Edited by: Sakshi Bhagat
I saw her again in the same spot where I had first seen her as a curious 10-year-old who was looking for any chance to not stay indoors. She was standing near the palm tree in the compound of the abandoned house that once belonged to someone but is now overgrown with all kinds of local shrubs. The compound was near my grandmother’s house and because it wasn’t too far from home and was in the neighbourhood, my cousin and I were allowed to go there provided we returned before it got too dark, so playing in that compound was one of our afternoon activities during summer break. I remember when we would play hide and seek among the bushes and when we chased each other around the derelict house while playing tag. Exploring the overgrown flora and the fauna that came with it was also an activity we used to do. Things started changing when my family moved closer to my grandmother’s place. Because it is in a different region than where we used to live before, the holidays, days off and breaks changed too. Because of this, I started to spend more time with my grandmother and would mostly be alone in my pursuits there since it would still be school time for my cousin. This did not stop me from continuing my exploration of the old compound. It was during one of these solo explorations that I first saw the Yakshi.
This happened when I was at my grandmother’s place for Onam as I had got two weeks off from school because of this. Since it was a few days before the actual festivities, it was business as usual at home which meant that the adults would be doing their own thing in the afternoon while I was left to my devices. This meant exploration time for me so I (obviously) went to where the abandoned house was. I saw her for the first time here, the Yakshi (in all her glory?). At first glance, I was struck by her beauty which was very different from the kind of beauty I was used to in people- it was as if she belonged to the bygone era of my grandmother’s childhood. Her long hair and kohl-lined eyes accentuated her vintage-ness. She was wearing an off-white “Settu-Mundu” (a two-piece garment that looks like a sari when draped that way) with a plain black blouse to go with it. With the way she dressed and looked, I as a child first thought that she was probably someone who lived nearby and had come here to get some grass for her cattle so I continued doing my thing and even shot her a polite smile to which she smiled back like any other well-intentioning adult. I moved closer to her during my exploration and I realised that she had moved a few inches away from her original position, but I had not heard any noise of movement. Not thinking much of it, I continued looking for cool plants and I found some touch-me-nots. Deciding to move closer to them as they were much closer to the ground, I crouched down. She had moved again and was near me as I sensed the ends of her sari blowing in the wind. I decided to turn my head to smile at her when I suddenly became aware of the fact that I had not heard her move. In fact, there were no signs of her having walked from the palm tree to where I was. Fear struck in me and I ran back home to tell the adults about what (or whom) I saw. The reactions I got were varied. My parents told me that I was probably seeing things when I mentioned the part about her moving but not making any noise and that I should watch and read less fantasy stuff. However, my grandmother told me that I probably saw a Yakshi who had decided to get a change of scenery as they (Yakshis) usually venture out after dark. “Yakshis”, she told me, “used to be human women, once upon a time. They were wronged by men, either their father or their lover and killed. Because they were wronged by a man, they are vengeful against men and lure men looking to spend time with a beautiful woman at night by taking that form. Once they successfully lure men away from civilization towards their home which is a palm tree, they drink the men’s blood. In the morning when people pass by the same palm tree, they would see a drying, rotting carcass devoid of any sign of blood.”. “But what about women? Won’t they do anything to women?”, I asked my grandmother. “Why would they do anything to us? We haven’t done anything to anger them. I understand why she would do this though I certainly won’t go by her route.”, my grandmother said with a chuckle. “What about worshipping them as gods, like the one Yakshi shrine we saw at that temple yesterday?”, I ask her. “Well yes, that is also a practice. Ultimately, why should we fear her if we haven’t done anything to her? Just think of it as what would happen if you anger god.” This was my grandmother’s answer to me. The reference to god and religion in the end meant that I should be going on my way and leave her to do her chores. While this reply didn’t really satisfy me at that age as I was still stuck on the violence and I had heard other people tell me about how I should stay away from certain places because the Yakshi would do something bad to me, I knew better than to say anything. With this, I stopped going to the abandoned compound on my own and would only go with others. During those times, I never saw her there so I assumed she was probably a figment of my imagination.
It was only years later, as a teenager who had fully gotten into feminism that I understood the full weight of my grandmother’s words about the Yakshi. I went into a train of thought, one boring afternoon when I realized that Yakshis weren’t the villainesses of their stories. They were the tragic protagonists who were made into monsters by those around them aka the actual villains of the story. With this thought, I reminisced about my encounter with the Yakshi I saw in my childhood play area and mused about how things would be different if I were to meet her right now. Almost as if reading my mind, my parents announced that we were going to my grandmother’s place after two days. Excited, I got to work, planning what I was going to do and what I would talk to her about when I met her. The two days flew by in a jiffy and I was finally in my grandmother’s house, this time as a cynical 17-year-old who was going to leave home for university the next month. After resting and recovering from the long drive from my house for a day, I decided to venture out to the abandoned compound the next evening under the pretext of a walk because I knew my grandmother would not allow me to go there alone as “Bachelor men have moved into the house near that compound. They could do things to you”. Anyway, coming back to the present, I saw her. In the same spot where I saw her as a child and looking the same too. I smiled at her and walked towards her while maintaining a respectful distance.
She smiled back at me like any other grown-up would to a child they have seen growing up in their eyes. “Aren’t you running away this time?”, she asked in a playful tone. “No.”, I answered, my voice not hiding my anxiety. “It seems you’re not scared of me. Do you know who I am?”, she asked. “You are a Yakshi. The adults have told me about you.”, I answer, kind of surprised that she could distinguish my anxiety of dealing with new situations from a fear of her. “Well then, why aren’t you running away? Shouldn’t you be listening to your elders and staying out of trouble?”, she adds, while retaining that playful tone but I could sense a feeling of relief and melancholy in that. I tell her, “When I first told my grandmother that I saw you, she told me why and how you came to be and that she gets you. It took me some time to understand what she meant, but after I learned things on my own, I understood what she meant”. The Yakshi was caught off-guard by what I just said and just looked at me speechless (and shocked, even). I saw a change in her eyes- the pride that was strong in our first conversation softened- almost like a softer pride. “So people do get it. I did not think they would, as the men told everyone that I was a bloodthirsty monster and people believed them because it was the powerful men who propounded this and powerful men are treated like gods in this godforsaken society”, she said while I nodded along because I agreed with her. “You know, in my 100 years of existence in this form, I have seen how this place and its people changed. I thought my situation would change too. But no, people couldn’t be arsed to change or even think otherwise about something that has been drilled into their heads for years because those beliefs are too comfortable for them to question. I saw people including women get educated like the Westerners and do new kinds of jobs but when it came to me, all they could think about doing to me was try to imprison me to this tree with a pointless ritual”, she continued. “Wait! Imprison you to this tree?”, I asked her out of genuine bewilderment. “Yes”, she laughed. “They said a bunch of prayers and thought that I would trapped here forever. They were so wrong about it”. “I am guessing they are men”, I add with a chuckle because I was too amused at this point. She said, “Well yes. Only they would think that I, a woman who was looking for revenge, could be subdued by a few hymns. I tried letting them know that they were unsuccessful but it didn’t work out”. Curious to know what happened, I asked her to tell me what she tried to do. She told me that she started moving about in this place after dark but because different people saw her on different days and times, everyone assumed she was a different being. Both of us laughed at this. “What about the men who tried to subdue you?”, I asked her. “That man died years ago, much before you were born”, she replies nonchalantly. “Of what?”, I asked her again not wanting to miss out on any detail because my raging feminist self loved listening to things about agents of patriarchy getting destroyed, both metaphorically and literally. “You never know”, she says winking at me. Feeling strong and empowered for some reason, I shoot her a “You did well, girl” smile to which she smiles back at me. “You are the second person to appreciate my work”, she told me while tucking a strand of my hair into my ear just like women in my family would do to me as a comforting gesture. It was an oddly familiar sensation that was comforting. “Who was the first?” “I thought you knew that. Well, that is something that you should find out. Anyway, I think it’s time for you to go back. Your family is going to get worried”. Has it been that long? I wasn’t sure as I still riding on the high of talking to a Yakshi. “Can we meet again? I really liked talking to you. I wish we could just be friends”, I told her in a whiny tone. “We will meet again when the time is right. I enjoyed talking to you too. It’s nice to know that not all women are swayed by what the men have said. Now, off you go. I need some alone time too, after all I still have some of my human qualities”, she said while turning me and giving me a light push on my back. “One more thing”, I turned to tell her. “What is your name?”. To this, she laughed and then said with a mysterious smile. “You already know that as far as I know. Don’t worry though, you’ll remember it in good time. Now, go back home for real”. Wondering what she meant, I went back to my grandmother’s place as I didn’t want to hear a lecture on how I could have been bitten by a snake if I stepped in the wrong places, even though I wanted to tell her that I wasn’t a girl like she assumed.
That evening, one of my grandmother’s friends came over to visit us. Although I was meeting her for the first time, there was something oddly familiar about her. While she and my grandmother were chatting and reminiscing about the old days, I was made to sit there and listen to their conversations as my grandmother’s friend insisted that I be there- it seemed as though she had taken a liking to me which I thought was odd, considering the fact that I was the antithesis of the “ideal” teenage “girl” for people from my grandmother’s generation. She then proceeded to show me some old pictures of her and my grandmother from their younger days. In one of the pictures, I recognized the “Settu-Mundu” she was wearing and I had a realization- it was the same as the one the Yakshi was wearing. When I looked up at her, trying to hide my “deja vu”, my grandmother’s friend just winked at me and continued chatting with my grandmother. I should have asked her what her story was before leaving.
- Onam is a festival that celebrates the new harvest after rains. It is celebrated in the state of Kerala in the Southern part of India
- “Settu-Mundu” is a type of clothing worn mostly by women from Kerala. It consists of two types of unstitched cloth that are usually worn together. The “mundu” is the longer one of the two that is worn around the waist. The other piece of cloth is called the “neriyathu” and is worn on the upper body, originally meant to cover the torso and the chest.