My loathing of halloween is an adult thing. I guess once you've buried a child, the whole fascination with death is less amusing. :/
dead bodies aren't scarey, they're just dead, cold, and too real. The dead don't haunt you, the un-lived hope of love and life haunt.
the thrill of being scared shitless wore off in an instant when that impossible death really happened.
how's that for a morose theme?
p.s. the tone might be irritable, but I'm not angry. I just find the whole thing a waste of time, and I'm trying to find ways to spend my day affirming life.
There's enough death, right? And too little time to LIVE.
Let me tell you guys a story fit for the Halloween. Also, rather interesting.
I don't know if you have heard of Jim Corbett. A famous big-game hunter during the colonial times, he was also well-versed in jungle lore and wrote about it. In one such writing, he tells of his encounter with the chudail.
The chudail is the "most feared evil spirits found in lower reaches of the Himalayas" [my native place, btw]. She appears in the form of a woman with her feet turned backwards; and her shriek can "curdle one’s blood and arrest one’s heartbeat." In this latter characteristic, she resembles the Irish banshee. She also has many other sinister qualities about which you can read here if you are interested.
So, one day, while Corbett was having dinner with his sister Maggie "when clear and piercing on the night air came the call of the chudail, and instantly every sound in the village was hushed" — except from Corbett. The intrepid Englishman immediately stepped out of the house, and as he did so, the chudail called again. The call came from a tree "and there, sitting on the topmost branch in brilliant moonlight was the maker of the call, the chudail."
This is how Corbett describes the call: "It is possible to describe some sounds by a combination of letters or of words, as for instance the 'cooee' of a human being, or the 'tap, tap, tapping' of a woodpecker, but no words of mine can describe the call of the chudail. If i said it resembled the cry of a soul in torment, or of a human being in agony, it would convey no meaning to you, for neither you nor i have heard either of these sounds. Nor can i liken the call to any other sounds heard in the jungles, for it is something apart, something that doesn't have any connexion with our world and that has the effect of curdling the hearer's blood and arresting his heart-beats.”
Have you guessed already? Yes — the chudail was a bird, a migrant. Corbett describes it in detail. He did not shoot it, lest he should miss and add to her legend among the villagers, the bastids. “After calling about twenty times the bird spread its wings, and gliding off the tree, vanished into the night.”
The chudail sounds like the lead character in most modern horror movies.
Gah.
I try to act like I don't fall for anything like that, but the last time I went through a "haunted house", I nearly choked the guy next to me just clinging on for dear life.
Don't worry, Jen. I didn't know about your loss, but wasn't that all the more reason for stopping before i shot my mouth off — a rule i almost always follow when it comes to other "serious" matters but tend to forget at other times.
Anyway, let's move on. Tell me how did you like the little anecdote i posted above... :)
Oh, if i seem to be mocking the British a little, it is because i wanted to give the narrative a personal touch. Corbett was as much of an "insider" as they can get. :)
But if you must have a 'moral', notice how the natural meets the irrational [the fear of emasculation, etc.]
In the guise of the enchantress, this femme fatale hunts for young men on highways and seduces a lone traveller to accompany her. Sometimes, she imprisons him in her lair in the graveyard, sucking his blood a little at a time. Sometimes, she is described as feeding on his semen. Legend says that a churel will hold a young man captive until he is elderly, or else uses him sexually until he withers, dies, and joins the spirit. Another tale narrates that a young man who is seduced by the churel and eats the food given to him, returns at dawn to the village, turned into an aged man. [Wiki]
Comments
Sure is nice to visit, though!
Texas is incredibly affordable.
felt incredibly relaxed when I lived there. People a bit more laid back in their moral judgement.
OK is affordable but very judgemental.
That's what we get for living in The Bible Belt.
I love it and I hate it. :/
I had a horrible dream last night, just in time for my least favorite "holiday". :/
dead bodies aren't scarey, they're just dead, cold, and too real. The dead don't haunt you, the un-lived hope of love and life haunt.
the thrill of being scared shitless wore off in an instant when that impossible death really happened.
how's that for a morose theme?
p.s. the tone might be irritable, but I'm not angry. I just find the whole thing a waste of time, and I'm trying to find ways to spend my day affirming life.
There's enough death, right? And too little time to LIVE.
For what it is worth, accept a friend's apologies. It teaches me not to joke all the time.
It had nothing to do with you.
Halloween is not the only holiday that bothers me.
I don't know if you have heard of Jim Corbett. A famous big-game hunter during the colonial times, he was also well-versed in jungle lore and wrote about it. In one such writing, he tells of his encounter with the chudail.
The chudail is the "most feared evil spirits found in lower reaches of the Himalayas" [my native place, btw]. She appears in the form of a woman with her feet turned backwards; and her shriek can "curdle one’s blood and arrest one’s heartbeat." In this latter characteristic, she resembles the Irish banshee. She also has many other sinister qualities about which you can read here if you are interested.
So, one day, while Corbett was having dinner with his sister Maggie "when clear and piercing on the night air came the call of the chudail, and instantly every sound in the village was hushed" — except from Corbett. The intrepid Englishman immediately stepped out of the house, and as he did so, the chudail called again. The call came from a tree "and there, sitting on the topmost branch in brilliant moonlight was the maker of the call, the chudail."
This is how Corbett describes the call: "It is possible to describe some sounds by a combination of letters or of words, as for instance the 'cooee' of a human being, or the 'tap, tap, tapping' of a woodpecker, but no words of mine can describe the call of the chudail. If i said it resembled the cry of a soul in torment, or of a human being in agony, it would convey no meaning to you, for neither you nor i have heard either of these sounds. Nor can i liken the call to any other sounds heard in the jungles, for it is something apart, something that doesn't have any connexion with our world and that has the effect of curdling the hearer's blood and arresting his heart-beats.”
Have you guessed already? Yes — the chudail was a bird, a migrant. Corbett describes it in detail. He did not shoot it, lest he should miss and add to her legend among the villagers, the bastids. “After calling about twenty times the bird spread its wings, and gliding off the tree, vanished into the night.”
Gah.
I try to act like I don't fall for anything like that, but the last time I went through a "haunted house", I nearly choked the guy next to me just clinging on for dear life.
He married me anyway. ;-)
Anyway, let's move on. Tell me how did you like the little anecdote i posted above... :)
lol. poor fellow! ;)
I suppose it had to be an outsider to really see the chudail for what it was, a bird.
A member of the community would've seen the monster.
;-)
In Mexico, there are tales of a creature called the chupacabra. It's horrifying, but rarely ever seen in daylight. :p
Why do you ask?
Is there a moral to your story about the chudail?
In the guise of the enchantress, this femme fatale hunts for young men on highways and seduces a lone traveller to accompany her. Sometimes, she imprisons him in her lair in the graveyard, sucking his blood a little at a time. Sometimes, she is described as feeding on his semen. Legend says that a churel will hold a young man captive until he is elderly, or else uses him sexually until he withers, dies, and joins the spirit. Another tale narrates that a young man who is seduced by the churel and eats the food given to him, returns at dawn to the village, turned into an aged man. [Wiki]
lol. You would be surprised, my friend. ;)