Tag Archives: Superstition

Black Cat Bad Luck

Age: 51

Text:

Informant: “If a black cat crosses your path, that means like bad luck.”

Interviewer: Okay. Is there anything you can do to, like, undo it?

Informant: No. That’s bad luck. So I gotta, yeah, I don’t know. I gotta watch out for things. Yeah. Gotta be more careful. Maybe not. I don’t know. bungee jumping.

Interviewer: So there’s not like, something to like make the luck like fine.

Informant: No, we don’t, we don’t really have that at all. Like that you could do something about it.

Analysis:

This example of superstition, a belief-based form of folklore. It is widely known that a black cat crossing your path is bad luck, even when people don’t fully commit to believing it. Many superstitions come with a clear way to reverse the bad luck, taking it into your own hands and making it good. However, the informants cultural perspective believes that bad luck is not something than can be reversed or controlled. Instead, it is accepted as something that simple “is,” reflecting a more fatalist approach to superstition.

This belief emphasizes acceptance over intervention, with the informant even mentioning to watch your actions after and be more careful. This response to be more cautious shows how similar superstitions can functions differently across cultures even when the core belief is shared.

This example connects to the broader idea that folklore operates within a shared cultural logic and helps people connect to a folk group and other values. The superstition does not require proof or an explanation. Its truth comes from being widely accepted and in this case, the absence of a “fix” becomes part of the tradition itself. This reinforces a worldview in which certain outcomes are unavoidable.

This example demonstrates how across cultures and spaces stories and beliefs can adapt and change. Folklore is not just about the content but the belief and importantly the response. Different cultures respond to uncertainty and misfortune differently, shaping behavior through shared assumptions about luck and control over the events in life.

The Sage of Room 108

Age: 50

Text (The Story): TT (my mother) told me a story from her college days in India about a particular dorm room, Room 108, which students treated almost like a sacred site.

Years before she arrived on campus, an older student, known simply as “the Sage of 108”, had lived in that very room. No​‍​‌‍​‍‌​‍​‌‍​‍‌ one was able to recall his original name. It was said that he was a very quiet, withdrawn, and even reclusive a philosophy scholar, who was so much absorbed in his meditation that he almost never spoke, hardly ate, and didn’t seem very attracted to the usual college life.

According to one version of the myth, he arrived at jivanmukti which is the freedom of the spirit during life. Another one suggested that he was able to foresee things way before time: a professor’s sudden resignation, a student’s family emergency, or even an exam question weeks before it was written. 

It was whispered that he could be none other than the very Dattatreya, the Hindu god who is the wandering teacher. Dattatreya is a character who is said to go about the world very quietly, and be there when you least expect it, in different guises, to help people. Stories on the campus, however, say that the person living in Room 108 and carrying the same vibe as Dattatreya. He was detached, loving, and very much aware without being told. 

During the last days of his final year, the Sage just went off the campus without informing anyone of his intention. He left hauling with him a single cloth sack one morning and walked out through the college gate. When someone came to his room a few hours later, they found it empty with the exception of a piece of cloth neatly folded on the ​‍​‌‍​‍‌​‍​‌‍​‍‌desk.

After that, strange things were reported. Students claimed the room smelled faintly of incense even when no one entered. One girl told TT that she stepped inside room 108 and felt a pressure, a kind of overwhelming stillness that made her leave immediately.

The administration eventually sealed Room 108. They gave practical explanations such as “structural damage” and “student safety”, but none of the students believed that. Everyone knew the real reason: the room was too spiritually charged. Too many people reported intense emotions inside it. Too many believed the Sage had left something behind.

When TT attended college, students had already begun a tradition:

Before any major exam, they would slip into the hallway, fold their hands, and offer a quick prayer outside the locked door of Room 108.

Some just tapped the door frame.

Some left flowers or pens on the ground.

Some whispered the Sage’s name, though no one could agree on what it was.

TT herself admitted that before her final board exams, she walked there with a group of friends in the early morning. They didn’t really know what they were praying for, whether it was luck, calmness, clarity, or perhaps the presence of someone who achieved spiritual awakening.

She​‍​‌‍​‍‌​‍​‌‍​‍‌ mentioned that the corridor outside 108 had this weirdly quiet vibe all the time, like the sounds were muffled. When she and her schoolmates meet for reunions, there is always a person who talks about “the Sage of 108,” and all the others acknowledge it by a nod as if it were a shared ​‍​‌‍​‍‌​‍​‌‍​‍‌secret.

Context: TT told me this story while reminiscing about her college years in India. This memorate is typically shared among alumni, usually during nostalgic conversations about exams, early adulthood, or campus myths.

The setting, an Indian university, makes belief in holy men, gurus, reincarnation, and spiritual presence feel normal rather than supernatural. Indian campuses often blend secular life with sacred spaces, and Room 108 became one such hybrid: part dorm room, part shrine, part student ritual.

This story also fits a larger South Asian cultural context where certain numbers (such as 108, a sacred number in Hinduism and Buddhism) carry deep spiritual significance.

The Teller’s Thoughts: TT treats the story with a mix of nostalgia and respect. She doesn’t necessarily claim the Sage was literally an incarnation of Dattatreya, but she believes he had a spiritual depth that left an imprint on the campus. She describes Room 108 as a place students approached with sincerity, not fear and something in between superstition and faith.

She said, “We all felt calmer after praying there. Maybe that’s all that mattered.”

My Thoughts (Analysis): This memorate blends campus legend, reincarnation belief, and folk religion into a single story.

This story functions as a sacred space on a secular campus, a rite of passage before exams, and a blending of Hindu spiritual motifs with student life. The association with Dattatreya deepens the story’s symbolic power. Dattatreya is the wandering divine teacher who appears in humble forms, and the idea that a spiritually advanced figure might quietly live in a college dorm room fits this motif perfectly.

The closure of Room 108, the lingering incense scent, and the informal prayer ritual all add to the all add to the mysterious atmosphere that made Room 108 feel like more than just a dorm room.. The story also shows how students use legend to navigate stress and this transforms anxiety about exams into a communal ritual that is rooted in cultural spirituality.

Personally, I think the story beautifully captures how folklore forms in modern environments. A single individual, remembered only in fragments, becomes a symbol of calm, wisdom, and hope for generations of students who never met him.

Sole of the shoe facing up, disrespecting God

Age: 21

Text:

“If you have sandals and you put the sandals on the ground upside down, its a bad thing. It means you are disrespecting God. This is for any shoes, it’s disrespect. I learned this when I was little. I don’t care anymore, but some people believe that.”

Context:

The informant learned this in childhood, and said it is a very common belief, and attributed it to the Muslim majority in Turkey.

Analysis: 

In Islamic countries (and Muslim-majority Turkey) shoes are considered dirty because they touch the ground which is unclean. To turn the bottom of your sandal or shoe upwards, towards God, is to show him disrespect. The informant no longer cares, demonstrating secularization, but there is belief negotiation – they respect that others, many not Muslim, abide by it. 

Obanje Child

Story:

PA: “Ah, my child, in the old days, people feared the Ogbanje. These were children who came from the spirit world, but they were never meant to stay. A mother would give birth, love the child, care for them, and just when she thought they would grow strong, eh, just like that, the child would fall sick and die. But it wouldn’t end there, no. That same mother would take in again, and when she gave birth, the baby would look the same, act the same, even carry the same stubborn ways.

People knew what was happening. It was the same child coming back to torment the family, to bring sorrow again and again. That is why they would go to the dibia, the healer, to find a way to stop it. Sometimes, they would cut a mark on the child’s body small, small scars, so that if they died and returned, they would see the mark and know they had been caught. Other times, the dibia would search for the child’s Iyi-uwa, a secret thing the Ogbanje hides in the earth, tying them to the spirit world. If they found it and destroyed it, ah, the child could stay. They would become like any other child, no more running away.”

Context:

The informant is an Igbo elder who grew up hearing about Ogbanje children from their own elders and witnessed how deeply people believed in them. They first heard about it as a child from older relatives and saw families who lost children seek out traditional healers for help.

My Interpretation:

The Ogbanje story is a really interesting way that Igbo people explained something as painful as losing a child. Instead of seeing it as just bad luck or illness, they believed some children were spirits that came and went, causing grief for their families. The idea of marking the child or finding their Iyi-uwa was a way to stop the cycle and make sure the child stayed.

Even today, some people still believe in Ogbanje, or at least know someone who does. It shows how strong traditional beliefs can be, even when times change. Whether or not someone believes in spirits, this story makes it clear how much families struggled with repeated child loss and how they tried to find ways to protect their children.

Snow Traditions 2

Nationality: American
Age: 14
Occupation: High School Student
Residence: Morris Plains, NJ, USA
Language: English

These were local rituals done to bring about a snow day. Kids would pressure each other to do them before bed, hoping the more people who did them, the more likely it would be that a snowstorm came. 

“I remember when we first turned our pjs inside out before bed. [J](his brother) told me about it for the first time. We turned our pjs inside out, flushed ice cubes down the toilet, and put a spoon under our pillows. All of these done with a lot of people hopefully would bring more snow to town. I remember telling a big group of friends they had to send pictures of their inside-out PJs and spoons under pillows to their moms to send to my mom.” 

This ritual doesn’t have a designated time besides whenever a kid can’t take another day of school. These rituals are passed between friends mainly in cold communities. The peer pressure to participate is very interesting because it shows the heavy belief these kids take in turning pajamas inside out or putting a spoon under their pillow. Kids are very superstitious before they learn how the world works scientifically. Most people grow out of these superstitions after they learn about precipitation.