Referring to superstition as belief is quite a euphemism, and a popular one at that. Recently, I got to see this up close. On January 24, 2007, I had suffered a slipped disc. On January, 24, 2008, I fractured my ankle. This strange coincidence does not end with the dates of the accidents; it begins there. The reasons for these accidents were harmless too — the disc was hurt when I bent low to reach a plug socket, while the ankle’s bone cracked when I slipped without much trigger. In both the cases, I consulted an orthopaedic. On both occasions, it turned out to be the same doctor. (I do not count this one as a coincidence though since the orthopaedic works in the hospital closest to my house). Albeit I saw the timing of the two accidents as a rare coincidence, others around me found it freakish. To them, it was a paranormal phenomenon. Folks around me showed concern at the sight of the plastered leg, but became grave when I told them about the coincidences. I secretly enjoyed their jaw-dropping reactions till the advice started to pour. “The same date? OMG! Get a puja done!” was the reaction of a well-meaning colleague. “This is too spooky to be dismissed. Consult a pundit”, said an acquaintance. A neighbour thrust the visiting card of an astrologer in my hand. She promised to have him visit me. Visit, my foot! For the believers around me, this was the perfect opportunity to strike and score. Yet, what I attacked as their ‘superstition’, they defended as their ‘belief’. They shunned ‘superstition’ for its pejorative connotations. Instead, they preferred the less value-laden term ‘belief’. Clearly, ‘belief’ offers total protection from any doubts or questioning. Belief is private and sacrosanct, thus most easily nurtured and defended. Call it by any name, superstition is superstition! Hide it as much as you can, one’s behaviour offers glimpses into the real self. Many self-proclaimed rationalists are seen touching wood. The touchwood practice dates back to when people believed in tree spirits and their potential for good luck. Yet, it flourishes in our 21st century wi-fi homes and workplaces. Just when I thought I was done with ‘believers’, came another one. The domestic help refused to cook eggs for ten days. This, he said, was to seek forgiveness from the Holy Mother who had punished his son with chicken pox. Phew!
