<p>My father, fondly known as the ‘Man from the wilderness,‘ along with my ophiophilist (snake lover) son, have repeatedly used their charm and knowledge to trick me into their world... but in vain.</p>.<p>I am unsure why I have herpetophobia (fear of reptiles); to be specific, it is ophidiophobia. Is it because I find them too creepy and crawly, or is it because I almost went over them a couple of times on my two-wheeler? Whatever the reason, they often disturb my dreams. My hatred and fear of snakes can be traced back to an incident that happened a couple of years ago at our farm.</p>.<p>My father, along with my husband and son, had set out into the denser part of our farm to instruct a carpenter working on a project. I followed them a couple of minutes later, walking on the same path with my heart racing as memories about snake sightings by my parents and farm workers filled my mind. I wondered how they managed to coexist with these creatures. </p>.<p>I also recalled a deep-seated Indian belief that snakes are said to seek revenge if harmed, with a remarkably long memory that lasts for 12 years.(haavina dwesha hanneradu varusha, as the popular song <br>goes in the Kannada movie, Nagarahaavu). Though this is a myth, my <br>fearful mind refused to see any logic as another incident from my childhood days surfaced.</p>.<p>My sister, when she was a little girl, would take great joy in entertaining guests by narrating a story of how a big snake had curled up in our shoe stand and had a siesta while her younger brother slept peacefully on a nearby mat. With all these thoughts, I finally reached the coffee plantation area. </p>.<p>Instead of my family greeting me, a cobra emerged from nowhere, blocking my path and my train of thought! With its hood up and its eyes locked with mine, I stood still, unable to find my voice. ‘Were my thoughts about snakes turning into reality, or was this just my imagination?’ As the reptile started moving towards its prey, I managed to squeak! Luckily, my father, who was a few metres away, heard my feeble cry for help. Within seconds, everyone rushed towards me only to see the snake’s tail vanishing under some dry leaves.</p>.<p>“Why did you scare away the poor creature?” my son yelled at me, unmindful of my fragile state. Though the snake’s exit was as quick as its entry, my body continued to remain in a state of shock and confusion. I had to be literally shaken out of my stupor.</p>.<p>Back in the farm house, I narrated the entire incident to my mother even as my limbs continued to tremble. Despite noticing my vulnerable state, all she said was: “You should have folded your hands and prayed to the Naga devate (god). Everyone is not as lucky as you to see a cobra with an open hood.”</p>.<p>I had nothing to say as I realised that it was me against a houseful of ophiophilists!</p>
<p>My father, fondly known as the ‘Man from the wilderness,‘ along with my ophiophilist (snake lover) son, have repeatedly used their charm and knowledge to trick me into their world... but in vain.</p>.<p>I am unsure why I have herpetophobia (fear of reptiles); to be specific, it is ophidiophobia. Is it because I find them too creepy and crawly, or is it because I almost went over them a couple of times on my two-wheeler? Whatever the reason, they often disturb my dreams. My hatred and fear of snakes can be traced back to an incident that happened a couple of years ago at our farm.</p>.<p>My father, along with my husband and son, had set out into the denser part of our farm to instruct a carpenter working on a project. I followed them a couple of minutes later, walking on the same path with my heart racing as memories about snake sightings by my parents and farm workers filled my mind. I wondered how they managed to coexist with these creatures. </p>.<p>I also recalled a deep-seated Indian belief that snakes are said to seek revenge if harmed, with a remarkably long memory that lasts for 12 years.(haavina dwesha hanneradu varusha, as the popular song <br>goes in the Kannada movie, Nagarahaavu). Though this is a myth, my <br>fearful mind refused to see any logic as another incident from my childhood days surfaced.</p>.<p>My sister, when she was a little girl, would take great joy in entertaining guests by narrating a story of how a big snake had curled up in our shoe stand and had a siesta while her younger brother slept peacefully on a nearby mat. With all these thoughts, I finally reached the coffee plantation area. </p>.<p>Instead of my family greeting me, a cobra emerged from nowhere, blocking my path and my train of thought! With its hood up and its eyes locked with mine, I stood still, unable to find my voice. ‘Were my thoughts about snakes turning into reality, or was this just my imagination?’ As the reptile started moving towards its prey, I managed to squeak! Luckily, my father, who was a few metres away, heard my feeble cry for help. Within seconds, everyone rushed towards me only to see the snake’s tail vanishing under some dry leaves.</p>.<p>“Why did you scare away the poor creature?” my son yelled at me, unmindful of my fragile state. Though the snake’s exit was as quick as its entry, my body continued to remain in a state of shock and confusion. I had to be literally shaken out of my stupor.</p>.<p>Back in the farm house, I narrated the entire incident to my mother even as my limbs continued to tremble. Despite noticing my vulnerable state, all she said was: “You should have folded your hands and prayed to the Naga devate (god). Everyone is not as lucky as you to see a cobra with an open hood.”</p>.<p>I had nothing to say as I realised that it was me against a houseful of ophiophilists!</p>
