OF SOUL & LIFE

If ever I die,

That will only be a reprieve,

For I shall walk again and again

In mystifying forms of Life.

 

Keep the sparrows alive,

Chirping from tree to balcony,

And the beautiful butterfly,

That sips the nectar honey.

 

Keep the eagles soaring,

Kissing the Sun high

And the tigers roaring,

That gods bow to knees nigh.

 

Ah, the life that runs wild

Gambols, cascades, spirits

In fascinating forms of life.

 

Let them be alive

For if I ever die

That will only be a reprieve

For I shall come again and again

To walk the wonderful forms of life.

 

 

Available also on amazon.com {Kindle edition also}. Do please get a copy !! 🙂

 

THE MOST TREASURED GUESTS

“They too came,

The most treasured guests;

But they stood behind,

And waited till

All had dined;

And when others had gone,

And it was quiet and empty;

They came and wished me,

And we talked of old times,

 

Of laughter and sunshine;                                   

And when my wife came out,

And asked what I was doing

Standing alone in the dark night;

How could I tell her

That the night had just come alive !”

CIRCLES OF FAITH (DEDICATED TO PHANTOM, MY PET LABRADOR)

 

“Did time again so knock?

For there again in sight,

Where the road curved thrice,

Walked the man and his dog

On a brilliant moonlit night,

With scented orchards on the side;

The wind sighed in tree,

Then in a gust, broke free;

Scattering the leaves,

The dog chasing after,

in bounding leaps;

The peace was so deep,

For eternity in soul to keep;

Suddenly the clouds shifted,

And hid the moon,

Shadows lurked, spread in loom,

And deep dark menace

Climbed in hysterical scariness;

Did time again so knock?

For there with the stranger

walked Phantom, that could be a dog

The Good that could be so Bad;

 As if God and Devil

cavorted in endless pact !”

A NIGHT ON THE ROAD

It was a strong sturdy vehicle. Its headlights pierced the darkness ahead as the vehicle steadily moved on.

The vehicle was empty except the driver.

The night was quiet. The fields on either side of the road were bathed in moonlight. No other vehicle had been met with for quite sometime now.

The road ahead was broken and he slowed the vehicle; pulling it to the side to avoid the rougher patches. The night wind drifted in and the headlights cut through the fields as the vehicle angled across the road negotiating the broken surface.

On an impulse he stopped and pulled down the window to his right while keeping the engine on. The headlights looked strange and isolated in the night. He switched the engine off; keeping only the parking lights on.

The cool breeze played upon his face and bare forearms. He sat quietly looking at the fields on either side. Slowly as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could make out the landscape. Much of the fields were bare, lit by the moonlight. Clumps of trees stood in pooled shadows.

He looked long at the shadows; then shook his head and looked away.

Opening the door, he got out and went around to the back of the vehicle. He stood looking down the road. Nothing was to be seen. He went back to the front of the vehicle. The road ahead, after some distance, was lost in darkness.

The usual night sounds were missing. It was quiet and empty; except for the occasional drift of wind brushing across his face.

He walked around in an aimless manner; his shoes crunching the surface underneath. Of a sudden, he realized he had walked a considerable distance up the road. On turning, he saw the shadow of his vehicle; the moonlight glancing off its metallic grillwork. Under the open sky, it stood perched on the nook of the road, somber and silhouetted.

He looked up at the sky, watching the full pale moon.

Then he walked back quickly to the vehicle; got in and turned the ignition on. The engine revved in; its measured confident sound assuring him. He switched on the headlights and moved ahead.

The road was isolated and he increased the speed.

He felt it now. About 20-30 minutes further on it should be.

Thoughts meandered in his head. The image of a late winter afternoon came again and again; when, as a child, he sat reading a book alone in the secluded, tree shaded rear balcony of his home.

He sensed it nearer now.

As the road straightened out, he saw it.

In the desolate bareness, it sat; a small roadside eating place on the right side of the road about 500m ahead.

Though it was late in the night – 12.45 exactly as he looked at his luminous dial – the place appeared quietly alive.

On both sides of this place, the road was bare; except for a single tree whose spreading branches lay a little to the back and side of it. A glow of yellow light tingled in front of it; possibly that of a lantern.

It was a low structure. He could make out bare fields on either side; barren and uncovered. Yet as he looked more closely, the vehicle nearer now; he could make out, after about 50m behind this eating place, a dark shadowy patch stretching behind in the distance and lost in the night; as if made by dense clump of trees.

He was upon this place now. Slowing down, he looked in the rear view mirror. The moonlit road was silent behind. He crossed over to the right side of the road.

It was a small place. Not too long. In front of it, the bare earth had been packed down and on it some small round tables and chairs lay. The end further away from him was in shadows. At the nearer end, a large lantern hung illuminating the front where the tables and chairs lay.

He eased the vehicle over to the far end; parking it on the side of the road in the darkness.

He sat in the vehicle, watching the place. In the corner where the lantern lay, some food utensils were sitting on a counter and, separated by a distance, a coal fire was glowing. There didn’t seem to be anyone around.

As he watched, the shadows behind the counter, where the utensils lay, seemed to shift as if someone was moving behind it.

He opened the door and got out; shutting it behind him.

He moved across to the front of the place. As he did so, the darkened corner seemed to come alive with a presence.

He walked to where the lantern hung and stood standing in front of the counter, facing the shadows.

Out of the shadows emerged a figure. A thin old man.

“Would there be still anything to eat?” he asked the old man.

The old man nodded and pointed to a table in front.

He went to the table standing on the packed bare earth; illuminated by the lantern and pulled out a chair. He checked for dirt on the chair and, surprisingly, found none, either on the chair or the table.

He sat down with his back facing the vehicle.

The thin old man walked across to his table and put down an empty glass and a jug of water. Then he went back and got busy getting the food ready.

The man from the vehicle for a while watched him. Then his eyes shifted to his left and he studied the shadows in the other half of the place which had come alive as he had crossed it.

He could make out nothing in the shadows but there was presence, or presences there. Shifting presences, which seemed to grow even as he watched. But he saw nothing.

The old man was walking towards him and set the food before him.

The smell was good and the food wholesome looking.

He started eating. The old man came out with further servings. Everything was normal; except that once when he lifted his eyes to ask for something, his eyes locked suddenly with that of the old man.

An abyss opened somewhere; dark and fathomless.

He breathed easy and deep. The old man abruptly turned away.

He called for tea and sat sipping it; turning once to check his vehicle.

The man behind the counter, as he stood handling the utensils, no longer looked thin. Somehow his face and frame was fuller now and a kind of shadow seemed to fall over his face concealing his eyes.

The shadowed corner to his front and left was fully alive now; as if trying to touch him.

He let everything go in his mind and soul and stood up stretching like a wolf. He opened his mouth deep as he did so, as if in a yawn, but no sound came and the teeth bared in a snarl.

From the darkened patch behind the place, as if from the thick grove of trees, started a wail, soft low and sweet at first; then lifting and building in a strange howling melancholy.

He leapt down the bare fields at the back of the place and started running towards the grove of shadowed trees. As he did so, he felt a multitude of teeming mass surge down pursuing him.

He ran, leaping and twisting and then abruptly turned. The surging seething mass stopped; a fury reaching out to him from it. He threw his head back and laughed; a deep cascading laugh which spread out in the darkness.

Then he walked towards the seething mass; smiling as he did so. The black shadows stood their ground and at the last moment, pulled back and receded. He stood still.

Then in deliberate steps and manner; he turned back and entered the darkened grove.

Someone or something hit him then. He could not see what or who. It was a stunning blow and he lay on the ground, trying to recoup.

He willed the pain to the back of his mind and climbed to his feet.

The air was oppressive and he was having difficulty breathing. All round him, the darkness seemed suffused with a dark cold fury.

He wet his lips. From nowhere, the image came again, of himself as a child, sitting in the late winter afternoon in the rear balcony with sound of birds around and noise of his mother calling out to someone in the house behind.

He started singing. A song, whose words he loved and the melody of which caressed his mind whenever he heard it. The song came easily and naturally and he moved ahead in the darkness, singing softly.

The cold dark pantheon around him grew till it was all total darkness and he could see nothing.

But the song was on his lips and he moved singing it. In small steps, feeling the ground, he walked, as he had walked when he held his mother’s hand as a child, and moved forward.

The lifting darkness watched; then erupted in fury.

Dark writhing tentacles of shadows seethed; seeking to hold him by the throat. Surging wails and moans filled the night.

He walked, still softly singing. He let it come out which lay inside; desolate empty barrenness.

His emptiness stretched as it was inside him. Now and then he stumbled; but corrected himself.

The seething fury touched and engulfed him.

He felt himself growing numb and infinitely tired.

But his emptiness around him kept growing and abruptly the dark swirling, seething, snarling mass moved as if in a cataclysmic frenzy; lifted itself from him and vanished.

He turned back and looked at the road. It was all dark now. There was no lantern light anymore. The eating place was still there but emanated lifelessness and silence.

The still of the night was broken by a phone ringing. His cell phone; left behind in the vehicle.

Stumbling he ran towards the road; hastily opened the door and lifted his cell phone.

“The child is still breathing and they say there is hope”, the voice at the other end told him.

He breathed deeply and put the phone down on the seat.

After a while, the phone went silent; as was the night outside.

—–0—–

THE WELL ON THE HILL

The sound seemed distant, yet near.

A rhythmic, low sound – mingling with the sound of crickets and the breeze – and constantly pulsating in the depth of the night.

He walked to the window of his flat on the second floor and looked out. Beyond the boundary wall of the apartment building, lay a park. Adjacent to the park, was a large enclosed plot in semi-wilderness. The sound seemed to be coming from this plot.

It was a strangely soothing sound; like the sound made by winches on old-fashioned wells, when they were worked to draw water from the well.

As he stood at the window, listening; his eyes fell on the security guard – the Nepali, Thapa – sitting at his usual place. After a thought, he came out of his flat and went down to where the security guard was sitting.

The guard got up as he approached.

“Can you hear, from that direction, any sound resembling that of water being drawn from a well,” he smilingly asked the guard pointing in the direction of the semi-wild plot.

The guard listened intently for a while; then shook his head in the negative.

–2–

Next day, on his morning walk; he worked his way to the plot from where he had heard the sound in the night. There were no approach roads to it and he had to cross a number of plots – where building constructions were going on – to reach it.

It seemed to be a large plot, enclosed by a boundary wall broken in a number of places. The space inside resembled a mini jungle; thickly covered by bushes, trees and shrubs. He found a spot where the boundary wall was broken. Two women were cutting grass near it.

As he was entering the plot, one of the women called out, “There are snakes in there sahib. We have just seen a big, old Cobra.”

He smiled and nodded; and went inside.

Carefully he worked his way to the spot from where he had thought the sound had come last night.

At first, he did not see anything. But as he searched; he saw it – a small, dilapidated well hidden by thick shrubs. He walked up to it.

It was a monsoon month. The day was still young. The air was heavy with the damp pungent smell of the earth and the greenery around. Butterflies flitted around in the soft breeze.

As he stood there, looking at the old broken well; a strangely soothing, yet desolate, feeling enveloped him. He cleared out a small space at the edge of the broken well and sat down.

He sat there for a long time, his reverie finally broken by the sound of a heavy vehicle starting up in one of the construction plots nearby.

Slowly he got up and left.

In the afternoon, on an impulse, he went out and bought a small bunch of flowers. He made his way to the old, broken well – this time no one was around – and placed the flowers on the ground near the well.

After about a month, he left to join his special unit in the Army. But while he was there; he heard that sound – as when the winch is worked to draw water from old-fashioned wells – often in the dead of the night and, frequently, he would walk up to the old, broken well and sit there; drawn by that strangely soothing, yet desolate, feeling surrounding the well.

–3–

He scanned the hillside through his night vision binoculars. Nothing suspicious could be seen.

Scattered around him, as per his instructions, were the men from his special strike unit. The target lay in the valley ahead.

The valley was too narrow and the surrounding hillsides too close. An ideal place for any ambush, he thought.

It was time to go in to hit the target. Everything seemed to be in clear.

Yet he delayed.

From time to time, his second-in-command looked at him but said nothing.

There was a sense of uneasiness in him; making him delay.

And as he waited; suddenly, he heard it, again; – the sound made by the working of the winch on a well. It seemed to be coming from a number of spots on the hillsides.

He listened intently. There was no mistaking it. The sound was the same.

He turned around to his second-in-command and asked in a low whisper, “Do you hear any unusual sound from the hillsides ahead?”

The second-in-command took his time listening.

“No Sir”, he replied in an undertone.

But the sound was there, same as he had heard it before – pulsating rhythmically in the night, mingling with the other night sounds.

He took his decision and gave the command to withdraw. His men looked puzzled but no one said anything.

As he withdrew with his men, the message came from the base.

“WITHDRAW IMMEDIATELY. ENEMY ALERT AND SITTING IN AMBUSH ON THE HILLSIDES.”

He had the message shared with his men.

Back at the base, he asked his men if any of them had heard anything unusual on the hillsides that enclosed the target valley.

No one had.

–4–

Next day he met the mission commander.

“You know something interesting? Those buggers have cleared out from the area and they seem to have done it in great hurry”, the mission commander started.

“We have it from our source that they got spooked badly in the night by some strange sound and being highly superstitious; they have cleared the area in a jiffy,” the commander continued.

“Any information as to what kind of sound it was Sir?”, he asked.

The senior officer stroked his chin, “The sound seemed to be that when water is drawn from old-style wells and it seemed to be coming from all over the hillsides. At least this is what as per information given by our source.”

Both of them were quiet.

“Strange that none of you heard any such sound,” the other man then remarked.

He did not say anything.

In his mind’s eye, he saw that old broken well, hidden by shrubs, and wondered when next, if ever again, he would hear that sound…..

–x–

THE VOICE INSIDE

_1_

The small flat was bare and empty. There was hardly anything in it except the bed they had bought and the mattress on it.

His wife had packed a dinner for him and put in a quarter bottle of whiskey along with a soda bottle. He had some of the whiskey and then ate part of the dinner.

He went and lay down on the bed.

Outside, it was surprisingly quiet. Lights were on in some of the other apartments on different floors of the building. But there was hardly any sound. Not even the noise of a TV. Only small sounds of muted laughter came from somewhere nearby.

On one side of the room were glass doors; facing out. On the other side was the bedroom door opening inside the house. The room itself was small.

From the floor above came the sound of a toilet being flushed and then someone moving around. That too went quiet after sometime.

He slipped off to sleep but woke up to find a solitary mosquito buzzing around. He pulled a rug that he had brought over his head trying to keep the mosquito out.

He woke again to sharp mosquito bites and swore; scratching the side of his face where the mosquito had bitten.

Sometime afterwards, he again slipped off to sleep. He woke numerously. The mosquito wasn’t there. The few lights that had been on were off now. He would look at the dark face of the building around visible from his un-curtained glass doors and would doze off to intermittent small sleeps.

Then he woke up again.

This time it was different. He was immediately uncomfortable as he woke up.

Instinctively, his glance went to the half open door of the bedroom opening towards the inside. There was a faint moonlight coming through the glass doors. He didn’t see anything there. But he heard a voice inside his head murmuring, “someone is watching……”

He didn’t know when he fell asleep again. He woke up early morning to the continuous barking of a dog.

He quickly collected the few things he had brought along for the night and tidied up a little. Then he drove back to where they lived.

That night his wife asked, “how was your first night in our new apartment?”

He shrugged, “it was surprisingly quiet. I had expected the place to be more lively”.

“Maybe because it was a Monday night”, his wife said.

“Maybe,” he nodded.

He suddenly remembered that feeling of someone watching at that unknown hour of the night.

But he kept quiet.

When he thought over that feeling; he could sense a woman.

A woman somewhere around forty; tall, fair and attractive. Watching quietly; but intently.

_2_

Some days after, they shifted to their new apartment.

The first few days were busy; occupied in settling down.

It was after about a week.

He was sipping hot tea in the evening. His wife was telling the maid what to cook for dinner. Then she frowned, as if she remembered something.

“You know we had a guest today, when you were away. She said she lives nearby. I asked her to come in; but she said she would come again.”

He stopped sipping his tea.

She pursed her lips, “I asked her how she knew about us. And you know, she gave a strange answer”.

“What did she say?” he asked quickly.

“She said that some persons she liked watching …….

xxx–xxx

THE THIN LINE

On the road ahead, he saw nothing but a building haze and dense trees on either side.  It was still early evening, but the growing mist or fog,  whatever it was, had considerably reduced visibility.

He switched on the headlights – and then, the fog lamps.

Driving was becoming increasingly tedious.  Not only was visibility bad; but the road was also narrow and twisting.

And then, a slow drizzle started, which made it worse.

The haze had come quickly and unexpectedly.

He had planned to pass through, but realized that he would have to find a place to stop at, and find it quickly.

He remembered the place and took care to locate the turn when he came to it.  An even narrower road, more uneven and broken, branched off to the left.  He took this turn and after driving for another fifteen to twenty minutes, came to a wooden gate on his left.

He stopped the vehicle and got out to open the gate.  After putting the vehicle inside, he carefully closed the gate and drove up the path.

The tyres crunched the gravel.

There were grass lawns and flower beds on either side of the path; well lit by a number of lamp posts.  Up ahead, there was an open portico herding a cheerful looking ambling cottage.

He drove up to the portico, stopped the vehicle and got out.

Flowerpots lay all around.  A wide door, painted white, framed the entrance to the cottage.

As he was in the act of walking up to this door, – it opened and a man came out, looking vaguely familiar.

“Hello, good evening,” he addressed the man who had come out, “the mist came down suddenly thick and heavy and I had to stop.  Is it all right if I park my vehicle near your house for the night?”

The man crossed his arms across his chest.  He was tall, somewhere in his mid-fifties.  He was wearing a light-coloured tweed jacket, dark trousers with a silk scarf knotted at his throat.  He looked distinguished.

“Of course, I would be sleeping inside the vehicle,” he added.

The man continued to look at him and then gave an imperceptible nod.  “Come on inside”, he said quietly with a smile.

Inside, it was warm and cheerful, almost like home.

The host was courteous with a demeanour which was infectiously relaxing.  He was shown a washroom and, after he had finished, found himself in a comfortable sofa in the front room.

The conversation was routine.  It came out that the house belonged to the host and that he had been living there for a number of years.

Sitting in the sofa, he found himself feeling pleasantly tired and must have nodded off; for the host suddenly insisted that he should take his dinner and then retire for the night.  He mumbled a polite refusal, but the host was insistent.

After dinner, he was shown to a small bedroom, – again warm and cheerful.

From the window of this bedroom, he could see the night outside – dark and cold.
“Thank you, it’s a cold night outside.”

The host was in the act of leaving the room, but hearing this, he paused and turned around. He smiled, “No need to say thanks. Just a thin wall from the night outside.” Then he turned and went away after wishing him good night.

He stood near the bed, alone in the neatly furnished room – slightly uneasy. The parting remark of the host, as also the host himself, seemed vaguely familiar.

But he was tired and quickly fell asleep.

He wasn’t sure what woke him up.
Suddenly, he was awake.
It was quiet.
The house was peaceful.

He lay in the bed, then looked at the window. Curtains were drawn across it, but not fully, and the night outside was visible from a slight gap between the drawn curtains.

On an impulse, he got up and looked outside – and instantly froze.

A number of persons were moving outside. But there was no sound. Only one or two lamp posts were burning now and it was dark – so dark that it made the figures look like silhouettes.

But then, there was no sound. They moved in total silence, randomly, like shadows and he found himself holding his breath.

It was a dream like sequence outside; peculiarly soothing.

He sank down on his knees, his chin resting on the window sill.
He didn’t know exactly when he fell asleep again. The cold woke him up and he stumbled to his feet with a start. Hastily he peered outside – but there was nothing out there – just the fog hanging heavy and dimming the one or two lamp posts that were still alight.

He looked at his watch. It was nearly morning now. He tidied himself up, put on his shoes and then, treading slowly, came out of his room.

The house had an empty feeling. Slowly and carefully he made his way around. The place had a different look now – though still quiet, but as if empty – without anyone living there.

He stood in the front room, looking around; and as he did so, it grew to be morning. He parted the curtains and let in the morning light. Somehow, he was reluctant to switch on the electric lights.

A book lay open on a side table. He picked it up.

Two lines, heavily underscored, caught his eye.

It read, “The line between the good and the evil is thin, surprisingly thin. Both are compellingly driven, and therefore so much more close than we think.”

He turned to the title of the book and looked at the name of the author.

He put down the book.

He came out of the Cottage, closing the front white door carefully.

To the side of the wooden door, which he had somehow not noticed in the night, hung a wooden placard which gave the information that the author of the book that he had picked up a while ago had lived in this house – and the place had been converted into a memorial house after the author’s death.

As he walked away, idly he wondered why he had not recognized himself the other night – for the name of the author was his.

Was it because of the thin line in between………………

CRISS CROSS

He stood in the open doorway. Outside it was brilliantly moonlit. He stood watching. A breeze had sprung up and he felt its coolness on his face.

He closed the door and stepped out. On an impulse, he found himself looking up. The sky was clear. There were tufts of clouds here and there and the moon was shining full and bright.

He walked out to the path in front of the house which climbed up on the hill. He didn’t have an idea as to the exact time but guessed that it was past midnight.

The night was quiet. The path wound up the hill; shaded ocassionally by trees. He strolled up this path; lazily kicking a pebble now and then.

There, when he turned the corner, he saw the figure – sitting, it looked like, on some high boulder or fence next to the path.

He was a little intrigued by the presence of this figure at such late hour in the night. He increased his pace a little; interested now. As he came close; he saw that it was a child – wearing some kind of a large cloak or coat which made it look larger than it was.

When he came closer; the child lifted his face. It was an extraordinarily pale face which seemed to be filled by the deep dark eyes of the child. The child sat quietly and in many ways, it was eerie. It didn’t affect him, however, even though he noticed the eeriness.

“Hey kid, what are you doing here,” he called out to the child.

The child didn’t answer but kept looking at him.

“Not the time for you to be alone pal”, he said, looking at the child closely.

For a second, the child’s face seemed to blossom and distend; but when he looked again, there the kid sat looking at him silently.

“Uh, ok, no joking, tell me your house and I’ll take you back. Not safe here,” he gestured coming further close.

A smell, as if of dry fallen leaves, came from the child.

Their eyes locked. He felt a deep abyss somewhere. He jerked his eyes away.

The child lifted his hand and pointed. He turned back to look at where the child was pointing. On the sea, beneath the hill, some distance away, a light blinked.

He turned aside, so that he would keep the child within his view as also watch the distant gleam. Slowly he could make out what looked like a small motor boat heading towards the shore. The moonlight glinted off its shining hull as he watched the boat.

Suddenly he lost interest in the kid and found himself walking down to the shore. The boat was already there; anchored close to the shore when he reached it. But there was no one around.

As he stood watching the boat; he became conscious of a movement on the sands behind him. He turned – to see the same kid with a scruffy looking dog beside him.

He picked up a broken twig lying at his feet and threw it for the dog. In a few moments, the dog was bounding up to him with the twig in his mouth. He looked at the dog and smiled.

Then he felt apprehensive and quickly looked up. The kid was no longer there. Instead stood a large indiscriminate figure; quiet but menacing.

He sighed. He turned as if to walk away; but suddenly came around facing the large figure. There was a snarl on his face and his mouth opened wolf like. With a cry of unholy joy; he sprang at the figure and brought it down to the ground. But the figure shook itself free and with a leap was running up the hill. He sat looking at the running figure till it disappeared in the shadows of the hill.

The boat was still there. But there was no dog. Neither could he see the child. He lay down on the sand; tasting the salty wind on his lips.

He found the night growing darker and looked up to see clouds much more than there were earlier. Somewhere in the hill behind, he heard a sound; a long wailing sound.

In a blitz, he was up; racing to the hill path where he had met the child.

It was much darker now. But he could still see that there appeared to be a figure; in fact two figures – sitting at the same place where the child had sat earlier.

He slowed down, and as he did so; the dog bounded up in front of him and merged with the figures.

He went up to them. A kind of mist was building up; or so it seemed to him.

He went nearer; walking slowly and quietly. He reached out and touched the misty outline and it was like the feel of dust upon his fingers.

He sat down before them, head bowed; while the misty outline slowly faded away in the darkness.

There was the boat down at the shore waiting for him and there lay the open door of his house where he could go back and rest. Or he could go back to the cemetery and lie down with them; his son, their pet dog and the driver who had crashed their car.

He would decide for he had time. The night was not over yet and there was plenty yet left to criss-cross.

 

 

 

 

April 12/13, 2010 Sanjay Kumar Singh

FURTHER EERIE EXPERIENCE

 

After that rented room I have earlier narrated about; I shifted to a cheaper lodging as my younger sister, who was awaiting hostel accommodation, was also to live with me. Being what I am, I hadn’t even had a look at the new lodgings which Babloo, the guy I have earlier told you about – my man friday – had located.

It had started raining heavily while we were on our way to the new lodgings after vacating our old one. There was a small carrier vehicle transporting our belongings and my sister and I followed behind in an auto. Babloo led the way in front on my motorbike.

I was stunned to see our new lodgings. A small door from the street led to the front room. There were no windows to it. What lay behind the front room was like a cave. A small yard was there, with a tiny bathroom to the far side of it. Again, a small kitchen lay to the right; and a boxed in room to the left which was meant to serve as sleeping quarters. All this was in near darkness. Over the yard, there was a small rectangular opening on the floor above from which, hardly any sunlight came. The whole thing was stifling and oppressive.

It was obvious that the place wasn’t worth living in. The rain had stopped. I left my sister in the front room, and with Babloo, immediately set out to find new lodgings.

We came back tired without any success. The place inside was in darkness. It had come to be of evening time. There was no response when I pressed the doorbell. Apparently, electricity had gone off. I knocked on the front door; and as soon as I did, calling out my sister’s name, I found the door being immediately opened and my sister looking frantic. It seemed she had been crying also. Later, she confirmed that and told me that after we had left; a great sense of uneasiness and apprehension stole over her and that she had fervently started praying for me to come back.

It was an extremely uncomfortable night that we spent on that day. My sister refusing to be alone even for a minute.

Next day Bablool fell ill. It became so much so that he would vomit even if any fruit juice was put in his mouth. But what was worrying was that he started having nightmares where he would rant and rave. This had never happened to him before, at least not before me and he had been with me for some time. One nightmare which he frequently had, as he told to me, was that someone would sit on his chest and stab him repeatedly. He would have these nightmares even during daytime. Daytime is a wrong word to use, for inside that lodgings, there was no feelings of daytime.

By the third day, he became extremely weak and it started looking that we would have to get him hospitalised, which again was extremely worrisome, as I hardly had any spare money.

That night, since that sleeping room had been arranged; Babloo slept in the front room where it was most comfortable and my sister and I shifted to that tiny sleeping room.

We went to sleep around 10 and I immediately fell into a deep, heavy sleep. I woke up, inexplicably, all of a sudden, to total awareness. I couldn’t say what it was; but there was a kind of freezing fear all around. I say freezing because that’s what it was. My limbs appeared to be frozen with fear and my hair stood on its hackles on my neck.

By tremendous effort, I gathered myself to switch on the lights. I looked at the clock and I was surprised. It was 12 o’clock. Just two hours since we had gone to sleep; but it felt as if I had slept for hours at an end. I checked on my sister. She seemed to be in deep sleep.

I sat there in my bed and it came to my mind that I would have to fight this thing, whatever it was, if we were to continue living there.

I picked up a small torchlight that I had, and mustering everything I had inside me, opened the door to the small enclosed yard that I told you about.

First, I went to the bathroom and switched on the lights there. I willed this thing against me; putting all of me against it. Then, I went to the kitchen. As soon as I opened its door, my hair stood on its end. Even though I couldn’t see anything, there was no doubt that the air inside was laden with an overpowering, oppressive presence. There started growing, I clearly remember, a nameless fear and great apprehension inside me.

I fought with it, stepped further forward and, after some groping on the wall in desperation, managed to switch on the lights. After that, slowly the feeling lifted. In fact, the front room where Babloo was sleeping appeared to be perfectly normal when I went inside and put on the lights there also.

Gradually, everything settled down and started feeling normal; even inside the kitchen where I went to switch off the lights. In fact, I switched off the lights wherever I had put them on and went back to the sleeping room. Surprisingly, both the other two kept sleeping during the entire thing.

Not surprisingly, things were much more normal from the next day onwards except that, after about a week from that incident, around two o’clock in the afternoon Babloo called me to the kitchen and pointed to what looked like a heap of excreta just below the sink. It was a fairly large heap of some kind of inhuman excreta. We looked at it in silence. I told Babloo to drain it off and to put dettol over that particular spot after doing so; taking particular care that my sister saw nothing of it.

We inquired from the neighbourhood grocery shop and were told that no tenant lasted for any reasonable time there and that they all soon left but the shop keeper wasn’t able to say anything more than that.

We ourselves didn’t live there much long. Soon, my sister got her hostel accommodation, and I too shifted elsewhere. We, however, did notice marks and nails on the walls, particularly in the front room, which when described to certain knowledgeable persons in such matters, were informed that they represented a puja or rituals performed to drive away evil spirits.

ANOTHER EERIE EXPERIENCE

[This, as narrated, to me by a close friend……………..]

“I was doing my graduation in a college run by missionary sisters.” She named the college, a famous one.

“The college building was an old one; spread into different wings.”

“I was in the eastern wing; an older part of the building. New structures had come up on the Western Wing. This eastern wing was a British time construction with high roofs and tall and wide staircases and doors.” She continued.

“Girls, who for some reason or the other, could not leave during the summer vacation were allowed to stay back. That summer I had to stay back. There was another girl staying back and both of us were shifted to this eastern wing. We shared a room together. Her name was Jyoti. Our room was right at the end of the corridor. On the other end of the corridor, and this was at second-floor….. there was nothing above the second -floor but the roof……..were bathrooms and toilets.”

“Every night, at 10.30, the supervisory sister would come to check that everything was all right, say goodnight and then leave. Where the corridor ended, after the bathrooms, there was a staircase going down. On the ground floor, access to the staircase from outside was closed off by an iron grill. After getting down to the ground floor, there was a short passage leading to the Central building. This passage was also closed off by an iron grill. Where the passage ended, there was another flight of stairs and on the first-floor landing, there was a door leading to the corridor in which the sisters lived.”

“Actually the sister came in every night to check that the iron grill on the ground floors were properly locked and secured. There had been an incident sometime back of an intruder trying to get in.”

“The sister came in, checked that everything was okay, and left after we had said good nights. After she had left, I told Jyoti I was going for a bath. She was sitting propped up in her bed reading a book. She nodded. After about half an hour I came back and found that the room lights were off. Only the bedside lamp near her was burning.”

“My bed was to one side of the room; and her bed to the other side. The room was kind of divided into two halves. My study desk and chair as also my cupboard were also towards my half whereas her’s were on the other half.”

“Before getting into my own bed, I decided to switch off the lamp at her side. When I bent down to do so, my eyes fell on her face. Surprised, I noticed that there were sweat drops on her temple. Her face, overall, wasn’t looking particularly healthy also. I touched her forehead. To my horror, I found it burning with fever.”

“I tried to talk to her but her mumblings were hardly coherent. I could not understand it. Just 30 minutes back, she was perfectly all right.”

“While my mind was racing, she opened her eyes and asked for water. I quickly went to the bottle we kept in the room filled with drinking water. To my dismay, I found the bottle to be empty. Now the nearest place from where we could get drinking water was from a tap on the ground floor at the bottom of the staircase.”

“I would again have to cross the entire corridor and go down the staircase. I was tired and not particularly in a mood to do so. Up till now, I or neither for that matter Jyoti as I could recall, had gone down to get water. We always used to fill it when we went to take dinner. Even as I hesitated, she again asked for water.”

“I made up my mind to go and get the water. Unfortunately, there was no torch in the room. Telling her that I would be back in 10 minutes with water, I went out into the corridor, pulling the door close.”

“As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I could see just enough to slowly make my way. The rows of rooms were all closed. I reached the end of the corridor. There was a door in between leading to the staircase from this corridor. Opening it, I slowly went to the head of the staircase. There were high windows on the walls both to the back as well as to the front of the staircase. These windows were glass fronted. It was from the door that opened to the staircase from our corridor as also these windows, that a faint moonlight illuminated the stairs. Much of it however still lay in dark.”

“I slowly and very carefully made my way down the staircase, holding on to the banisters. I was in my nightgown and the only sound that could be heard in the silence was the material of my gown rustling as I walked.”

“The first-floor landing loomed up before me. Its corners were in dark. Hugging myself to the banisters, I crept to the landing holding the bottle tight in my hands. As soon as I reached the first-floor landing, I quickly turned, holding my eyes away from the shadows, and started going down the flight of stairs leading to the ground floor below.”

“It is then that I felt it. Something, it seemed, detached itself from the shadows at the landing and came up to my back, about two steps behind.”

“I froze. The fear choking me. In that numbing fear, I did what my body dictated mechanically.”

“I kept on going, looking fixedly down and ahead at the next steps to be crossed. Never for once, did I look back.”

“With eyes lowered, I went to the tap, slowly filled it and without raising my eyes, started walking back.”

“It was there, all the time, just about two to four steps behind my back.”

“I cannot recall much after that. My mind was numbed with fear; the body, as I said, only acting mechanically.”

“Looking fixedly down, I climbed up the staircase. That thing remained there, all the time behind my back.”

“I remember that once I reached the first-floor landing, and turned, I kind of quickened my steps going up to the second-floor landing where the door to our corridor stood open.”

“As I headed up the second flight of stairs, mercifully, that dreadful feeling of the presence behind my back ceased. I nearly ran up to the second landing and rushed to the open door.”

“Why I did so, I do not know; but as I entered the door to our corridor, my eyes went to the first floor landing which was partly visible from where I stood.”

“I saw a tall wispy figure, as if in white drape in the shadows against the wall. Only one thing I could clearly make out which was that the figure was dressed in a nun’s habit.”

“I fled down the corridor clutching the water bottle. As soon as I reached the room, I turned and bolted the doors.”

“I was panting, drenched with sweat, my breath coming in great painful gulps. I don’t know when I was able to gather myself. But when I did so, I immediately went to Jyoti and checked upon her. She seemed to be even worse and would not open her eyes.”

“I soaked my handkerchief in the water I had brought and started sponging her. While I was in my third sponge that I froze again; my hair rising. Just outside the locked door, I could feel the presence again. I tried to pray and found the words difficult to come.”

“Jyoti was in a delirium now. Maybe it was her condition which gave me strength. The words of the prayer started coming. Slowly I started saying them out aloud.”

“There were footfalls in the corridor outside now. Light but unmistakeable footfalls. It would go up the corridor and then come back towards our door again; pausing and then the words would start choking in my throat again. Jyoti was now ranting and her body burning with fever. I tried to focus on her, on her morbidly pale face now in the lamplight. Doing so helped and I went on sponging her and praying. Sometime later on, the footfalls faded. But I still felt the stifling presence in the corridor outside.”

“By and by, it started receding. First the presence. I could feel it no longer. Then the fever. It started coming down. Somewhere in between, Jyoti opened her eyes and asked for water again. Then she fell heavily asleep; the fever gone. I kept sitting by her bedside and praying.”

“I don’t know when I fell asleep. I awoke to the sound of banging of our door and the voice of sister outside calling our name.”

“I got up and opened the door. The bright daylight outside made the whole episode of last night unbelievable but yet all the more scary!”

“What’s all this! Why didn’t you two come down for breakfast? Why are you sleeping till so late!” The sister was visibly displeased and irritated.

“Hurriedly I told her about last night. By this time jyoti too had woken up; sitting up in her bed but looking weak.”

“The sister went and checked her pulse. They took her to a doctor. She was alright; but as I said, quite weak.”

“We were shifted to the Western Wing. After a couple of days, Jyoti’s father came to collect her and she went home for the remaining vacation.”