My brothers had many nicknames for me. Most of them were a commentary on my flaws. One nickname was “pukkeli” (coward in Tulu) which referred to my fear of everything. I was scared of the dark, dogs, water, heights, insects and exams.

When my parents shut the lights at night, I would quickly close my eyes and cover my head with my green blanket. I would open my eyes only when my whole body was inside the safety of my blanket, assured that nothing monstrous could reach me now. My fear of the dark expanded to my fear of ‘a presence’ thanks to Stephen King’s ‘The Shining’. I remember reading the book while lying in bed and staring at the door of the bedroom every few minutes just to make sure nobody was watching me.

Once, as punishment for being a younger sibling of two older brothers, they made me watch ‘The Exorcist’ when my mother was not at home. I couldn’t be in any room alone for weeks after, even during the day. My maternal grandmother would have stories of monsters who picked mangoes with her at 4.30 am or of ghosts who sat in coconut trees. Of ancestors who didn’t like if you walked in the afternoon sun in the forest. When in Mangalore, I made sure to never look out the window of my home into the pitch dark. In case something stared back.

Not only was I scared of the supernatural, but of the natural too. Especially lizards. The idea that these creatures on the walls could malfunction and fall really took up a lot of space in my brain. I was obsessed with making sure I was never under them. I would conduct a thorough inspection of every surface when I went to the bathroom. If I did find a lizard, I would make my mom or dad remove it from sight. My mom would shoo it behind the geyser but it always peaked back at me, mid shower. Only my dad made sure to put it out the window.

In 2020, as the covid lockdowns opened, I travelled back home and lived with my parents in humid Mangalore. My fear had evolved over the years. I was a different kind of coward now. A fear of not being good enough, of not being a good person, of not doing my best was taking hold of me. The whole time I was in Mangalore, I would be locked up in my room working all day, opening my door to be delivered meals and tea.

One morning, my mother suggested we take a walk since I had been cooped up for weeks. As I slipped on my shoe, I felt tiny feet crawling up my leg. I started screaming, jumping and hitting my thigh. A visceral fear took hold. After what felt like an eternity but was probably 3 seconds, I saw a massive garden lizard fall down my leg and scour to safety. The garden lizard had rolled up and slept in my shoe.