Inter caste marriages

Grandmother was pretending to be lost in prayer, but her prayer-beads
were spinning at top speed. That meant she was either excited or upset.
Mother put the receiver down. "Some American girl in his office, she's
coming to stay with us for a week." She sounded as if she had a deep
foreboding.

Father had no such doubt. He knew the worst was to come.
He had been matching horoscopes for a year, but my brother Vivek had
found a million excuses for not being able to visit India , call any of the
chosen Iyer girls, or in any other way advance father's cause.
Father always wore four parallel lines of sacred ash on his forehead.
Now there were eight, so deep were the furrows of worry on his forehead. I sat
in a corner, supposedly lost in a book, but furiously text-messaging my
brother with a vivid description of the scene before me.

A few days later I stood outside the airport with father. He tried
not to look directly at any American woman going past, and held up the card
reading "Barbara". Finally a large woman stepped out, waved wildly and
shouted "Hiiii! Mr. Aayyyezh, how ARE you?" Everyone turned and
looked at us. Father shrank visibly before my eyes. Barbara took three long
steps and covered father in a tight embrace. Father's jiggling out of it was
too funny to watch. I could hear him whispering "Shiva Shiva!". She
shouted "you must be Vijaantee?" "Yes, Vyjayanthi" I said with a smile. I
imagined little half-Indian children calling me "Vijaantee aunty!". Suddenly,
my colorless existence in Madurai had perked up. For at least the next
one week, life promised to be quite exciting.
Soon we were eating lunch at home. Barbara had changed into an even shorter
skirt. The low neckline of her blouse was just in line with father's eyes.
He was glaring at mother as if she had conjured up Barbara just to torture
him. Barbara was asking "You only have vegetarian food? Always??" as if
the idea was shocking to her. "You know what really goes well with Indian food,
especially chicken? Indian beer!" she said with a pleasant smile, seemingly
oblivious to the apoplexy of the gentleman in front of her, or the choking
sounds coming from mother. I had to quickly duck under the table to hide
my giggles.Everyone tried to get the facts without asking the one question on
all our minds: What was the exact nature of the relationship between Vivek
and Barbara?

She brought out a laptop computer. "I have some pictures of Vivek" she
said. All of us crowded around her. The first picture was quite innocuous.
Vivek was wearing shorts and standing alone on the beach. In the next
photo, he had Barbara draped all over him. She was wearing a skimpy bikini
and leaning across, with her hand lovingly circling his neck. Father got
up, and flicked the towel off his shoulder. It was a gesture we in the
family had learned to fear. He literally ran to the door and went out.
Barbara said "It must be hard for Mr. Aayyezh.
He must be missing his son." We didn't have the heart to tell her that if
said son had been within reach, father would have lovingly wrung his
neck.
My parents and grandmother apparently had reached an unspoken agreement.
They would deal with Vivek later. Right now Barbara was a foreigner, a
lone woman, and needed to be treated as an honored guest. It must be said
that Barbara didn't make that one bit easy. Soon mother wore a perpetual
frown.
Father looked as though he could use some of that famous Indian beer.
Vivek had said he would be in a conference in Guatemala all week, and would
be off both phone and email. But Barbara had long lovey-dovey
conversations with two other men, one man named Steve and another named Keith. The
rest of us strained to hear every interesting word. "I miss you!" she said
to both. She also kept talking with us about Vivek, and about the places
they'd visited together. She had pictures to prove it, too. It was all very
confusing.

This was the best play I'd watched in a long time. It was even better
than the day my cousin ran away with a Telugu Christian girl. My aunt had
come howling through the door, though I noticed that she made it to the
plushest sofa before falling in a faint. Father said that if it had been his
child, the door would have been forever shut in his face. Aunt promptly
revived and said "You'll know when it is your child!" How my aunt would
rejoice if she knew of Barbara!

On day five of her visit, the family awoke to the awful sound of
Barbara's retching. The bathroom door was shut, the water was running, but far
louder was the sound of Barbara crying and throwing up at the same time.
Mother and grandmother exchanged ominous glances. Barbara came out and her
face was red. "I don't know why", she said, "I feel queasy in the mornings
now." If she had seen as many Indian movies as I'd seen, she'd know why.
Mother was standing as if turned to stone. Was she supposed to react with
the compassion reserved for pregnant women? With the criticism reserved
for pregnant unmarried women? With the fear reserved for pregnant
unmarried foreign women who could embroil one's son in a paternity suit?
Mother, who navigated familiar flows of married life with the skill of a champion
oarsman, now seemed completely taken off her moorings.
She seemed to hope that if she didn't react it might all disappear
like a bad dream. I made a mental note to not leave home at all for the next
week.Whatever my parents would say to Vivek when they finally got a-hold
of him would be too interesting to miss. But they never got a chance. The
day Barbara was to leave, we got a terse email from Vivek. "Sorry, still
stuck in Guatemala . Just wanted to mention, another friend of mine, Sameera
Sheikh, needs a place to stay. She'll fly in from Hyderabad tomorrow
at 10am . Sorry for the trouble."

So there we were, father and I, with a board saying "Sameera". At
last a pretty young woman in salwar-khameez saw the board, gave the smallest
of smiles, and walked quietly towards us. When she did 'Namaste' to
father, I thought I saw his eyes mist up. She took my hand in the friendliest
way and said "Hello, Vyjayanthi, I've heard so much about you." I fell in
love with her. In the car father was unusually friendly. She and Vivek had been
in the same group of friends in Ohio University. She now worked as a
Child Psychologist.
She didn't seem to be too bad at family psychology either. She took
out a shawl for grandmother, a saree for mother and Hyderabadi bangles for
me." Just some small things. I have to meet a professor at Madurai University
and it's so nice of you to let me stay" she said. Everyone cheered
up. Even grandmother smiled. At lunch she said "This is so nice. When I make sambar,
it comes out like chole, and my chole tastes just like sambar".
Mother was smiling. "Oh just watch for 2 days, you'll pick it up." Grandmother
had never allowed a muslim to enter the kitchen.
But mother seemed to have taken charge, and decided she would bring
in who ever she felt was worthy. Sameera circumspectly stayed out of the
puja room, but on the third day, was stunned to see father inviting her in
and telling her which idols had come to him from his father. "God is one"
he said. Sameera nodded sagely.
By the fifth day, I could see the thought forming in the family's
collective brains. If this fellow had to choose his own bride, why
couldn't it be someone like Sameera? On the sixth day, when Vivek called from
the airport saying he had cut short his Guatemala trip and was on his way
home, all had a million things to discuss with him.
He arrived by taxi at a time when Sameera had gone to the University.
"So, how was Barbara's visit?" he asked blithely. "How do you know
her?" mother asked sternly. "She's my secretary" he said. "She works very
hard, and she'll do anything to help."
He turned and winked at me.

Oh, I got the plot now! By the time Sameera returned home that
evening, it was almost as if her joining the family was the elders' idea. "Don't
worry about anything", they said, "we'll talk with your parents."
On the wedding day a huge bouquet arrived from Barbara.
It said......

"Flight to India - $1500.
Indian kurta - $15.
Emetic to throw up - $1.
The look on your parents' faces - priceless" J

Speech by Chetan Bhagat at Symbiosis

Don’t just have career or academic goals. Set goals to give you a balanced, successful life.

I use the word balanced before successful. Balanced means ensuring your health, relationships, mental

peace, are all in good order.

There is no point of getting a promotion on the day of your breakup. There is no fun in driving a car if

your back hurts. Shopping is not enjoyable if your mind is full of tensions.

"Life is one of those races in nursery school where you have to run with a marble in a spoon kept in your

mouth. If the marble falls, there is no point coming first.

Same is with life where health and relationships are the marble. Your striving is only worth it if there is

harmony in your life. Else, you may achieve the success, but this spark, this feeling of being excited and

alive, will start to die.

One thing about nurturing the spark - don't take life seriously. Life isn’t meant to be taken seriously, as

we are really temporary here. We are like a pre-paid card with limited validity. If we are lucky, we may

last another 50 years. And 50 years is just 2,500 weekends.

Do we really need to get so worked up?

It's ok, bunk a few classes, scoring low in couple of papers, goof up a few interviews, take leave from

work, fall in love, little fights with your spouse. We are people, not programmed devices........."

“Don't be serious, be sincere”

Facts or Fictions???

The Well to Hell

While drilling the world's deepest hole in Siberia, the geologists noticed the drill bit began to rotate abnormally, among other strange happenings, when they reached a depth of ten miles. They measured temperatures up to 2000 degrees at the deepest part, and then lowered a microphone into the pit. After hearing the sounds of all the suffering souls in hell, they stopped the project in the hope that what is down there will stay down there.

The Vanishing Hotel Room

A young woman was traveling in a foreign country with her mother when the older woman became very ill. A doctor came to their room to examine her and told the daughter he'd need her to get some medicines from across town immediately, and that'd he'd stay with the patient. The daughter did as she was told. It was late in the evening when she finally made it back to the hotel through the crowded city, and to her surprise her room was locked. She went to the front desk to see why the doctor had left her mother, and the man at the front desk told her no one was staying in that room, and hadn't been for days. The young woman became more and more frantic and the clerk eventually took her to the room to inspect it. Inside she found that not only was her mother not there, the furnishings and decor were completely different than she remembered. She never saw her mother again.

The Staring Woman

A girl got on a train one night. She sat down opposite this woman, who was sat between two men. She wasn't too bothered about them, except the fact that the woman seemed to be staring at her, but she couldn't quite see because the woman had her hood up. At the next step, a man got on the train and sat next to the girl. After about five minutes the guy wispered to the girl, "Get off the next stop with me, it's important that you trust me." At the next stop the girl got off the train with the man and watched the train speed by. The man then turned to the girl and said "Thank God, I'm a doctor and that woman was dead, the two men beside her were holding her up."

The Scratching on the Roof

A young couple were parked under a tree on a dirt road one night. When the time came to go home, the car wouldn't start so the boy told the girl to lock the doors and he'd go for help. As time went by, the girl's nervousness about her situation grew worse, and by the time she started to hear a scraping noise on the top of the car she was terrified. The police found her the next day, as they took her away from the car they told her not to look back, but she did. Her boyfriend was hanging from a tree limb, his feet scraping the roof of the car.

The Roommate's Death

A young coed was lying in her room alone one night, her roommate had warned her she'd be out late. As she was about to fall asleep she heard a gurgling groan coming toward the room. Frightened, she jumped in the closet and locked the door. The sound came closer until it was obvious it was right outside the door, then whatever it was began to scratch on the door. It didn't stop for what seemed like a long time, and even after the trembling girl was afraid to move, and eventually fell asleep curled up in the closet. The next morning she opened the door to find her roommate lying dead, her throat cut and her fingers and nails bloody from scratching the door for help.

The Message Under the Stamp

During the war a soldier faithfully wrote his mother every week so she would know he was all right, until one week she didn't get a letter and immediately began to worry. Within a couple of weeks she got a letter from the Army saying that her son had been captured and was being held in a Prisoner-of-War camp, and they assured her that they had no reason to believe the American prisoners were being mistreated in any way. A few weeks later the woman finally received another letter from her son, it read: "Dear Mom, Try not to worry about me, they are treating us well and I'll be released as soon as the war is over. Make sure that little Teddy gets the stamp for his collection. Love you, Joe" The woman was overjoyed to hear the news, but was confused because she had no idea who "little Teddy" was. She decided to steam the stamp from the envelope and have a look. When she did she saw that written on the back of the stamp were the words: "They've cut off my legs".

The Concerned Mother

A man and wife were driving late one night when they were flagged down by a woman that appeared to be hurt. She claimed she'd been in an accident and her baby was alive but trapped in the car. The man told her to wait with his wife and he'd see what he could do. He got to the car and found a couple obviously dead in the front seat but a baby crying in a carseat. He cut the baby loose and returned to his own car. When he got there his wife was alone, he asked her where the woman had went and she replied that she'd followed him to the wreck. He left the baby with his wife and went back to the car to find her. When he got there he realized the woman who'd been instantly killed in the front seat had been the one who'd flagged him down.

The Chatroom

A young boy met a new friend in a chat room and began talking to him regularly, the friend was from out of state but would be in town in a couple weeks and they made plans to sneak out and meet. The boy began to feel odd about the arrangement and confessed the whole thing to his father. The father contacted the authorities and after a couple hours the chat was traced to a local prison, the prisoner who'd been using that computer was scheduled for release in two weeks.

Bride and Seek

During a wedding reception of a young couple the guests decided on a drunken game of hide and seek. It was decided that the groom was "it" and he eventually found everyone but his new bride. Eventually the man became furious and decided it wasn't funny anymore and left her there. As weeks went by he accepted that she'd had second thoughts and went on with her life so he did the same. A few years later a cleaning lady dusted off an old trunk in the attic of the building where the reception had taken place, out of curiosity she opened it. Inside the trunk was the rotted body of the missing bride who'd apparently became locked in the trunk she'd hid in. Whether she'd suffocated or starved was unknown, but her face was frozen in a scream.

Doordarshan Ki Aatmakatha

Kal Jahaan Basti Thi Khushiyaan, Aaj Hai Maatam Wahaan,

Waqt Laaya Tha Bahaarein, Waqt Laaya Hai Khizaan…

Namashkaar, Aadab, Sat Shri Akaal, Hello… My name is Doordarshan. Naam Toh Sunaa

Hoga… After a prolonged stoic silence, I have finally decided to vent my frustration in front of

all of you, the discerning public, who have grown up with me, and have subsequently discarded

me from your favour, just like you have forgotten about all those toys that you played with and

put it in the attic once you grew out of it, or maybe like the children of your maidservant who

were your playmates when you were young, but today are a source of embarrassment for you to

even recognize! Or maybe like an old acquaintance from whom you had taken a small loan

sometime back, but are now avoiding to recognize, just because it’s been too long now, although

you can pay him off quite easily.

I know I am not being politically correct here, but as I said earlier, I have decided to vent my

frustration to you all! Whether it makes any difference to you, I doubt, but let me present my

own case, and be free from all encumbrances, since everyone says I am the product of my own

short-sightedness! And to think that my name is Door-Darshan! Haah!

I sincerely think I have always been a propaganda-child, and a female one at that! Having been

born in India, the treatment being meted out to me now is not unprecedented, but what hurts is

the purposeful avoidance, as if I am a mistake no one wants to own up! There was a time when I

was the only child in the entire household, and was the apple of everyone’s eyes. Not that I was

brilliant, but I was at least presentable, and all the elders in family had only me to play with. I

was so pampered, I never got the chance to grow up, nor did I want to, lest the attention drifts

away from me. Being the cynosure of everyone’s eyes became my habit, and I took it for

granted, which was to be my bane in the long run. I did not even realize that while I was being

played around with, my playmates were also busy in producing other children, sometimes on

their own merit, at other times through artificial insemination!

They were the midnight’s children, who had the benefit of hindsight, and my own follies to act

as their own ‘what-not-to-do’ dossier. In a moment, my entire lifetime’s contribution to the

family was virtually forgotten. All of you, who suddenly started swearing by a BPL Oye! forgot

that I had given you the first Superhit Muqabla! Today, you are fed up of the news channels

doing the 24*7 analysis of the latest by-elections of the Vidhan Sabha, but it was I who got you

all hooked onto the election-results by throwing in some Hindi films during the midnight votescounting

of 1985 and 1989 elections and brought the Unity-in-Diversity theory to practice in

every drawing room in India by making all grown-up party supporters as well children of various

strata being glued to the screen, bleary-eyed!

The enormity of my loss is still not comprehensible to me, especially since I still have arguably

the most robust infrastructure in India, and probably one of the largest in the world too! But what

good is all this hardware, when the software produced for some time now has been like Faujiii –

the Iron Man…! Aah, those good old days also had aFauji, and he was certainly not an Iron

Man… but he had originality, he had innocence, and he certainly gave me something most alien

to me nowadays, TRPs. But all that was during my golden phase, immediately after I began

catering to the entire nation in colored extravaganza!

I debuted with the nationwide live telecast of the Independence Day Speech by my Mother in

1982, immediately following it up with the Asian Games in New Delhi. India’s win in

the Cricket World Cup the following year cemented my position as the sole provider of

entertainment and salvation for the whole country, and when I started showing them the story of

their own household in the simplest possible manner through Hum Log, Yeh Jo Hai Zindagi,

Buniyaad and Nukkad, I became the most favored child of the household. The agrarian economy

of India suddenly woke up and the farmers from all corners started asking questions and getting

answers through Krishi Darshan! All the producers of the latest Hindi films wanted to get at least

one song-slot on my bi-weekly Chitrahaar! Children could not have enough of Spiderman, He-

Man and Didy’s Comedy Show, but they were also being taught history lessons in the luxury of

their own rooms through Bharat Ek Khoj. However, I was probably the most favorite of the older

folk and the religiously inclined people, who would not let me breathe till I showed them our

mythological ancestry one Sunday after the other!

My golden period continued for almost five years, and I did not realize the birth of my

competitors around 1991, until they started copying my own program-templates to give it back to

me through the language of TRPs and market-share, which I hardly understood or cared about till

then… I was too self-absorbed to realize what was eating me inside-out, and before long, I found

myself out of favour. I know my mistakes in the hindsight… I did not (or probably was not ready

to) grow up with the changing times. I stuck with the same old formula year after year, playing

the morality game with an absolute political-correctness and strict censorship! I had still not

realized that I had been meant to be a propaganda child all along. I am sure my political bosses

had “Ganda hai par Dhanda hai yeh” song playing in their imported iPods in a loop all along…

Bosses changed from time to time, but the imported iPod with the desi song remained with the

chair, and I ended up being their mouthpiece! Over the period, all I would do or was allowed to

do was to show how X had brought glory to our country by doing so-and-so, or how Y had

single-handedly put a “Cherry-Blossom-shine” on the whole of India, the previous efforts by

other office-bearers be damned!

Today, I have 19 arms, technically reaching even the remotest parts of the country, with an

enabled mouthpiece for most of the states individually, and other especially dedicated channels

for sports, news, parliamentary affairs, but I have still not mastered the art of TRPs, and

my market-penetration in terms of viewership is almost negligible. Nobody watches the

programs telecast by me anymore, and two inherent strengths that I always thought would be my

savior, cricket and news, have also gone out of my control. Sometimes, my parents have to forcefeed

my program-contents to the unsuspecting cricket-lovers by denying the exclusive telecast

rights to my cousins! That’s my sole achievement these days, when I can claim a dedicated

patronage.

I do not blame my competitors, for they have been driven by the economics of perfectcompetition

and demand-and-supply in today’s world. My grudge is against my own guardians,

who have left me to compete with the professionals, but have provided me absolutely nothing to

fight with! I am helpless, since I am being governed by the independent Board Members of

the Prasar Bharti under Ministry of Information and Broadcasting of the Government of India,

and unfortunately, most of those Board Members are the bureaucrats on deputation, bored with

their lives, who tune into aBBC or a CNN in case they want an official confirmation of anything

that they might have done themselves during the day!

Is my fate also written with the same ink as the other government-owned monoliths in various

fields, who are falling sick one after the other, and the only solution to which seems to be

euthanasia? I am terribly afraid, and I did not want to go unheard, did not want to bow out

without putting up a fight. So, all my old-lovers, my once-upon-a-time patrons, I beseech you to

show me the way, or at least to say whether what I have to propose is right. I have the following

options available with me at present:

• Give up hope altogether for any kind of revival, and let my life take its own course. Let me

adopt mediocrity for the remainder of my life, and remain a propaganda-mouthpiece for all my

present and future masters.

• Follow what my cousins are doing, and insist on airing the following programs in their

revamped avatar: Bbuuniiyaaad, Huuumm Lougg, Kkaraamchhaandd, Nuukkadd. (I have

confirmed with Jjuumaaannii & Co. about the success-viability of these programs based on

numerology, so please do not suggest any spelling-changes. You are, however, welcome to

suggest other names, but they must all be numerologically tested and verified by a competent

authority.)

• File for divorce / separation / bankruptcy (of ideas), claim alimony (whatever little is due,

based on my present contribution) and settle into a life glorious ignominy, and remain to regale

the tales of my past achievements with nostalgia to all those who would care to listen. (Baap

Mera Ghee Khaya, Haath Mera Soongh Lo)

• Stand up and say no to being taken for granted. Demand my rightful place in the history of

Indian Television, and continue to provide those simple but soulful contents that were once my

hallmark. It’s a tough task, since the entire infrastructure as well as the mindset has to be

revamped, but I can’t take it lying down anymore, there’s my goodwill and past achievement at

stake.

Main Chhupana Jaanta Toh Jag Mujhe Saadhu Samajhta

Shatru Mera Ban Gaya Hai Chhal-rahit Vyavahaar Mera

©SATYENDRA JHA

Santa does it all again :-)

Guys in the University were to be interviewed for a prestigious job...

One common question was asked to all 4 of them.

INTERVIEWER: WHICH IS THE FASTEST THING IN THE WORLD?

YALE guy: Its light, Nothing can travel faster than light.

HARVARD Guy: It's the Thought; because thought is so fast it comes instantly in your mind.

MIT guy: Its Blink, you can blink and its hard to realize you blinked.

SANTA SINGH: Its Loose motion.

INTERVIEWER: (Shocked to hear Santa's reply, asked) "WHY"?

SANTA SINGH: Last night after dinner, I was lying in my bed and I got the

worst stomach cramps, and before I could THINK, BLINK, or TURN ON

THE LIGHTS, it was over!!!!

Sonia Gandhi Biography

---

December 9, 1947 • Orbassano, Italy

Politician

Gandhi, Sonia.

AP/Wide World Photos. Reproduced by permission.

The story should have had a fairy-tale ending: a beautiful young girl meets her handsome Prince Charming, has two children, and lives happily every after. In 1968, however, when Sonia Maino married Rajiv Gandhi of India, the fairy tale was only half realized. She snagged a handsome prince, but she also inherited the troubled history of his country. Rajiv Gandhi was a member of a family that had ruled India since the 1940s. His grandfather, Jawaharlal Nehru, was India's first prime minister, and his mother, Indira Gandhi, held that office throughout the 1970s. Rajiv himself briefly served as prime minister in the 1980s, but was assassinated in 1991 as he attempted to reclaim the post. Almost a decade after her husband's death, Sonia Gandhi reluctantly followed in her famous family's footsteps by entering politics. In 2004, after serving as president of India's Congress Party, she was called upon by members of Parliament to take up the reins of prime minister. Gandhi shocked the nation, and the world, when she declined. Members of the opposition breathed a sigh of relief, but others feared that the Nehru-Gandhi dynasty had come to an end.

❤Love at first sight❤

Sonia Gandhi was born Sonia Maino on December 9, 1947, in the small village of Orbassano, just outside Turin, Italy. She was raised in a traditional Roman Catholic household, and her parents, Stefano and Paolo, were working class people. Stefano was a building contractor who owned his own medium-sized construction business; Paolo took care of the family's three daughters. When Sonia was eighteen years old, her father sent her to Cambridge, England, to study English. He did not know that his oldest daughter's life was about to change forever.

In 1965, just a year after arriving in England, Sonia met a young Indian student named Rajiv Gandhi (1944–1991), who was studying mechanical engineering at Cambridge University. According to Sonia Gandhi, it was love at first sight. The courtship, however, lasted three years, perhaps because Rajiv was from one of the most famous families in India, if not the world. Sonia's parents were reluctant to have her become involved in such a different culture, and Sonia herself was nervous about meeting Rajiv's famous mother, Indira Gandhi (1917–1984), who was considered to be the "first lady" of India. Indira Gandhi's father, Jawaharlal Nehru (1889–1964), became the country's first prime minister after India claimed its independence from Great Britain in 1947, and Gandhi worked closely with him until his death. In 1965 Indira Gandhi was poised to fill Nehru's shoes.

"Power in itself has never attracted me, nor has position been my goal."

Sonia's fears were quickly overcome as she and Indira became fast friends. In 1968, Sonia and Rajiv were married in a simple ceremony in New Delhi, India; Sonia wore the same pink sari her mother-in-law had worn at her own wedding many years before. A sari is a traditional dress that consists of several yards of cloth draped around the waist and shoulders. Following the wedding Sonia and Rajiv moved in with Indira Gandhi, who by this time had become prime minister. Sonia's relationship with Indira deepened, and ultimately she became the faithful and obedient daughter-in-law, in charge of running the household. This meant that although Gandhi came into the marriage a modern woman of the West, she soon traded her miniskirts for saris and steeped herself in Indian culture. She even learned to speak Hindi, the official language of India.

(Sonia and Rajiv in a light mood relishing Kwality Ice Cream)

G.K. " The Phobias"

Achluophobia - Fear of darkness.

Acrophobia - Fear of heights.

Agliophobia - Fear of pain.

Agoraphobia - Fear of open spaces or crowds.

Aichmophobia - Fear of needles or pointed objects.

Amaxophobia - Fear of riding in a car.

Androphobia - Fear of men.

Anginophobia - Fear of angina or choking.

Anthrophobia - Fear of flowers.

Anthropophobia - Fear of people or society.

Aphenphosmphobia - Fear of being touched.

Arachnophobia - Fear of spiders.

Arithmophobia - Fear of numbers.

Astraphobia - Fear of thunder and lightening.

Ataxophobia - Fear of disorder or untidiness.

Atelophobia - Fear of imperfection.

Atychiphobia - Fear of failure.

Autophobia - Fear of being alone.

Bacteriophobia - Fear of bacteria.

Barophobia - Fear of gravity.

Bathmophobia - Fear of stairs or steep slopes.

Batrachophobia - Fear of amphibians.

Belonephobia - Fear of pins and needles.

Bibliophobia - Fear of books.

Botanophobia - Fear of plants.

Cacophobia - Fear of ugliness.

Catagelophobia - Fear of being ridiculed.

Catoptrophobia - Fear of mirrors.

Chionophobia - Fear of snow.

Chromophobia - Fear of colors.

Chronomentrophobia - Fear of clocks.

Claustrophobia - Fear of confined spaces.

Coulrophobia - Fear of clowns.

Cyberphobia - Fear of computers.

Cynophobia - Fear of dogs.

Dendrophobia - Fear of trees.

Dentophobia - Fear of dentists.

Domatophobia - Fear of houses.

Dystychiphobia - Fear of accidents.

Ecophobia - Fear of the home.

Elurophobia - Fear of cats.

Entomophobia - Fear of insects.

Ephebiphobia - Fear of teenagers.

Equinophobia - Fear of horses.

Gamophobia - Fear of marriage.

Genuphobia - Fear of knees.

Glossophobia - Fear of speaking in public.

Gynophobia - Fear of women.

Heliophobia - Fear of the sun.

Hemophobia - Fear of blood.

Herpetophobia - Fear of reptiles.

Hydrophobia - Fear of water.

Iatrophobia - Fear of doctors.

Insectophobia - Fear of insects.

Koinoniphobia - Fear of rooms.

Leukophobia - Fear of the color white.

Lilapsophobia - Fear of tornadoes and hurricanes.

Lockiophobia - Fear of childbirth.

Mageirocophobia - Fear of cooking.

Megalophobia - Fear of large things.

Melanophobia - Fear of the color black.

Microphobia - Fear of small things.

Mysophobia - Fear of dirt and germs.

Necrophobia - Fear of death or dead things.

Noctiphobia - Fear of the night.

Nosocomephobia - Fear of hospitals.

Obesophobia - Fear of gaining weight.

Octophobia - Fear of the figure 8.

Ombrophobia - Fear of rain.

Ophidiophobia - Fear of snakes.

Ornithophobia - Fear of birds.

Papyrophobia - Fear of paper.

Pathophobia - Fear of disease.

Pedophobia - Fear of children.

Philophobia - Fear of love.

Phobophobia - Fear of phobias.

Podophobia - Fear of feet.

Porphyrophobia - Fear of the color purple.

Pteridophobia - Fear of ferns.

Pteromerhanophobia - Fear of flying.

Pyrophobia - Fear of fire.

Scolionophobia - Fear of school.

Selenophobia - Fear of the moon.

Sociophobia - Fear of social evaluation.

Somniphobia - Fear of sleep.

Tachophobia - Fear of speed.

Technophobia - Fear of technology.

Tonitrophobia - Fear of thunder.

Trypanophobia - Fear of injections.

Venustraphobia - Fear of beautiful women.

Verminophobia - Fear of germs.

Wiccaphobia - Fear of witches and witchcraft.

Xenophobia - Fear of strangers or foreigners.

Zoophobia - Fear of animals.