Scribbler inspires all over again. So here I am, writing about similar things…my obsession with the supernatural, this time. Of course, Scribbler says she’s scared to watch any horror flick. For me, the equation is a tad different. I love watching horror flicks. And I love getting goose pimples all the way from the stem of my receding hairline till the tip of my bruised and broken toe nails (Bruised and broken because today, someone at work ran a whole god dammed chair across my feet…however incredible that sounds…talk about corporate back-biting and competition…this is physical assault folks!).
Anyway, horror for me is a stress-buster, an anti-depressant, and an aphrodisiac. When I watch horror movies, I prefer being alone. I will do a lot of inane things like shut the doors and windows, use a chair from the dining table as a defense wall between me in the room and the ghost in the television set etc. (Lest the ghost a la The Ring just pops out of the screen). Needless to say, my husband gets uber exasperated when I begin such unadulterated dementia…but that’s the thrill of it…don’t you think?
Going to the loo, I agree, is a huge challenge after The Grudge kind of movies, where the spirit kills indiscriminately. Every single person dies…I wonder what the spirit does after that…die of sheer boredom and lack of better sense? You need at least one living soul to scare the hell out of…what say?
Come to think of it, going to the loo in the dark is a mind-blowing challenge any day, irrespective of whether you’ve watched The Grudge or not. Even if going to the loo can be somehow managed without severe damage to self-esteem, coming back to the room is a horrendous nightmare. I get this absolutely ridiculous idea time and again that the bored spirit is going to whack me, suddenly block my way, or on a more aggressive note, pull out whatever is left of my hair (at the end of a tough corporate week).
Something as mindless as Vaastu Shastra made me do something more mindless than the movie itself. We had gone to the forests of Karnataka yet again. The bungalow was eerie, to put it mildly. I suddenly recalled the horror in Vaastu Shastra and suggested that all of us should move together, and sleep in one room at night. There was a newly married couple who had traveled with us then, with bags of Kamasutras and dreams of achieving sexual sublimity. They haven’t forgiven us till date, I ‘m sure.
I remember another incident back at the in-laws…when I was supposed to be this low-key, soft-spoken, newly-wed, coy bride. The house is huge, replete with Belgian architecture; sprawling verandahs where you can spot a frail shadow in a white saree even during breakfast. The loo is at one end of the verandah (I’m genuinely sorry how most of these stories have something to do with the bladder). Too embarrassed to admit that I was scared, I went to the loo alone one night. My husband, being largely insensitive for most parts of my two and a half year old married life, didn’t realize that I might want him to wait on me outside the door. My father-in-law however guessed that I might need help. The sad part of the story is that I didn’t know he would be waiting. The moment I saw a dark form outside the door, I let out an earth-shattering scream with flaring nostrils and tightened knuckles, letting go of the mild coyness that I had promised to exhibit. The next action, I still don’t believe I did it, and it happened in a jiffy…I picked up a broom from somewhere and rushed at the figure. By then the larger family of aunts and uncles and cousins and cousins’ children had gathered around the place, and someone switched the lights on. I don’t think I have it in me to describe the pained embarrassment of the moment. My father-in-law, poor man, was flabbergasted, having been threatened with a broom by a should-be-shy bride. Everything of course, dissolved in mad laughter, and the story became quite a legend.
There are many more such thrills and horror movie-influenced moments in my life. I’m afraid if I don’t stop, a lot of you would know many more embarrassing details of my life, which I’d rather not divulge otherwise. So, for sanity’s sake… adiós!
Anyway, horror for me is a stress-buster, an anti-depressant, and an aphrodisiac. When I watch horror movies, I prefer being alone. I will do a lot of inane things like shut the doors and windows, use a chair from the dining table as a defense wall between me in the room and the ghost in the television set etc. (Lest the ghost a la The Ring just pops out of the screen). Needless to say, my husband gets uber exasperated when I begin such unadulterated dementia…but that’s the thrill of it…don’t you think?
Going to the loo, I agree, is a huge challenge after The Grudge kind of movies, where the spirit kills indiscriminately. Every single person dies…I wonder what the spirit does after that…die of sheer boredom and lack of better sense? You need at least one living soul to scare the hell out of…what say?
Come to think of it, going to the loo in the dark is a mind-blowing challenge any day, irrespective of whether you’ve watched The Grudge or not. Even if going to the loo can be somehow managed without severe damage to self-esteem, coming back to the room is a horrendous nightmare. I get this absolutely ridiculous idea time and again that the bored spirit is going to whack me, suddenly block my way, or on a more aggressive note, pull out whatever is left of my hair (at the end of a tough corporate week).
Something as mindless as Vaastu Shastra made me do something more mindless than the movie itself. We had gone to the forests of Karnataka yet again. The bungalow was eerie, to put it mildly. I suddenly recalled the horror in Vaastu Shastra and suggested that all of us should move together, and sleep in one room at night. There was a newly married couple who had traveled with us then, with bags of Kamasutras and dreams of achieving sexual sublimity. They haven’t forgiven us till date, I ‘m sure.
I remember another incident back at the in-laws…when I was supposed to be this low-key, soft-spoken, newly-wed, coy bride. The house is huge, replete with Belgian architecture; sprawling verandahs where you can spot a frail shadow in a white saree even during breakfast. The loo is at one end of the verandah (I’m genuinely sorry how most of these stories have something to do with the bladder). Too embarrassed to admit that I was scared, I went to the loo alone one night. My husband, being largely insensitive for most parts of my two and a half year old married life, didn’t realize that I might want him to wait on me outside the door. My father-in-law however guessed that I might need help. The sad part of the story is that I didn’t know he would be waiting. The moment I saw a dark form outside the door, I let out an earth-shattering scream with flaring nostrils and tightened knuckles, letting go of the mild coyness that I had promised to exhibit. The next action, I still don’t believe I did it, and it happened in a jiffy…I picked up a broom from somewhere and rushed at the figure. By then the larger family of aunts and uncles and cousins and cousins’ children had gathered around the place, and someone switched the lights on. I don’t think I have it in me to describe the pained embarrassment of the moment. My father-in-law, poor man, was flabbergasted, having been threatened with a broom by a should-be-shy bride. Everything of course, dissolved in mad laughter, and the story became quite a legend.
There are many more such thrills and horror movie-influenced moments in my life. I’m afraid if I don’t stop, a lot of you would know many more embarrassing details of my life, which I’d rather not divulge otherwise. So, for sanity’s sake… adiós!
2 comments:
hahaha...I don't believe you threw a broom at your FIL!!! Really?? This takes the cake really...and the muffins and the scones and the doughnuts!
I did...
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