The Horrors of Halloween!

It was eight in the evening and I was getting ready to settle down in front of the television when the bell rang. Several times. Loud and insistent. Cursing under my breath, I ran to the front door and opened it. Count Dracula stood outside, scowling at me. 

He was probably around eight, dark circles under his beady eyes and red lipstick smeared all over his mouth. He held a Meena Bazaar plastic bag under his arm which he thrust at me, somewhat rudely.

 

‘Aunty, give me candy!’ It wasn’t a request, but an order.

 

‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ I asked him.

 

‘Forgetting what?’ Dracula Junior blinked at me. ‘It’s Halloween today. You are supposed to give me candy. Don’t you know that?’

 

I noticed that he was yelling but that didn’t bother me. The last part of his statement made me wince, however. The underlying assumption that I was expected to fall in line with his demand.

 

Now I know he was merely a child but something about his attitude had started grating on my nerves.

‘I know its Halloween and I will give you candy but aren’t you forgetting something?’ I asked him again.

 

He looked really angry now, eyes flashing. I could make out that he was used to getting his way at home. An image of an indulgent mother running to cater to every whim and fancy of his popped up in front of my eyes. I was sure the little fella would stamp his feet and have a hissy fit right in front of my door. Well, let him, I thought to myself, I do not like impudent children.

 

‘Before you ask anyone for candy, you are supposed to say, ‘Trick or Treat’ and wish them Happy Halloween. Don’t you know that?’ I told the little brat. It was really juvenile on my part but I’m sure you are not going to grudge me that. I couldn’t help but smile when I delivered the last part of my sentence.

 

The vampire shrugged. The expression on his face said that he was bored and couldn’t really care less. Could he have his candy now and leave?

 

I sighed and headed back to my kitchen. I didn’t have a lot of sweets lying around but there was a packet of Cadbury’s Eclairs left over from a birthday party. Grabbing a fistful of Eclairs, I walked back to where Dracula stood, fidgeting with his Meena Bazaar bag. ‘Here you go,’ I said, extending my arm to dump the sweets into his bag. He moved the bag away quickly staring at me as though I had morphed into a ghoul myself. 

 

‘Eclairs? Kya aap ke paas achhe candies nahi hai?’ the scorn in his voice was

unmistakeable.

 

I could have smacked him right then and there but I didn’t. My fingers were itching desperately. 

 

‘What do you mean by ache candies?’ I asked innocently.

 

‘Who on earth eats eclairs these days. Don’t you have Ferraro Rocher or Sour Punk, Aunty?’ 

 

Was that the hint of a smirk on the child’s face?

 

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. ‘No, I don’t,’ I said. ‘This is all I have, you will just have to take these.’

 

‘You could always give me money!’ That brazen little...!

 

I regained my composure and told him coldly, ‘I most certainly won’t give you money. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do. So please take these sweets or ring someone else’s doorbell if you like!’

 

That monster. He stormed off in a huff, his red cape flying around him. I’m quite sure I heard him abuse under his breath.

 

I slammed the door shut.

 

Over the years, Halloween in Gurgaon has become a frightening experience for me and it has nothing to do with witches and warlocks. I’m scared of the ill-mannered little children (read brats) who land up at my door demanding outrageous things. Foreign candy, money, the list goes on.

 

Gurgaon’s Halloween phenomenon is fairly recent though, the expat population having imported the spook fest to the city. What’s alarming is the gigantic proportions the festival has assumed in the last ten years or so. Everyone in the Millennium City celebrates Halloween these days. Kids dress up and go from door to door collecting candy.

 

It’s not just the children. The adults dress up and throw Halloween parties. You will find party shops all over Gurgaon stocking imported Halloween costumes and accessories to be bought at astronomical prices for these parties. I’ve been invited to a few myself but I’ve had to decline politely. Spending the evening dressed as Morticia Adams sipping a Bloody Mary is not exactly my idea of fun. The funny thing is, I’m quite sure if you quizzed these Halloween enthusiasts about the origins of the festival, they wouldn’t have a clue! Like most things in Gurgaon, this one is a fad too!

 

Growing up, the only exposure I had to Halloween was through comic books, story books, movies and the occasional postcard sent by a relative abroad with a picture of some kid dressed up as a ghoul holding a giant Jack o’ Lantern.

My daughter was invited to a birthday party on Halloween once. When all the guests had assembled at the birthday girl’s house, the mother had sent all the kids out to collect candy from the neighbours. The chocolates, sweets and chips that the kids got as loot was the food served at the party. If you can call that serving food. I was horrified when I heard the story, making a mental note never to send the girl for Halloween-themed birthday parties again!

 

I don’t think it’s a terribly good idea to send your kids to a stranger’s house asking for candy. It is asking for trouble, in my opinion. Renting out exorbitant costumes to dress children is also a no-no in my books. If you really must dress them, why not put some thought and let the kids create the costumes themselves?

 

Still, I’d be willing to tolerate it all if the children, in question, were better behaved and minded their Ps and Qs. I am not very good with entitled brats!

 

I had lousier luck for the rest of the evening. An assortment of ghosts, ghouls, vampires and witches came calling, asking for expensive candy and money. Some had maids in tow, lurking about furtively while the kids made the demands. These were all sorts of scary creatures, dressed in the finest of clothes. I could hear them laughing in the corridors outside. ‘I will drink your blood,’ one of them was threatening the other, rather dramatically in Hindi. ‘I’m a vampire, I will bite your flesh!’ Loud shrieks, squeals and howls echoed in the stairwell throughout the evening.

 

I’ve never been more frightened my whole life. What horrors are we unleashing onto the world, I wonder.

(excerpt from my book, Gurgaon Diaries: Life, Work and Play in Drona's Village)

Take a Lift!

The young woman pressed the elevator button repeatedly. As though she was transmitting a message via Morse Code to a secret recipient. I looked at her curiously. She was clearly in a hurry, Chanel sunglasses parked on top of her head, face immaculately made up, wearing a Zara dress that I’d seen on the store mannequin a week back. 

“The lift will come when it’s ready. It won’t hurry if you press the button several times,” the words had escaped from my mouth before I could stop them. She turned around and threw me a withering glare. 

“I know,” she replied, icicles dripping from her tongue.

Alittle boy and his mother walked into the lobby to stand beside us. They seemed to be waiting for the elusive lift which had stopped at the 14^thfloor for the longest time. Through the CCTV camera, I could see that a man was holding the lift door open as he kept poking his head out and yelling for someone to hurry up. I couldn’t hear what he was saying. But the head movements and the expression on his face were a dead giveaway.

As we waited in silence, the little boy kept running in circles around us. I looked at the mother hoping she would ask him to stop but she kept gazing at him adoringly. As though she could not believe her eyes. I was seeing double vision. The brat was making me dizzy. By the time the lift arrived, I was teetering unsteadily. The man who had kept the lift waiting walked out, throwing me a suspicious look as he passed. He probably thought I had consumed copious quantities of alcohol! Beside him was his elegantly dressed wife. Clearly, we had been waiting for her to get dressed.

The designer woman, mother and son nudged me roughly out of the way and got in. As though there was a prize for the one who got inside first. To my horror, a tall man with a bicycle appeared out of nowhere and headed into the lift. I narrowly missed getting trampled. Once he had manoeuvred his cycle inside the lift along with the woman, mother and son, I squeezed in with an apologetic look on my face. 

Now squeezing into anything, leave alone a lift, is a mammoth task for me as I am not tiny by any stretch of imagination. The little fellow had pressed all the buttons in the lift before his mother could say anything. I managed to slide in before the doors closed on me. The obnoxious brat then proceeded to play with all the buttons on the panel. I looked at the mother helplessly but she didn’t reprimand him. My fingers were itching to give him a tight slap.

Designer lady had whipped out her phone and was trying to take a selfie inside the lift. I gaped as she puckered and preened trying to get the perfect angle. Well, we had plenty of time. Thanks to the brat, the lift was going to stop at every effing floor!

Selfie done, designer lady got off first followed by annoying mother and son. Then it was just me and Lance Armstrong in the lift. I wished he would keep still but he kept moving his bike this way and that every couple of seconds. I almost got mowed down before I could leave the lift. I have painful wheel tracks on my legs if you'd care to have a look!

I have never been so angry in my life. Elevator etiquette should be taught in schools. Till then, I think I will take the stairs!