Conversation with Ghosts.

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The Gate of Hell will be flung open this month and all manner of ghosts will descend to Earth. No weddings would be held in the Ghost Month and the Chinese will refrain from going out at night. Yet they will turn out in force to shows held by temples to appease the spirits. To gawk at sexy young girls in scrimpy dresses gyrating on purpose built wooden stage.

There used to be an air of respectability for such shows when opera singers trained by their ancestors from one generation to the next performed solemn acts of despairs. The painted faces and long sleeves in high pitched unintelligible renditions were no match for the advent of the broken voice exposed body parts. The spirits must be pleased for they did not object.

If I will to tell I can talk to ghosts, they would ask in all seriousness what they looked like. For in my culture, you are not mad if you can see ghosts. You are just “gifted”. And will be consulted. By learning or faking some rituals, you will be in demand, respected and can earn a decent living acting as a medium between man and ghosts.

But if I will to tell that my ghosts do not conform to the generally accepted notions of what ghosts look and behave like. If I will to say I don’t see hungry ghosts, vengeful ghosts out to right a wrong, vicious ghosts whose sole purpose is to harm the living, female ghosts that floats with long hair in long white gown or cheongsam red out for revenge, ghouls in the employ of those practicing the black arts and demons of all descriptions, always horrid and blurry. If I don’t see their dead relatives. If I will to say my ghosts just appear to have a quiet conversation without speaking, then they will know I am mad.

So I tell no one.

If I am mad, I rather keep it to myself. If I do not behave according to their generally accepted notions of how a madman behave, then to them I am not one. So I tell no one about my conversations with ghosts.

To be continued...