Chapter 7 : Fear - My Constant Companion

Fear accompanied me throughout my childhood. It never allowed me to sleep peacefully at night and would prevent me from gazing up at the sky in the darkness. It wouldn't even let me walk alone.

Fear is an emotion that knows no age. If our mind is weak, even our own shadow can terrify us. As a film lyricist once said, "On the day you have no one by your side, your shadow becomes your companion." But sometimes, that very shadow following us can evoke fear.

It's the feeling that an unknown force is trailing us. No wonder our heart races in such moments! Perhaps no one is immune to this.

As I reflect on my life, I'm trying to recall the incidents where fear encircled me.

 

A Corpse Under the Banyan Tree:

 

Once our village was gripped with fear. For one whole week, the mere mention of nighttime sent shivers down their spines. There was a valid reason for this.

A man who lay down under the Banyan tree at night was found dead the next morning. This tree stood on the path leading to the graveyard, located on the southern outskirts of the village. The tree has long been shrouded in terrifying tales. The story I'm about to share, "The Corpse," is another such account.

This story dates back to the 1960s in our village, Adavi Ravulapadu. There was a group of young men who would gather under the Banyan tree or the nearby neem tree to play cards and games like "Ashta Chemma." Some of them were alcoholics.

One day, a young man from this group was found dead under the Banyan tree. This incident shook our small village of barely 25 households. Everyone talked about the mysterious death. We had just returned to the village for vacation from Guntur and were shocked.

In those days, villages were plagued by various fears, primarily the fear of ghosts. Recalling those moments still sends shivers down my spine. Why did a young man, barely 25 years old, sleep under the tree and end up dead by morning? This question haunted everyone.

There was no illness, no discomfort, and no sign of suicide. The young man had boasted that he would sleep under the Banyan tree that night, and he did, never to wake up again. People whispered that the ghost had choked him to death.

 

 Fears in Rural Areas

Village life had its unique fears. During summer, people would sleep outside their homes. In those days, electricity was scarce in many villages. Even if it was available, only a handful of households had it. Streetlights were rare, with maybe one or two lights flickering on the main road.

The only sound that filled the air was from the Panchayat office radio. It was the main source of entertainment, but it would shut down after a few hours. As soon as the announcer said, "This concludes our broadcast for tonight," the radio would go silent, and the office lights would turn off. The village would then plunge into darkness.

The atmosphere was eerie, and fears began to creep in. The darkness seemed to amplify every sound, making it difficult to distinguish reality from imagination. 

Silence would descend. Occasionally, street dogs would bark, but their barks sounded different from their daytime growls. It was as if they had seen something terrifying and were crying out in fear. Even the cows tethered in the shed would moo anxiously, responding to the dogs' eerie barks. The rustling of crickets and other nocturnal creatures was unmistakable.

For those sleeping outside, it was best to fall asleep quickly. Otherwise, the foreboding atmosphere would send chills down their spines. Children, especially, would be easily spooked.

In the 1960s, most households had lightweight cots made of coir threads. These cots were a common feature in many homes.

Those lightweight cots could be easily carried wherever needed. During summer, sprinkling water on the coir cot made it feel cool.

During summer vacations, when we visited our village, a worker Jeetagadu (annual farm labourer who also does household work) would pour water from a “Bunga” ( foot note 10) in the evening to cool the courtyard. The parched earth would smell refreshing after the water sprinkling. We'd excitedly jump and play in the moistened soil while Jeetagadu would smile.

Since electricity was scarce, dinners were quick and simple, usually finished by 7 pm. Under the faint glow of oil lamps, people would finish their meals, then move outside to sleep on the cots. That's when the real entertainment began!

Jeetagadu or neighbouring children would share stories and sing songs until we fell asleep. We'd hear stories about how people would perform Chetabadi (witchcraft) using hair or nails of targeted people. We would dispose the clippings of our nails and hair carefully, fearing someone might use them against us. Our friends in the village would share these stories, and I used to believe them. Even our brave grandmother would sometimes get scared, worrying something might happen to us.

Those nights were filled with stories, songs, and eerie tales. Some would share spooky stories to scare us, speaking of ghosts on banyan tree, the devil's den, and dead bodies in the village well. I'd get terrified, but my grandmother would reassure me, 'Don't worry, my dear”

 “Don't believe all this, these are just fake stories," she'd say. But our mother would warn us, "Don't go near those two trees" or "Don't play on that street." She had many restrictions for us. There was a man in our village who knew "mantra-tantra" (black magic). Mother wouldn't even let us go near his house, fearing "Chetabadi."

Our neighbour, Dakshayani, a 10 to12 year old girl, would narrate scary tales and occasionally break into songs.

I used to love listening to Dakshayani's devotional songs, especially the one about Nagaraaja, the king cobra. She'd sing, 'Shivuni medalo Nagaraaja, Chinni Parvathi pilichenu deva devi paluku alakinchiraa, shiva Nagaraaja, Talli paluku vinnavinchiraa...' (Oh King Cobra around Shiva's neck, little Parvathi calls out to you...).

Interestingly, my mother had a fascination with snakes during her pregnancy, and she vowed to name me Nagaraju if I was a boy. And so, she did! Many still call me Nagaraju, especially back home in our village.

When Dakshayani sang that song, I thought she was making fun of me by adding my name, but later I realized it was actually a traditional song, during Nagula Chaviti, the festival of worshipping snakes by offering milk.

 

I didn't understand why she was worried back then, but later, after reading writer Yendamuri's "Tulasi Dalam" (a Telugu novel), I learned about dark practices like Chetabadi and Kashmora, a popular witchcrafts. Reading about them would scare me. Someone once said, "Why read and why fear?" But those stories drew me in.

It took me a long time to understand the logic behind the stories of "Marrichettu" (the  Banyan tree) and "Shavam" (dead body).

 

In the sky, a funeral procession: 

At midnight, four people would carry a corpse on a traditional lightweight cot (nulaka mancham) across the sky. Anyone who saw this spectacular sight would freeze in fear, and would bleed to death. This rumour spread far and wide during my childhood and it sent shivers down their spines. As kids, we'd eagerly wait to sleep outside at night, but this rumour made us hesitant. Occasionally, the breeze would stop, and the air would stagnate. Our grandmother would fan us with a handheld fan (visina karra), but soon, she'd stop, either due to fatigue or dozing off. We didn't know about electric fans back then.

Fear-filled rumours spread from one village to another, with slight variations. Urban and rural areas shared similar stories. "Midnight Sky Funeral" rumour, evoked fear. In those days, apartment culture didn't exist, and attached bathrooms were absent. Homes were larger, with spacious surroundings and a separate bathing area.

 

In the 1960s, toilets were not a common feature in every household. In fact, in many villages, areas meant for defecation were located on the outskirts, away from residential areas. These were called "bahirbhoomi" (open toilets). Separate areas were designated for men and women. In our village, people would go to the outskirts near the stream to answer nature's call.

In large households, going to the corner of the yard for urination at night was a daunting task, especially with all the fears and apprehensions. Waking up in the middle of the night to attend to nature's call was an ordeal. You couldn't wake up others sleeping nearby, so you had to go quietly. Many households faced this daily struggle.

When you woke up at night and looked up at the sky, you'd feel scared. But you couldn't help but look. The clouds would appear to be moving in various shapes and forms, some stationary, others rapidly drifting. Amidst these clouds, some people claimed to have seen a funeral procession in the sky, with four people carrying a corpse, just like the rumours. Although I never saw it myself, others claimed to have witnessed this eerie sight.

This fear would haunt them for a long time. People would share these experiences as horror stories during the day. They'd say that someone in a particular village saw this strange phenomenon in the sky and how many people fell ill and died after witnessing it. Listening to these stories would send shivers down our spines.

 

 

Hey evil woman, not now, come tomorrow! (Oh, Stree Repu Raa) : 

 

 This was another threat that scared us in those days. At night, especially on new moon nights around midnight, a strange woman with dishevelled hair would roam the streets. If she found lights on or heard voices in any house, she would enter and harm the occupants.  Sometimes that ghost kills them terribly at home. People believed she was a female spirit. This fear made the village silent at night. Everyone would shut their doors tightly and pretend to sleep, even if they weren't sleeping.

 

Those who didn't sleep would tell various stories the next morning. They'd say they heard the sound of anklets at midnight, and it sounded like someone knocked on their door. To keep this female spirit away, people would write "Hey evil woman, not now, come tomorrow!" on their doors or walls. They believed the spirit would read it and leave. I later realized this was a superstition. A friend argued that if the spirit couldn't read, how would she understand the message? I had similar thoughts but didn't express them, as we only knew only fear back then.

 

As I grew braver, my fear subsided. I learnt that the antidote to fear is to face it. I started reading horror stories, novels, and watched horror movies. If a new horror movie released, I'd eagerly watch it. My theory was that to overcome fear, one must watch more frightening movies. However, it wasn't easy. I'd watch horror movies while trembling with fear. Later, I'd weave tales to scare others.

 

After completing my post-graduation, I spent some time in Vizag. I'd occasionally scare my younger uncle's kids and their friends with ghost stories. I'd add dramatic flair while narrating, making the children shiver with fear. I still have this trait. Scaring others is entertaining! Don't assume I'm fearless, though. I'm afraid of many things - a lizard on the wall, darkness, etc. 

But when I find someone to share ghost stories with, I pretend to be brave.

 

This is a secret; now that I've shared it with you, please keep it hidden!

 

“Who is she?"  (Aame evaru?) 

 

  Now I'm talking about the horror movie "Who is she?". All horror movie directors in Tollywood ( Telugu film industry) make their films interestingly and thrillingly. They meticulously set up the scene and properties. When filming horror movies, they follow a template to evoke fear.

 

 Take female ghost movies, for instance. Even now, they depict ghosts in the same way. Undoubtedly, a ghost is always shown as a woman clad in a white sari with dishevelled hair. This is a certainty!

 

In the past, women often wore saris, and various colours were available. However, ghosts strangely preferred white saris. Hence, in every horror movie, the female ghost would wear a white sari and have unkempt hair. She'd roam around at night, holding a flickering torch. We referred to such ghosts as "Korivi Deyyalu" (female ghost with a fire brand in hand) in our village. They'd haunt graveyards, and even the brave guardian of graveyard (Katikaapari) would fear them. We'd hear such stories.

The first generation of ghosts in Tollywood wore white saris, but later directors brought some changes. During the black-and-white film era, they thought white sarees would stand out in the darkness and evoke more fear. The twinkling light from the torch in the ghost's hand would capture well on the camera.

With the advent of colour films, the depiction of ghosts changed. However, I still dislike how ghosts continue to wear saris despite fewer women wearing them in modern society.

I mentioned filmmakers, so let's talk about Vijaya Nirmala, an actress and  director. She directed the film "Devude Gelichadu" (God has won) and broke the conventional mould of depicting ghosts. In this film, the ghost appeared as just a flame, not a human figure. That's how I remember it. Unfortunately, this movie is unavailable now. If anyone has a link, please share it, and I'll try to watch it again and experience the fear.

 

“Jagame maya” : 

 

Jagame Maya - This is a Telugu horror movie. During my “busy” college days, I watched this movie at a touring talkies, located at the end of national highway. 

I said I was “busy” with studies, but that's not entirely true. I just wrote that jokingly. Actually, we wanted to watch a movie every week during our college days.

 My friends planned to watch the second show, which started at 10 PM. Back then, show timings were flexible. If there were fewer people, the manager would announce, "Let's wait for another half hour; meanwhile, let's play four more songs on the speaker." The movie theatre had a microphone speaker on its roof, playing songs from gramphone records. The manager would adjust the showtime based on the crowd.

I didn't know Jagame Maya was a horror movie. I went along with my friends, and one scene still haunts me. 

 “A driver suspects someone is in the rear seat of his car at night. He stops the car, looks back, and...” (horror music) 

The terrifying figure shocked me, and my heart almost stopped. Watching such a movie was frightening, and walking home in the darkness was even more terrifying. The national highway had minimal lighting, with only an occasional bus or lorry headlights. I feared someone was following me and ran quickly home.

 When my family learnt about this, they recited the "Anjaneya Dandakam"  for my well-being.

Hindus firmly believe that Lord Hanuman provides divine protection from all evils and instils  courage and dispels fear. 

Pathala Bhairavi: 

 

 I would feel incomplete if I didn't mention 'Pathala Bhairavi,' a classic Telugu movie that still evokes fear. I watched this 1951 film by  “Vijaya Productions” in Guntur during its second release. Back then, popular movies were re-released frequently, and people would flock to theatres. We didn't have the facility of watching old movies on YouTube or TV like today, so we had to visit cinema halls and buy tickets.

Booking tickets was challenging, especially in small towns. In big cities, advance reservation might have been possible, but elsewhere, it was mostly unavailable. Long queues formed at ticket counters, and people would wait patiently until the counter opened. Once open, chaos erupted, and stampedes were common, especially for floor and bench seats. Fights broke out, and fans exhibited extreme enthusiasm for their heroes.

Reserved class and chair-class, had more comfortable seats  and at these classes booking counters had shorter queues. Those who booked these seats were generally from the upper class.  

The ticket prices for floor and bench seats were 25 paise (Pavala) and 40 paise, respectively, during my childhood. Reserved tickets cost up to one rupee. There was no limit to selling floor tickets; even if the hall was packed, tickets were still sold.

My friend would joke, 'This is what they mean by "Nela Eenadam"! (extremely crowded). To separate men and women in floor and bench classes, wooden partitions were installed. 

Okay, I'll share more about old cinema halls later. For now, let's move to the 'Pathala Bhairavi' movie incident. It was the first to scare me after I understood the concept of movies. I was frightened more by the background music in horror or magical chants than the scenes themselves. Whenever the actor SV Ranga Rao, who played the wizard, appeared on screen, my heart pounded. During such scenes, I would shut my eyes, cover my ears with both hands, and curl up in my seat.

After the interval, the screening stopped due to a power outage. Since not all theatres had generator backup in those days, we waited patiently for the power to return. Most theatres used single projectors, which required breaks before and after the interval.

Curious, my friend and I once visited the projector room. Initially hesitant, the operator explained the process. The entire movie arrived in four reels with film boxes. With a single projector, they had to carefully replace one reel with another after each ended, taking around five minutes. This wasn't an issue with double projectors, as the second one would start immediately after the first reel finished. That's why single projectors required three breaks.

Years later, when I went to the UK, I watched 'Baahubali-2' in a cinema hall that was over a century old (see footnote no 11). The theatre management carefully preserved the old projector and put it on display. When I took a photo, I remembered my childhood days and the single projector used in cinemas back then.

 

An hour passed, and the power returned. People who came for the second show were already entering. Since the movie was released multiple times, the first show had fewer audiences. The management decided to start the movie from the beginning for the second-show crowd and even issued tickets to them, and I watched the movie from the start again, seated among them.

The titles rolled, and the story began: The princess fell in love with Thota Ramudu. Then, the wizard appeared on screen. I thought the background music would scare me, but this time, I was accustomed to it and didn't feel frightened. I watched the rest of the movie quite relaxed.

 

 I realized then that fear exists only when we fail to understand the reason. Once we understand the logic, fear disappears. I decided to remember this principle throughout my life.

 

Around the same time, I learned about the Ouija board, a tool used to summon spirits. I thought it fascinating that we could communicate with the souls of our dear ones who had passed away, believing they lingered around us.

 

A friend explained that there's a simple technique to summon these benevolent spirits, and they wouldn't harm us. Intrigued, I created a Ouija board with another friend's help, unaware of the extensive research surrounding it.

Later, I asked my friend about the board's purpose. He impressed me with his intelligence and shared many interesting facts.

The Ouija board can be purchased or handmade. Its simplicity sparked curiosity within me.

- “spirits will talk to us, but they won't appear as shown in movies. Actually, they don't have bodies. If they don't have bodies, how can they wear white sarees or hold candles? Think about it. All that's shown in horror movies is nothing but  trash.

Ghosts are real, but not like those in movies. Among them, some are good, some are bad. If we summon good ghosts, nothing will happen to us. I've spoken to good ghosts; you know?" my friend said confidently, appearing brave.

I was astonished, wondering how he could be so fearless. He seemed like a knowledgeable person, not like the evil sorcerer from "Patala Bhairavi."

He continued, "Hey, if you want to talk to spirits, just say so. It's easy. Recently, we can summon those who passed away in our homes, and they'll converse with us, answering our questions and revealing our futures."

I thought, "This sounds interesting!" We created a board to summon spirits together. Making the board was simple. We took a plank, pasted a  white paper on it, and wrote the English alphabet from A to Z in a circular pattern with a pen.

In the centre, we drew a small circle and wrote "YES" on one side and "NO" on the other. Between these circles, we added numbers from 0 to 10. We also wrote the directions - east, west, etc. - on the board and finally "GOOD BYE" at the bottom.

We brought the board home, and our family was curious. We built up the suspense, and they were sceptical. Undeterred, my friend and I set up chairs in a quiet corner, placed the board on a small table, and began the spirit-summoning game.

We used the cap of a "Vicks" cold relief medicine tin. We placed our index fingers on it and started invoking good spirits. Unbelievably, the cap started moving! We asked, "Who are you?" and "Is it you, grandma?"

The cap moved, pointing to the "YES" and the letters spelling out answers. It was astonishing! My friend exclaimed, "We did it!" Our family members joined in, curious, and we asked questions, receiving eerie responses.

The spirit, addressed as "Bamma" (grandma), responded through the moving cap, leaving us stunned and curious.

 

Fear subsides with science: 

 

Darkness is fear, and light is science. If reason is understood, fear disappears. Until now, the events that frightened us had logical explanations. Once we understand the reasons, we feel relieved.

We were amazed by magic shows until we discovered the hidden techniques. Similarly, the Ouija board works on logic.

When we questioned our deceased  “Bamma” through the board, she couldn't have answered in English, which she didn't know. We realized that our fingers on the cap moved involuntarily, aligning with our thoughts.

Our minds create this drama; no spirit is answering. Some still believe in the board, while others view it as a time-pass game.

The incidents I mentioned earlier - the corpse under the tree, the funeral procession in the sky, and the woman's promise to return - all have logical explanations. Once understood, fear disappears.

While studying botany, I realized that sleeping under large trees at night can cause breathing difficulties, triggering fear. It's not a ghost; it's the tree's natural characteristic causing this phenomenon.

Fear arises from ignorance, and science dispels it with logic, reason and understanding.

 

Tree Activities - Logic: 

 

Like us, every tree breathes. Trees inhale oxygen and exhale carbon dioxide. During the day, plants and trees absorb carbon dioxide from the atmosphere and produce energy through photosynthesis, with sunlight's help. This process stops at night, and respiration is the only remaining life process. That's why carbon dioxide levels are higher near trees at night than during the day. When people sleep under trees, especially on still nights, they may experience breathing difficulties, which can be life-threatening.

 

Fear spreads due to ignorance. Knowing the truth eliminates fear. Similarly, there's logic behind seeing a corpse in the sky at midnight. Clouds appear in various shapes, and our thoughts influence how we interpret them. Some might see a cot, a corpse, and four people carrying it. Such sightings can create sensations.

 

The 'O Stree Repu raa' incident was a fabrication, preying on people's fears. Knowledge dispels superstitions. Science has enabled me to think logically and rationally.

 

Fear is like darkness, and knowledge is like light. If you're fearful, evil shadows will haunt you. But with courage, fear disappears. Fear is just a dark chapter in life's journey."

Footnote: (See: 10) 

Bunga: It's a type of vessel used to draw water from a well. It's similar to a 'binde' (a water-filling vessel) rather than a bucket. A rope is tied around the neck of the Bunga, and then lowered into the well. In the past, many homes had wells without 'cheptas' (a platform to draw water) or 'gilakas' (a pulley system). A dried palm tree trunk was placed across the well. One leg would be outside, and the other on the trunk, with legs wide apart. Using both hands to hold the rope, people would skilfully lower the Bunga into the well and quickly pull out water. This was a skill.

 

Footnote: See 11: 

  A 100-year-old cinema hall - When I visited England in 2017, I had the opportunity to visit a century-old cinema hall, which I'll describe now. The details of that experience are still vivid. Watching Bahubali-2, a film that rewrote Indian cinema history, in a historic UK cinema hall (105 years old) was a thrilling experience. The Rex Cinema theatre in Elland was built in 1912, a time when Indian cinema was still in its infancy. In 2012, the Rex cinema theatre celebrated its centenary and underwent renovations without altering its original exterior design. Notably, India's first talkie film, Bhakta Prahlada, was released in 1937, while India's first silent film Raja Harishchandra had its theatrical release on 3rd May 1913.

 

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