Spilling oil or turmeric at the threshold is considered unlucky

[Scene: A warm afternoon in Madurai. Meena is angrily scrubbing the threshold of her house with Dettol. Ravi walks in with a tender coconut in each hand.]

Ravi:
(Grinning) Meena, I brought you your favorite—elaneer! Though I hope your house hasn’t turned into a crime scene. What’s with the intense scrubbing?

Meena:
(Frustrated) Oh Ravi! Don’t even get me started. That silly delivery boy spilled oil and turmeric right at my doorstep! Turmeric, Ravi! You know what that means!

Ravi:
Yes, it means your doorstep is now mildly antiseptic and slightly greasy. Honestly, I’d say it’s halfway to being a biryani preparation.

Meena:
(Serious tone) Don’t joke! Spilling oil or turmeric at the threshold is very unlucky. My grandmother used to say it invites financial troubles and arguments into the home. And guess what? My pressure cooker gasket burst right after. Coincidence? I think not.

Ravi:
Come on, Meena. Pressure cookers burst when the valve gets blocked, not because turmeric touched a tile. Next, you’ll tell me if a crow caws on your wall, you’ll expect an unexpected guest.

Meena:
(Eyes widening) That actually did happen last week! And my aunt showed up with three suitcases and no warning! How do you explain that, Mister Science?

Ravi:
Okay, I’ll give you that. Aunts have supernatural timing. But jokes aside—turmeric is antibacterial. It’s literally used in first aid. Why would something healing be considered a bad omen?

Meena:
It’s not the turmeric itself, it’s the act of spilling it at the threshold! That’s the boundary of the home. Spilling things there disrupts the energy balance. Our elders knew these things intuitively.

Ravi:
Or maybe our elders wanted to prevent wastage and came up with a spooky story so people would be careful carrying valuable stuff like oil and turmeric. Back in the day, those were expensive. Imagine someone tripping and spilling it all. “Aiyo! Bad luck!” sounds easier than “You’re clumsy and now we can’t cook dinner.”

Meena:
Hmm… I never thought of it like that. But even if it’s old-fashioned, isn’t there value in respecting traditions? It connects us to our roots.

Ravi:
Absolutely. Traditions can be beautiful. Like lighting lamps, celebrating Pongal, or kolams at the door. But we should draw a line between cultural pride and irrational fear. If your day is ruined because a teaspoon of oil took a wrong turn, then who’s really in control—you or the turmeric?

Meena:
(Chuckles despite herself) You have a point. But still, just in case, I’ll light a camphor lamp tonight. It doesn’t hurt to balance the vibes, right?

Ravi:
Sure, light the lamp. But also maybe fix your pressure cooker valve. You know, balance both the spiritual and mechanical energies.

Meena:
(Laughing) Fine! But if anything weird happens again, I’m calling a priest and you.

Ravi:
Deal. But I’m bringing turmeric rice next time—straight to the threshold!

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[They clink their coconut shells and laugh, walking inside, still arguing gently about crows and camphor.]