By Sujatha Balasubramanian

Navarasa literally means, nine emotions.

According to Indian tradition, the basic emotions in life are divided under nine heads; Shringara– love, Hasya– humour, Karuna– pathos, Roudra– anger, Veera– valor, Bhaya– fear, Bhibhatsa– horror, Vismaya– wonder and Shantah– peacefulness.

Each of the following stories is meant to portray one of the Rasas or emotions.

‘Bhaya’

“One who has never been afraid,” said the Guru, “is truly insensitive.”

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“I don’t like snakes,” said little Raja, emphatically. “See, this one has such a huge mouth.” He held his arms wide open. “And he has swallowed my beautiful red counter.” He retrieved his marker from the jaws of the devouring monster and said, “Let’s play all over again.”

“But, Raja,” protested Nalini laughingly, “if you are going to start a fresh game every time you come to a snake, when are we going to finish?”

“This time. I’m going right up this ladder and across here,” the five-year old chanted, pointing to the board, “and climb up this tall ladder and I’ll be home!” Jubilantly, he placed the victorious red counter at the top of the board.

“Oh! You little cheat!” laughed Nalini as she playfully pulled his ear, “you haven’t even thrown the dice yet.” There was a tug at her sari and a soft voice said, insistently, “Ball, ball, play ball.” An enormous ball was thrown into Nalini’s lap. Raja’s sister Anu trotted away to a corner and turned to face her aunt, arms stretched out eagerly. Nalini bounced the light sphere of gaily coloured plastic as gently as she could. The child jumped up and down excitedly but the ball slipped out of her short plump arms and rolled under her bed. Nalini began to gather it, but Raja was already crawling under the cot shouting, “I’m first, I’m first.” Anu caught hold of his legs which protruded from the corner and began screaming, “No, no, mine!”

“Well, Nalini, you seem to be having an exciting time.” Indu surveyed the chaos in the room, calmly. “Oh! I really love to play with them, they are such darlings,” smiled Nalini as she straightened her sari and came across. Indu looked at her sister expressively and shrugged her shoulders. “Much as I hate to break it up, dear Nalini, I do think it’s getting late. You ought to be on your way home. Mother would never forgive me if I don’t pack you off before dark.”

“Is it already time for me to leave? Why, Indu! It’s just half-past four and quite bright!” said Nalini.

“You don’t know how soon it gets dark up here in winter.” warned her sister, thrusting a small basket into her hands. “Better hurry up and catch the 4-50 bus. Here, take these flowers for Mother. I’ll be in to see you all next week.”

“Well,” said Nalini with a little exasperation, “this is 1965 and I am a sensible adult absolutely capable of taking care of myself on a short bus journey in the fashionable Nilgiris.”

But Indu shook her head soberly. “There have been a lot of terrible things happening lately – one reads about them all the time in the papers.” Nalini found herself being propelled firmly towards the gate. The two children crowded round her shouting, “When will you be back, bring some more chocolates, next time we’ll play cricket with my new set!” all at once. Nalini smiled and waved affectionately to them as she walked towards the bus stand.

It might have been a tiny streak of perverseness in her which made her not exactly dawdle, but walk a trifle slower than usual. With only slight disappointment, she noted the back of the bus vanishing around the bend as she entered the enclosure. She shrugged her shoulders and sat down on the bench, placing the basket beside her, preparing to wait the half-hour for the next bus, only wishing she had brought something with her to read. It was then that the man entered and sat down on the bench opposite hers.

Nalini looked around, unconcerned and bored. She opened the basket, unwrapped the carefully packed flowers, admired them for a few minutes, rearranged and wrapped them up all over again. She checked the contents of her hand bag, counted out the change for her ticket and placed it handy. She glanced at her watch. There was still a quarter of an hour to do. Casually, she began inspecting the other occupant of the bus-stand.

He was about forty-five or fifty, of medium height and rather stocky, with hair, a nondescript, mousey grey. There was a growth of beard, three or four days old, on his bloated face, his pale, watery eyes were expressionless. He wore a much-used, dirty pair of brown pants, a shirt that might have been cream-colored once and a bright blue woollen scarf wound tightly around his neck. He coughed every few minutes, a dry, rasping cough interspersed with an asthmatic wheeze. A rather unsavoury specimen, thought Nalini, as she turned away. It was not even then that the seeds of fear were sown.

Soon, some more people came in and the bus was signalled to start. They all got in and Nalini found herself a place next to the window in front. With flourish of horns, the ancient vehicle went round to corner on its downward journey. In a few minutes, the dim lights of the city were left behind and as she watched, a dark mist descended on the blue-tinged hills and deep gorges.

One by one, the distant peaks vanished and the twilit landscape was obliterated as if by a giant eraser. Nalini looked out of the window. Darkness falls, she thought, how true some of these clichés are, darkness really falls here, up on the hills like a cloud of evil, black gas covering everything in a matter of minutes.

She shivered slightly as the mist crept in, cold and dank. Mother and Father will be worried, she thought, I’ve never been out so late; Indu was right, I should have started earlier. She wondered what her sister had meant by saying that terrible things were happening. She smiled wryly to herself as she thought, this is the sort of night, that anything may happen.

Above the subdued conversations of the passengers, a dry, racking cough sounded. That man, thought Nalini, looked positively wicked; in fact, not at all the sort of person I’d like to meet on a dark night. Well, you are hardly a couple of feet away from him and it is a dark night out there, she reminded herself. But, of course, the bus was full of people, she was not alone. She glanced back at the other passengers. The bus was not quite full, not even half full, actually there were only five others besides the man and herself. What if they all got off before she did? For a moment, she quailed at the prospect of being left alone with the man in the blue scarf, but it seemed rather improbable.

The bright headlamps of the bus threw light on the winding mountain road. Beyond was darkness. Nalini thought longingly of the warm, cheerful room and the excited voices of children she had left behind hardly a couple of hours ago. He did keep staring at me at the bus stand, she thought; suppose he is following me, knowing that I am alone? The bus slowed down and came to a stop. Two men got out and it started again. A cough sounded close to her eyes and Nalini almost jumped. The man had moved up and was sitting just two places away from her!

Was it last week that her father had pointed out the news item to her about a woman being assaulted on the other side of the hills? Nalini buttoned up her cardigan. That man is evil, she thought, I can see it in his cruel eyes; why didn’t I bring a torch, how am I going to walk down the dark lane when I get off the bus? Pray God, he gets off before me, pray God all this is only a dream. At the next halt, they all got down and only the two of them were left, she and the man in the blue scarf. Nalini glanced at him out of the corners of her eyes. He had huge, hairy arms with thick wrists. I won’t have a chance if he is after me, not in this desolate, dark corner of the mountains, she thought, wildly. Oh, why did I get into this accursed bus!

Frantically, she thought of calling out to the driver, to anyone to help her against this menace. A burst of laughter from the man made her chill to the bones. The three of them, the driver, the conductor and the man were enjoying a joke! They are all in it together, her mind whirled, they are all playing with me like a cat with a mouse. She huddled back in her corner, clutching the basket and her bag. He won’t dare try anything with her in the bus, but once I get down – into the dark woods – I’ll be at his mercy, her instinct told her. In spite of the cold, she could feel wet patches of sweat beginning to form down her back.

It seemed to her that in no time at all they came down to the next halt. She gathered her things and made for the door praying, Oh, God, don’t let him get out here, please, God, make him go on in the bus. She climbed down the two steps and walked across the road swiftly. Holding her breath, she turned back – and saw him, standing under the lamp-post, looking at her. Then she knew for certain!

The bus rattled away and she walked forward quickly getting farther and farther from the friendly light of the lamp-post. When she looked back again he had vanished. He’s out there somewhere in the night following me, she thought, terrified. She breathed heavily, clumsily, and increased her pace. Muffled, indeterminate nocturnal sounds came from the shadows. Oh! My God! she thought, that is his wheezing cough, he is so close enough to touch me. If only I could drop the basket and run – no, I shouldn’t do that, he’ll know that I am petrified. She went on rapidly, trying not to blunder into the thick bushes on either side of the road, trying to see if the man was ahead.

Something hairy brushed across her cheek and Nalini stood for a moment paralyzed with fear. Then she dropped her basket and bag and ran down the lane, sobbing silently to herself, her wide-open eyes staring into the night. Blindly, instinctively, she turned the corner and saw a glimmer of light from the house. Desperately she ran forward, the echo of following footsteps ringing in her ears like the pounding of blood.

With a trembling sigh, she put her hand on the latch to open the gate. A strong arm came out from the dark and clasped her shoulder firmly. Then she screamed – one long, loud scream of unmitigated terror.

“Whatever kept you so late?” her father asked, coming out of the shadows, “I have been looking out for you.”