Embracing the darkness

I had been hearing right from the early days of my childhood that black was bad because it represented evil, the devil and the forces of darkness. Black meant negativity.

Whether it was the neighbours, classmates, relatives, priests or others, I found them all having spoken at one time or the other against black and darkness. This unanimous verdict, even though it might not have any rationale, somehow sank deep into my mind over the years.

The child in me reasoned that if so many people were saying the same thing, there must be some truth in it. Black became an anathema to me. I started dreading anything that was black — and darkness.

Maybe it was owing to my extra sensitivity that I became overly conscious of black. So much so that whenever I was plunged into total darkness, I would see a pair of circles that looked like eyes staring at me. They would disappear the next moment, only to reappear.

Slowly but steadily, the fear of the unknown started getting the better of me.

I must have been about 10 years old when, during a wintry night, I suddenly found myself in pitch darkness. A major power blackout had plunged the city into total darkness, causing an eerie silence all around. I started feeling that my end was coming and in a few moments I would be dead.

Death would take me away from my parents, siblings and others in our large family. It would be a sudden separation. There would be no occasion to meet and talk to them for the last time. After death, would I be able to see them crying and wailing for me?

And then I jumped up with a shriek and sat in my bed. I was gasping for breath and sweating heavily. The phenomenon alarmed my parents, who decided to rid me of the unfounded fears that could make my future life difficult. Their strategy was to make me love darkness.

A tiny transformer bulb that diffused moon-like white light was fixed on the ceiling to recreate a moon-lit night. Such measures, however, failed to erase the deep impressions that had been etched on my mind in childhood.

As I grew older I started to overcome the fear, but it stayed with me to a lesser degree. I realised this when I felt like screaming as my train passed through a dark tunnel en route to what was then Bombay. It was daytime and the lights in the compartments were switched off. So darkness descended all of a sudden.

I could not see the person sitting opposite. The reverberating noise of the train further compounded my nervousness. I anxiously waited for the train to come out of the dark tunnel. And when it finally emerged, I heaved a sigh of relief. I bet there were others who felt the same.

Several years earlier, I had felt doomed when a severe dust storm turned the air dark brown. It was a frightening sight. The clatter of doors and windows added to my fears.

On another occasion, thick, dark monsoon clouds turned day into night. That scared me, making me wonder if the world was coming to an end. It was only after several gruelling minutes that I finally saw the proverbial silver lining in the dark clouds.

Once, a total solar eclipse had given me some anxious moments, but I was mentally prepared to experience the rare event. And that was probably the turning point in my life.

Since that day, I have started to love darkness and the colour black — so much so that I prefer dark clothes, as well as black coffee and tea.

My phobia has turned into a mania — I now crave darkness. I am still trying to find out what brought about this great transformation.

Lalit Raizada is a freelance journalist based in India.