<p>It was 1993, and my husband, then a major in the Indian Army, was posted at a field station. In Army parlance, a 'field' is an operational area. Families were permitted to stay for short durations. We did not have enough accommodations and lived in temporary ones. Here, the senior officers were given a full-fledged house, and the junior officers had to make do with the two-room accommodation at the Officers’ Mess. We were not entitled to the' luxuries' that one was accustomed to at peace stations.</p>.<p>None the less, we all learned to live comfortably and happily with our extended family. Learning a new skill, babysitting, sharing housekeeping tricks and home remedies, and not forgetting the gyaan from seniors kept us occupied in the otherwise barren area, away from the hustle and bustle of city life. Some of the ladies were like walking wikipedias of the 1990s; they were so knowledgeable.</p>.Slaying the stress monster.<p>My daughter and I were staying at my good friend Mrs Singh's house as my husband was deployed to a faraway training area. There was nothing unusual about the routine of a typical army officer’s wife—a weekly visit to the temple and meeting other women. And as the days grew into nights, we would tuck our children in and retire for the night. That's how the days usually end.</p>.<p>Not on that day. It must have been past 11 pm when I was awakened by the sound of window panes rattling. I groggily looked around, and the bright moonlight reflected off the surface of the wildly swaying naked bulb. I stared at the bulb for a while, imagining it to be a nightmare. I quickly shut my eyes, hoping the swaying would stop. I opened my eyes warily and saw that the swaying hadn’t stopped.</p>.<p>I felt like I saw shadows moving around, and just then the bed started shaking, and a low rumbling noise followed. I pulled my daughter, who was fast asleep, closer to me, waiting for the fanged monster to leap out from under the bed. There was yet another jolt from under the cot, and suddenly everything went still. Fearing paranormal activity, what followed was a long, agonising wait for the unknown to turn up. I was sweating profusely and sat still for what felt like an hour, too afraid to move; any movement might awaken the beast under my cot. It felt like a horror movie.</p>.<p>Fearing the unknown, I prayed for the known. Just as I ran out of all the names of the Hindu gods, I heard a knock at the door, and Mrs Singh's feeble voice wafted in, "I hope you are fine. I hope you know that we just experienced an earthquake. It lasted only a minute." I thought an eternity had passed.</p>.<p>Hailing from South India, I had not experienced our planet's quake. I let the demons and monsters out of my mind and slept peacefully.</p>
<p>It was 1993, and my husband, then a major in the Indian Army, was posted at a field station. In Army parlance, a 'field' is an operational area. Families were permitted to stay for short durations. We did not have enough accommodations and lived in temporary ones. Here, the senior officers were given a full-fledged house, and the junior officers had to make do with the two-room accommodation at the Officers’ Mess. We were not entitled to the' luxuries' that one was accustomed to at peace stations.</p>.<p>None the less, we all learned to live comfortably and happily with our extended family. Learning a new skill, babysitting, sharing housekeeping tricks and home remedies, and not forgetting the gyaan from seniors kept us occupied in the otherwise barren area, away from the hustle and bustle of city life. Some of the ladies were like walking wikipedias of the 1990s; they were so knowledgeable.</p>.Slaying the stress monster.<p>My daughter and I were staying at my good friend Mrs Singh's house as my husband was deployed to a faraway training area. There was nothing unusual about the routine of a typical army officer’s wife—a weekly visit to the temple and meeting other women. And as the days grew into nights, we would tuck our children in and retire for the night. That's how the days usually end.</p>.<p>Not on that day. It must have been past 11 pm when I was awakened by the sound of window panes rattling. I groggily looked around, and the bright moonlight reflected off the surface of the wildly swaying naked bulb. I stared at the bulb for a while, imagining it to be a nightmare. I quickly shut my eyes, hoping the swaying would stop. I opened my eyes warily and saw that the swaying hadn’t stopped.</p>.<p>I felt like I saw shadows moving around, and just then the bed started shaking, and a low rumbling noise followed. I pulled my daughter, who was fast asleep, closer to me, waiting for the fanged monster to leap out from under the bed. There was yet another jolt from under the cot, and suddenly everything went still. Fearing paranormal activity, what followed was a long, agonising wait for the unknown to turn up. I was sweating profusely and sat still for what felt like an hour, too afraid to move; any movement might awaken the beast under my cot. It felt like a horror movie.</p>.<p>Fearing the unknown, I prayed for the known. Just as I ran out of all the names of the Hindu gods, I heard a knock at the door, and Mrs Singh's feeble voice wafted in, "I hope you are fine. I hope you know that we just experienced an earthquake. It lasted only a minute." I thought an eternity had passed.</p>.<p>Hailing from South India, I had not experienced our planet's quake. I let the demons and monsters out of my mind and slept peacefully.</p>