Note: It’s Friday the 13th so I thought it made sense to share this issue about Friday the 13th on Friday the 13th. Happy Friday the 13th!
If, like me, you’d grown up believing ‘Paraskevidekatriaphobia’ meant fear of Paras Kedia, the lunch-thief from school who would appear at the first ting of the recess bell and snatch your tiffin-box with a swiftness belying his burly frame, well, you were wrong. Apparently, it means fear of Fridays that fall on the 13th of a month, the infamous ‘Friday the 13th’. (Fear of ‘Friday the 13th’ has another name: Friggatriskaidekaphobia. Perhaps people found Paraskevidekatriaphobia too difficult to pronounce and decided to coin an easier alternative.)
While conducting extensive research into the origins of the fear surrounding ‘Friday the 13th’, I came across the following story in an article in the National Geographic:
Friday the 13th superstitions are rooted in ancient bad-luck associations with the number 13 and the day Friday, said Donald Dossey, a folklore historian and author of Holiday Folklore, Phobias and Fun.
Dossey traces the fear of the number 13—aka, triskaidekaphobia—to a Norse myth about 12 gods having a dinner party at Valhalla, Norse mythology's heaven. In walked the uninvited 13th guest, the mischievous god Loki. Once there, Loki arranged for Hoder, the blind god of darkness, to shoot Balder the Beautiful, the god of joy and gladness, with a mistletoe-tipped arrow.
"Balder died, and the whole Earth got dark. The whole Earth mourned. It was a bad, unlucky day," Dossey said.
I don’t know about you but for me, a ‘bad, unlucky day’ is when I spill coffee on my shirt. If the god of joy and gladness is murdered by the guy who (inexplicably) dated Taylor Swift1, plunging our world into darkness and eternal grief, that is a great deal worse than just a ‘bad, unlucky day’ in my book. Not so for Donald Dossey, it seems. Clearly, he is a guy whom you cannot rattle easily.
I was also a little surprised to discover that historically Friday was widely considered to be a day of misfortune. Capitalism and five-day-work-weeks may have elevated Friday to the vaunted position it holds today, but it has a chequered past. It was the standard day for crucifixions in Rome (including, the crucifixion of one Jesus Christ). Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit on a Friday, and it was on a Friday that Cain murdered his brother, Abel. Friday was also the day chosen for executions and was, in medieval times, known as ‘hangman’s day’. Puts a completely different spin on The Cure’s proclamation of ‘Friday, I’m in love’, doesn’t it?
So the number 13 and Friday have been separately despised for centuries, but the demonising of ‘Friday the 13th’ is a more recent phenomenon. The dread associated with ‘Friday the 13th’ is popularly attributed to an early twentieth-century novel, titled (no prizes for guessing) Friday the Thirteenth, about a stockbroker who manipulates the market on (you know where this going, don’t you?) Friday the 13th. The superstition birthed by the novel was soon echoed in newspaper headlines and slowly became a part of modern folklore. In the 1980s, it formed the basis of a wildly popular Hollywood movie franchise and is now (thanks to the disproportionately large influence of Western culture) a globally recognized event.
To be honest, ‘Friday the 13th’ did not hold any relevance in my life when I was growing up. Perhaps it was still too American, too alien a superstition back then. Besides, we had enough of our own local superstitions to worry about: the black cat crossing the road, the spotting of solitary starlings2 (shaalik paakhi, in Bengali), the sneezing just before leaving the house, the calling someone from behind, and so on. I became aware of the mythology around the day when I was in college, and even then it had no significance for me. It was only once I was a few years into my law firm career that ‘Friday the 13th’ became a notable day; ironically, in an entirely wholesome and delightful manner. My friend and ex-colleague, Garima, would create amazing horror-themed, post-it-art pieces to commemorate the day and these would then adorn our workstations.
I have been asked to clarify that “this particular piece is not representative of the high quality of art Garima produced and is one of her earlier works before she mastered the style”. (Personally, I think it’s quite nice). It also happens to be one of the pieces I could preserve when I was cleaning my desk on my last day.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that because of these posit-it-art pieces I have begun to associate ‘Friday the 13th’ with friendship, camaraderie and late-night quibbling about late-night work. I’d never bought into the superstition surrounding the date, but out of that superstition, we were able to create something memorable, something which has endured. It’s easier said than done, of course, but perhaps life would be more pleasant if we could create our own experiences, our own memories to replace the fear and the superstitions associated with so many things we see around us. Until then, you can borrow the post-it-art idea if you want.
In a delightful coincidence, Taylor Swift supposedly considered the number ‘13’ to be lucky.
This one ruled my life for years. In fact, I can’t claim to have gotten over it yet. We will discuss it one day, when I am ready.
Why you make me cry ❤️