By the time I reached the station gate, I saw the train leaving the platform. It’s a small station of a village where only passenger trains stop and the frequency is very low. I looked at my watch, it showed a little over 5 pm and the next train to Kolkata (Calcutta) is now expected around 8 pm, I have to kill 3 hours in this deserted place, its not only painful but boring as well with no one to talk and nothing to see except the open field across the platform with sparse vegetation. I had come on official work at the Panchayat Office of the cluster of villages few kilometres away. I would have reached on time but the Panchayat Head insisted on having lunch at his home and then the only transport of the village, a cycle rickshaw had a tyre puncture forcing me to walk the distance to the station. I was feeling a bit exhausted from the brisk walk and frustrated at missing the train.

I entered the platform, it’s small with a room/ office of the Station Master and a ticket counter on one side and the other side a large shade for the luggage/ parcels, in the centre of the platform are two benches for the waiting passengers to rest. I sat down on one of the benches and stared across the platform through the open field. I don’t know when and how long I had been dozing but was awakened by the voice, “Where do you want to go?” I looked up to find a middle-aged person in black coat and white trousers looking at me inquisitively, must be the Station Master and may have got interested looking at my urban dressing style. “Kolkata” I replied. “Oh, you missed the train, now the next one is expected at 8 pm” he spoke with concern. “You seem to be a city dweller, where did you visit?” he continued with his query. “I came to visit the Panchayat Office for a meeting with the Panchayat Head, Akhil Babu and he insisted on having lunch with him which delayed me otherwise I would have caught the train” I replied. “He is my maternal cousin, please come to office, we can talk and relax till your train comes. We are village people, hardly ever leave the station, and let alone visiting a city like Kolkata, please tell me about the city” the Station Master said with enthusiasm.

I followed him to his office; it was filled with old furniture and files and had a smell of dust all around. He pushed a chair towards me to sit, there was a bench near the wall for the visitors to sit. The Station Master, Binod Babu, sat on his chair which had seen better days, now it was missing one arm, but Binod Babu seemed comfortable. He took out a packet of Bidi, a indigenous smoking stick of tobacco rolled in tendu or temburni leaf and tied with a string or adhesive, and offered me. I declined as I am a non-smoker. “You, city dwellers prefer cigarette over the local bidi” Binod Babu observed. “No, no, I don’t smoke at all” I protested.

Binod Babu lit his Bidi and took a long puff releasing several rings of smoke and said, “I first had my Bidi while in school and father caught me…what a thrashing he gave me!! But, the habit continues till date. Oh, I almost forgot there’s some urgent work I have to attend. You relax here, I will join you soon.” I sat there and looked around, I couldn’t see any electricity connection in the room and it was getting darker as the evening progressed. After some time, Binod Babu came back with another person and apologised “Sorry, I kept you waiting for long”. Before I could respond, the person accompanying him spoke up, “I heard, you live in Kolkata… I had once gone there, some 20 years ago… had no road or location sense… wanted to visit Kalighat but ended up at Kolaghat.”

“Stop your Kolkata story, Abani. You have told us this story at least twenty times” Binod Babu snapped at the newcomer, Abani Babu.

“Please continue” I tried to put Abani Babu at ease but he gave a quick glance towards Binod Babu and said “Forget about me, let us hear about you and Kolkata”.  

As we were talking, a peon came in with a lantern and placed it on the table then asked, “Shall I get you some hot tea”?

“Yes, and also get some snacks as well” replied Binod Babu.

As the peon turned to go, another gentleman showed up at the door. “Please come in Narayan Babu” Binod Babu called enthusiastically. “Shall I get the snacks for 4 person then”? queried the peon.

“Isn’t that obvious” roared Binod Babu.

The person named Narayan Babu entered the room… he must be over sixty, slim and tall with darkish complexion. He looked at me and exclaimed, “I don’t think we have met before”. Before I could respond, Binod Babu introduced me and explained my predicament.

“So, you are from Kolkata, must be knowing the card game TwentyNine… there are four of us, perfect for the game. I have heard that people in Kolkata plays card game even while walking” Narayan Babu laughed heartily as others joined too.

Meanwhile, the peon came back with three cups of tea and four packets of Jhal Muri with Tele Bhaja (puffed rice preparation with pakoda) and placed the tray on the table. Narayan Babu picked up one packet of snacks while Binod Babu offered the tea to Abani Babu and me taking the third cup for himself. I felt little awkward and asked, “What about tea for Narayan Babu”?

Binod Babu and Abani Babu spoke together, “He won’t have tea. He’s scared of ghosts.”

“That’s strange… he won’t drink tea for fear of ghost”? I asked.

Abani Babu said, “That’s a funny story”.

“It’s not a story but true incident” Narayan Babu said with all seriousness.

“If you have no objections, please tell us about it… there’s still enough time before my train arrives”, I requested.

Abani Babu also joined in, “Don’t be angry Narayan, I was just joking… please tell us what happened”.

Narayan Babu relaxed a bit and relented…he looked out of the window in the darkness and began…

I am the witness to the incident that I am going to tell you, it happened many years ago during the British Raj/ Colonial Rule.

I have just started my job at the railways as an assistant in the engine room. It was a tough job of putting coal in the steam engine… sometimes we had to work continuously for 2-3 days at a stretch. We had to cook our own food, tea and sleep within the limited space inside the steam engine.

It was winter days when we were bringing a goods train full of tea leaves from Siliguri to Kolkata, the entire load was meant for Great Britain. There were four of us inside the engine room, the driver Maqbul Mian, a hefty six footer with matching body and strength, his co-driver, Ramratan Misra, almost reaching his retirement age and two coal feeder Poran Mondal and myself.

Narayan Babu helped himself with a mouthful of Jhal Muri and continued…

It was extremely cold night; we were shivering even with layers of warm clothes and the heat from the engine fire… I shivering uncontrollably, feeling sick, even sitting next to the engine furnace did not help. Maqbul saw that and said, “Why don’t you sleep for a while. I will manage the feeding. In fact, Ramratan Ji should also take a break”.

We found a corner to lie down and soon the vibration coupled with the noise of the engine helped us to get into a deep slumber. We woke up with a jolt as the train came to a stop. Maqbul confirmed that the signal is down indicating no passage. It was pitch dark outside and bone-chilling cold but nothing could be done, we were stranded in the middle of nowhere. In the pitch darkness the only lights came from the fireflies but the cold was making me sick again, probably a cup of tea can warm me up a bit. “Brother Poran, can you make some tea for us?” I requested.

Poran Mondal, probably just out of teenage, is jolly fellow and always ready to do any chores with a smile. He went to the pantry to boil the water and make tea. After a while declared that there’s no tea in the container, we have consumed the entire lot during the journey from Siliguri.

“We are carrying tea leaves in the wagons next to the engine” I spoke aloud.

“Right, you are” said Ramratan Ji “I will go and get some for us, I have seen one box is broken at the corner”.

 As Ramratan started to climb down, Poran joined him. Maqbul was uncomfortable with the whole idea and said, “I am worried about the inspector traveling in the guard room. He is not a good man and very vindictive. If he catches them, the situation can become very ugly”.

“But we are not stealing for money, only taking a little for our own consumption and that too from the spillage” I tried to reason with Maqbul.

“I know that but I am concerned about the train inspector, he is a devil incarnate,,, he won’t empathize” Maqbul replied still worried.

“He must be in deep sleep in the guard room” I tried to assure Maqbul as well as myself. Even I became a little worried about Ramratan Ji and Poran.

We went to the door to check but couldn’t see anything or anyone in the pitch darkness, maybe they are inside one the wagons. The fire in engine had dimmed so I fed coal into the furnace and sat near it to soak in some warmth of the engine heat.

Suddenly, there was a commotion outside and a loud voice, “Who is there? Identify yourself.” The voice no doubt belongs to the train inspector, the devil. He must be hiding somewhere nearby… and caught Ramratan and Poran as soon as they came out from the wagon.

Maqbul tried to intervene but the three of them came inside the engine room, the inspector holding Ramratan Ji by the collar. “This man of yours was stealing tea from the wagon” he barked at Maqbul.

“I did not steal, only took a little quantity from the spillage on the floor” protested Ramratan Ji.

“Yes, we did not steal, Ramratan Ji is telling the truth.” Poran echoed.

“Ramratan Ji is telling the truth. He had only gone to take a little portion of the tea for our own use… it is very cold here and we had run out of our stock. Please let him go, next week his daughter is getting married and it would create many problems if you arrest him for this minor issue” Maqbul tried to reason with the inspector.

“Lie, you were stealing the tea” the inspector was adamant. We were scared, Ramratan Ji was shivering in panic and had lost colour.

Maqbul looked straight in the eyes of the inspector and said, “If someone wants to steal, will he take only a handful or the full box? You are unnecessarily suspecting us.”

“Taking a handful of tea or a wagon full of tea, makes no difference, both are act of stealing only. I will file the report as soon as we reach the next station” the inspector shouted back at Maqbul.

“I won’t ever go anywhere near the wagon, please pardon me this time” Ramratan Ji cried out.

“You should have thought about it before stealing, now let’s go” saying this the inspector pushed Ramratan Ji towards the door.

If the inspector really files the complaint, Ramratan Ji will not only lose his job but even get jailed as well. I pleaded with the inspector, “Let it go Sir, please have mercy on him… next week his daughter is getting married, it will be scandalous if you arrest him now”.

The inspector looked at me with a devilish smile and said, “He did not think about it while stealing, now he will have to pay for his sin. Let’s go, the guard has given signal to move”.

Ramratan Ji cried again and grabbed the leg of the inspector, “You are my lord, please forgive me, I will never do such thing again”.

We knew the inspector was trying to take Ramratan Ji to his room for handing him over to the police at the next station. We felt helpless in front of the satanic inspector. Meanwhile, the guard blew the whistle indicating the line is clear to move forward. Ramratan Ji looked at Maqbul and pleaded, “Please help me Maqbul bhai”.

In that moment, Maqbul’s eyes suddenly turned bright and he swiftly moved between the inspector and Ramratan Ji and spoke in a grave voice, “Let him go inspector, don’t ruin his life for a handful of tea leaves”.

The inspector was taken aback by the demeanor of Maqbul and took a step back letting go of Ramratan Ji. “If I let go of him it will affect my career, I had caught two thieves earlier and this case will ensure my promotion” the inspector blurted out.

“Scoundrel, just for the promotion, you are trying to ruin the life of an innocent person?” Maqbul shouted at the inspector.

Maqbul was shivering from excitement and rage but the inspector had regained his composer and said menacingly, “Move out from my way, I will have you all arrested for theft and obstructing a police officer”.

Maqbul’s face distorted with anger and he looked very different person at that time. I have heard that his ancestors were dreaded dacoits once upon a time but he had chosen a civilized way of life. But now, the old blood somehow had entered his bloodstream, he moved forward catching the inspector by his arms and lifted him up, “You want your promotion, I will give you the promotion”, he hissed into the face of the inspector.

Maqbul no more a human, he had turned into a demon now, we were scared and completely stunned into inaction. Maqbul dragged the inspector towards the furnace, the inspector was scared too and pleaded with Maqbul, “Okay, I won’t arrest him, let me go…I don’t want any promotion”.

“What are you doing, Maqbul?” cried Ramratan Ji.

“I am promoting the inspector to the next level” Maqbul hissed.

Before any of us could react, Maqbul lifted up the inspector like a toy and threw him in the furnace. All we heard was the deafening cry of the inspector followed by the urgent whistle of the guard asking us to start the engine. Maqbul simply fed more coal in the furnace to energize and pulled the lever to begin the journey as if nothing has happened. The swiftness of the event and the nonchalant demeanor of Maqbul had turned us into stone sculpture.

The rest of the journey is completely blurred from my memory… I don’t remember how I reached home the following day but by evening I had very high fever which lasted for a week. When I went to work after ten days, there was complete chaos at the station. No one is willing to take charge of the engine no. 913. I shuddered, this is the same engine we operated that fateful night. The driver named Gomes was standing nearby and I went to him to find about the issue, “What’s the problem, Gomes?”

He looked at me strangely and said, “There’s a ghost in that engine”.

“What are you saying? Have you seen it yourself?”

“The night before yesterday I drove it and two days before that Gopal was driving it back and he told me. I thought he consumes Ganja so may have hallucinated”.

“There must have been other people in the engine no. 913, did they see or hear anything?”

“Yes, they too heard.”

“What did you hear when you were driving it?”

Gomes looked at me blankly, evidently there was fear in his eyes. He pulled me, “Let’s go and sit there. I will tell you, my experience.”

We sat down on a bench next to the parcel room, Gomes lit up a cigarette, took a few puffs to calm his nerve and said, “I don’t believe in the existence of ghosts. I did not believe what Gopal told me either. That night we picked up the load and left Siliguri on time. As the evening progressed, the darkness enveloped, the atmosphere inside the engine room became heavy, I could find no reason for it but we all felt some discomfort. It was not just the chill but something more as if something is trying to strangle us, we were feeling breathless. Suddenly, the engine coughed and gave jerks, I thought there must be something on the track, so I applied the break but the engine did not stop, it kept going at the same speed”.

“What happened next?”

“As the engine accelerated, we could feel putrid smell of burning flesh coming from the furnace. It was suffocating, I started sweating even in that chilly night, I thought I will faint. The fire in the furnace was low so I fed coal in it, the furnace lit up instantly and there was a deafening cry of someone coming from the furnace. I couldn’t make out what the crying voice was saying but Ratul, my assistant heard someone saying ‘leave me please, I don’t want any promotion’. Fear of unknown was gripping me, making me turn into a statue unable to move an inch. Then suddenly something pushed me with a strong force and I fell to the floor. Ratul, my assistant too was lying next to me, his face drained of blood. The engine continued to run as if nothing has happened”.

Gomes took few more puffs and continued, “Somehow, we managed to bring the train here and narrated our experience but no one believed us. Yesterday, a new team took out the engine no.913, this morning they came back with two of their member in a critical health. Now, no one is ready to drive the engine no.913.”

“My mouth had become dry, unable to offer any words to Gomes, I left him there and came back home. Next day I resigned from my job at the railways and also gave up on tea.” Narain Babu concluded with a sigh.

There was a complete silence in the room for some time, then Binod Babu looked at his watch and said to me, “Let’s go, it’s time for your train to Kolkata”.