefs. It clouds judgment and acts as a stumbling block to thinking. But why seemingly literate people are affected is beyond me. And my comprehension. Although it may have to do with defying logic, which is putting two and two together and coming to a conclusion.

In this era when so much inroads have been made into the whys and whereof of life, it is not right to cling onto something that does not hold water.

Any superstitious act arises because it does not fall within the bounds of possibility. And continues to haunt one even after it is all over. But in all probability it’s the thought behind it that disturbs one. And even in the deepest of sleeps it occurs as nightmares — the racing heart, sweaty palms and disorientation.

I think it is only right to give superstitions its due without making too much fuss. Given that it is a measure of how much one has made it a part of the self it is never too late to do something about it. And not insist upon holding onto what is a passing urge. For a carefree life one has to build upon the concerns of the present reality and forget superstitious dread.