Bhaim Or Najar

[Amrikingh]

ok you already probably heard of the term, when a person makes a mistake or something geos wrong with them..... then that person will blame someone else

like sneezing before going out da door, once you sneezed you cant go out, wtf?!lol

they belieave somethingh will bad happen to you

other one, when someone mentions what how tall you are " ohh gosh hes big" , then that tall person belieaves he want grow much now, lol.......or da parents will go angry

other one, when a baby is born and some is jealous of it, or says something to "najar" naal it

they carry out this ritualistic thing with chilli's they believe if you the chilli's have a sort of crackingling sound then baby will be clear from what people have said and it will become better ( from its illness) , LOL

another one, when you burn toof, why throw it in a river? why not put it in the bin

what is all this?

its within sikh, muslim and hindu families

[Pheena]

Superstitions, started by few to which it has happened.

Say if a black cat crosses my path and i keep on going and i get into a wreck, I am then reassured that it was the black cat that caused this. So i tell you that this happened, and you tell soemoen else. So it has become a superstition that whenever a black cat crosses your path turn around.

It all depends on you, if you believe them, then they can become truthfull to you, if you don't then they are nothing more than random occurence with no meaning.

If you become involved in such things, it becomes so very difficult to live you life as you are always looking for a meaning to every little occurence that happens to you. You begin to imagine stuff that "What IF". I became such a person when i was 13 or so, trust me it was a very hard habit to get rid of.

Whatever is meant to be will Be regardless of a black cat crossing your path, or someone sneezing before you leave.

[Amrikingh]

Pheena, where did this all originate from?

[Pheena]

hard to say, but most likely out of confusion and fear. They once held a purpose.

The word 'superstition' comes from a root which means: something that was useful sometimes but the circumstances have now changed, it is no longer useful. But it continues.

So at one point, there was a event that had occured, which had some meaning, but that superstition is still being carried on century after century in a dead like state, out of fear.

Here are 2 stories that help put superstitions into prespective.

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But superstitions….

You go for a morning walk and you meet a man with only one eye—finished, your whole day is finished. Now nothing can be right. Strange…what does that poor fellow have to do with your whole day?

But a superstition, centuries old….

I had a small boy in my neighborhood with only one eye. Whomsoever I wanted to torture…early in the morning I would take the boy and just give him chocolates, and he was ready. I would watch from far away: "You just stand in front of the door. Let the fool open the door…. " And the moment he would open the door and see the one-eyed boy, he would say, "My God! Again? But why do you come here in the morning?"

One day he became so angry that he wanted to beat him. I had to come from my hiding place, and I said, "You cannot beat him. It is a public road, and it is his right to stand here every morning. We used to come once in a while; now we will come every day. It is up to you to open your door or not to open your door."

He said, "But if I don't open my door, how will I go to my shop?"

I said, "That is your problem, not our problem. But this boy is going to stand here."

He said, "This is strange. But why this boy…? Can't you take him to somebody else? Just…my neighbor is a competitor in my business, and I am getting defeated continually because of this boy."

I said, "It is up to you. Baksheesh!—if you give one rupee to this boy, he will stand at the other gate."

He said, "One rupee?" In those days one rupee was very valuable, but he said, "I will give."

I said, "Remember, if the other man gives two rupees, then this boy will still be standing here. It is a sheer question of business."

He said, "I am going to report to the police. I can…. "

I said, "You can go. Even the police inspector is afraid of this boy. You can get him to write the report, but he will not call him into his office. Everybody is afraid—even the teachers are afraid. And this boy is so precious…so whoever creates any trouble in the city, I take this boy. Nothing has to be done—he simply stands there in front of the door."

Problems are all around you. So even if you somehow get finished with one problem, another problem arises. And you cannot prevent problems arising. Problems will continue to arise till you come to a deep understanding of witnessing. That is the only golden key, discovered by centuries of inward search in the East: that there is no need to solve any problem. You simply observe it, and the very observation isenough; the problem evaporates. spirit06

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My mother was just telling me yesterday…that when I was five months old in her womb, a miracle happened. She was going from my father's house to her father's house; and it was the rainy season. It is customary

in India for the first child to be born at the maternal father's home, so although it was the rainy season and very difficult—no roads, and she had to go on a horse—the sooner she went, the better; if she waited longer then it would have become more difficult, so she went with one of her cousin-brothers.

In the middle of the journey was a big river, the Narmada. It was in flood. When they reached the boat, the boatman saw that my mother was pregnant, and he asked my mother's cousin-brother, "What is your

relationship?"

He was not aware that he would get into trouble so he simply said, "We are brother and sister."

The boatman refused; he said, "I cannot take you because your sister is pregnant—that means you are not two, you are three."

In India, this is a custom, an old custom—perhaps it started in the days of Krishna—that one should not travel on water, particularly in a boat, with one's sister's son. There is a danger of the boat sinking. The boatman said, "What guarantee is there that the child in your sister's womb is a girl and not a boy? If he is a boy I don't want to take the risk—because it is not a question only of my life, sixty other people are going in the boat. Either you can come or your sister can come; both I won't take."

On both sides there were hills and jungle, and the boat used to go only one time a day. In the morning it would go—and the river is really vast at that point—and then it would come back by the evening. The next morning it would go again, the same boat. So either my mother had to remain on this side, which was dangerous, or go on that side, which was just as dangerous. So for three days they continued to ask him, beg him, saying that she was pregnant and he should be kind.

He said, "I can't help it—this is not done. If you can give me a guarantee that it is not a boy then I can take you; but how can you give me a guarantee?"

So for three days they had to stay in a temple there. In that temple lived a saint, very famous in those days in that area. Now, around that temple there has arisen a city in the memory of that saint, Saikheda. Saikheda means "the village of the saint." Sai means the saint; he was known as Sai Baba. It is not the same Sai Baba who became world-famous—Sai Baba of Shirdi—but they were contemporaries….

Finally my mother had to ask Sai Baba, "Can you do something? For three days we have been here. I am pregnant and my brother has told the boatman that he is my brother, and he won't take us in the boat.

Now, unless you do something, say something to that boatman, we are in a fix. What to do? My brother cannot leave me here alone; I cannot go alone to the other side. On both sides are wild jungles and forests, and for at least twenty-four hours I will have to wait alone."

I never met Sai Baba, but in a way I did meet him; I was five months old. He just touched my mother's belly. My mother said, "What are your doing?"

He said, "I am touching the feet of your child." The boatman saw this and said, "What are you doing, Baba? You have never touched anybody's feet."

And Baba said, "This is not anybody; and you are a fool—you should take them to the other side. Don't be worried. The soul that is within this womb is capable of saving thousands of people, so don't be worried about your sixty people—take her."

So my mother was saying, "At that time I became aware that I was carrying someone special."

I said, "As far as I understand, Sai Baba was a wise man: he really befooled the boatman! There is no miracle, there is nothing. And boats don't sink just because somebody is traveling with their sister's son.

There is no rationality in the idea, it is just absurd. Perhaps sometime accidentally it may have happened and then it became a routine idea."

My own understanding is that because in Krishna's life his mother's brother was told by the astrologers that "one of the children of your sister will kill you," he kept his sister and his brother-in-law in prison. She gave birth to seven children, seven boys, and he killed them all. The eighth was Krishna, and of course when God Himself was born, the locks of the prison opened up, and the guards fell fast asleep, and Krishna's father took him out. The river Yamuna was the boundary of Kansa's kingdom. Kansa was the person who was killing his sister's sons in the fear that one of the sons was going to kill him.

The Yamuna was in flood—and it is one of the biggest rivers in India. The father of Krishna was very much afraid, but somehow the child had to be taken to the other side, to a friend's house whose wife had given birth to a girl so he could exchange them. He could bring the girl back with him because the next morning Kansa would be there asking, "Where is the child?" and planning to kill him. A girl he wouldn't kill—it had to be a boy.

But how to cross this river? There was no boat in the night, but it had to be crossed. But when God can open locks without keys, without anybody opening them—they simply opened up, the doors opened up, the guards fell asleep—God would do something. So he put the child in a bucket on his head and passed through the river—something like what happened

to Moses when the ocean parted.

This time it happened in an Indian way. It could not have happened to Moses because that ocean was not Indian, but this river was.

As he entered the river, the river started rising higher. He was very much afraid: what was happening? He was hoping the river would subside, but it started rising. It went to the point where it touched the feet of Krishna, then it receded. This is the Indian way, it cannot happen anywhere else. How can the river miss such a point? When God is born and passing through her, just giving way is not enough, not mannerly.

Since that time there has been this idea that there is a certain antagonism between a person and his sister's son, because Krishna killed Kansa. The river was crossed, it subsided; it favored the child. Since then rivers are angry against maternal uncles—all the rivers of India. And that uperstition is carried even today.