Returning home after shopping at the nearby market, I noticed some commotion in the living room of my neighbour RK’s flat. His entrance door being fully open, I paused and had a look inside. Not only were both RK and his wife a worried lot, the four or five masons and labourers engaged in an ambitious renovation work in the flat also looked puzzled.
When I asked them about the cause of their anxiety, Nita, the lady of the house, said in her shrill voice: “Look at this Uncle”, pointing towards the floor. One of the several white tiles that were being laid on the floor was uprooted. I exchanged blank looks with them and asked, “How could this have happened?”
Promptly came the reply. “Evil eye ... somebody cast evil looks on these beautiful tiles and then this ...”, blurted the lady with understandable vehemence.
“But only one has come out of its place,” I said with 100 per cent innocence. Almost chiding me, the hurt lady said: “Please don’t say anything about the other tiles.”
I was hurt, yet, I acquiesced and apologised. Expressing my sympathies, I came back home and told my wife about it. She was also shocked, but did not say any thing. I pondered over what could have happened and why they were curt with me. I drew my own conclusions and found I was right. Due to the location of my neighbour’s main door, whoever comes to or leaves our house has to invariably pass by that gate. Though every day, the maids, the garbage collector, the laundry man and the like visit us, my neighbours did not think any of them would cast that evil look. Then, who could be the culprit? It appears that after thorough confabulations among my neighbours, the contractor, the labour force and considering the circumstantial evidence they came to the conclusion that it must be me because I pass by their open door several times during the day, casting an evil look inside.
Normally, my neighbours keep their door closed all the time. But it had to be kept open for several hours because of the renovation/construction work inside. My feeling of having been identified as the culprit was strengthened by the fact that soon after the episode whenever any of the work force or the neighbours spotted me coming, he/she would hurriedly close the door so that the newly laid out floor or other works were not visible to me. Invariably, an attempt was made to cover the inside of the door with some thing to prevent any kind of peeping. Seemingly, the workers had been given strict instructions. So strong was their belief.
Nevertheless, I, on my part, did not want to embarrass my neighbours who had been so good to us in times of need until that day. So, I also avoided looking at them or inside their flat even if the door was ajar. For some days, we did not greet each other. It was painful and very much against my temperament. But then I was hopeful of resuming our good relations after the renovation work was over. I was reminded of my mother who used to tell us about a Hindi saying according to which, one should not antagonise the cook, the neighbour and the vaidya (healer).
I wanted to forget about the unfortunate happening. But lo! Even as I waited for the neighbour’s strong feelings to wear off, I got another jolt. One afternoon, a man came to deliver an air cooler at my neighbour’s place. As luck would have it, just when the delivery man was unpacking the four-feet high branded cooler outside his flat, I stepped out. Spotting me, my neighbour, became almost panicky. In a hushed tone, he asked the man to put the big carton back on the gadget. But not being aware of the background, he did not react. With the speed of a leopard, my neighbour pulled the cooler inside and the door was shut to the bewilderment of the delivery man.
The incident left an ugly imprint on my psyche. A few days later, a mason gave me a scientific reason for the detachment of the tile. “It is not an unusual phenomenon. Sometimes, the steam produced by water coming into contact with hot sand below a tile pushes it out. Also, it could be due to poor workmanship of the mason who would conveniently shift the blame on to some onlooker’s evil eye.
Clearly, this was a case of superstition overriding scientific explanation — and spoiling a human relationship.
Lalit Raizada is a journalist based in India.
