Mukesh, the area sales manager dropped me at the station around seven in the evening although my train was scheduled at nine. He was very insistent that I have dinner with him but I refused because in an earlier instant, I had missed this train for stopping to have dinner. I wanted to make sure to catch the train this time. I went to the railway catering canteen and had my simple dinner of egg curry and rice with a bowl of curd. Then I went straight to the platform, selected a bench and sat down waiting for the train to Howrah.

There weren’t many people on the platform, I observed them for a while and noticed the thinning of the crowd as the evening progressed to embrace the night, then started playing solitaire on my phone. After a while, I realized someone was sitting on the other corner of the bench. I looked up to measure the person, I have heard weird stories of strangers turning into thieves, stealing your valuable. The person seemed harmless, in his fifties, wearing a white bush shirt and a dark color trousers, carrying a overnight bag. He too looked at me and said, “Hello, are you waiting for the train to Howrah?”

“Yes, hope it is running on time.”

There were a few minutes of awkward silence then the person broke it. “I am Abinash Chowdhury. I have a garment shop in Gariahata by the name Abhilasha.”

I told him my name and the company I worked for and the reason of my visit to the city. Then asked, “Did you come here on business or visiting some relations?”

“Oh, it’s a personal visit. I don’t have any relations living here. I have been wanting to come here once at least to thank a special person but couldn’t due to business pressure. I was late in reaching here.” Abinash Chowdhury sighed.

I did not know what to say or how to react. It was obvious that the person he had come to meet is no more but I was intrigued to know the story. The train was still more than an hour away. I looked at him with an expression of interest hoping he will speak up and narrate his story. He got the wind of my thought and spoke, “It’s a long story that happened many years ago, I was probably your age then. I used to work with a pharma company, touring at least twenty days every month.” He stopped abruptly and looked up at me to see if I am still interested or getting bored already.

“Please tell me in details, it seems you have many stories up your sleeves from your pharma days.” I tried to prod him to narrate the story.

“Not many but this one changed the destiny of my life. I had come to thank the person but couldn’t find him, I am late by few months… okay, listen to this, but first tell me do you believe in ghost or paranormal activities?”

“I neither believe nor disbelieve. I think there are something or certain instances which are beyond our comprehension but cannot be junked away.”

Abinash Chowdhury seemed satisfied with my answer and started his story…

It was a long time ago, 20 years perhaps, I was a medical rep with a multi-national pharma company and my geographical area was unified Bihar. My tours usually lasted for 20-22 days at a stretch, difficult to be away from home for both my family as well as me… I used to call home every few days to check if everything was fine at home. During one such call from Tata Nagar, my wife told me that my son, Agastya was not well, running high temperature, doctors suspecting dengue. I immediately decided to return home and told my manager about the emergency at home.

The bus was supposed to reach here around seven in the evening, allowing me to catch the nine o’clock train to Howrah but on the way, the bus suffered a tyre puncture. It took over an hour to replace the flat tyre and by the time we reached here, the train had long left the station. I was on despair, the next train was in the early morning, so I decided to check into a hotel close to the station. There were many but all of them were fully booked, completely exhausted, I reached the last hotel on the street and pleaded with the manager, “I desperately need to sleep the night, I will leave in the early morning, please, any room will do.”

The manager was busy with his book-keeping and without raising his head, said, “We don’t have any room, all are fully booked.”

“Please, kindly check, there must be one or I can sleep on the couch here.” I insisted.

The manager looked up to size me then started to say something but was interrupted by the bell-boy, “Sir, what about room number 12?”

The manager hesitated and then said, “We do have a room, number 12 but it’s not in good condition, I can allocate that for you. But remember, you will be responsible for whatever happens.”

I was so exhausted and desperate for a room to relax that I completely ignored his last comment. The bell-boy took the key of room number 12 on the first floor of Embassy Hotel. Reaching the corridor, he handed me the keys and pointed to the end of the corridor and said, “The room is at the end on the right side.” He went down to the reception without another word but I could sense fear in his eyes. The lights on the corridor were of low power hardly illuminating the path.

I trudged my suitcase to the end of the corridor and took out the key to open the door but it was open already. I knocked on the door, just in case someone was inside but no one answered. I entered the dark room and searched for the switch, just then a voice in a hushed tone spoke, “Please don’t switch on the lights, I can’t tolerate the lights.”

“I can’t see in the darkness; how will I get to the bed?” I asked the voice in the darkness.

“Don’t worry, I will guide you. If you stretch your right arm, you will feel the wall, walk five steps forward and you will reach your bed. The bedside table has a water bottle and a glass.”

I followed the instruction and truly found the bed. I placed my suitcase along the wall and sat down on the bed. Once I got accustomed to the darkness, realized that there’s a very feint street light coming through the curtained window. I tried to locate the source of the voice, I could only make out a hazy, smoky figure sitting on the desk chair at the far side but I wasn’t sure, it could be an illusion out of my fatigue. The next question from the stranger shocked me.

“You found the bed; did you lie down? You must be very tired after the day’s events.”

I could not make out if the voice is coming from the chair as I thought. It was subdued but soothing. I replied hoping to see the source of the voice, “Yes, it has been a tiring day and the bus journey from Tata Nagar is harrowing and exhausting.”

“Yes, pharma sales is very taxing, you have to meet the doctors and then the pharmacies to sell your products, the targets are always very steep.”

“Hey, how did you know that I work in pharma industry? I didn’t tell you.”

“Well, I know a lot about you that may surprise you.”

“Like what?” I was intrigued.

“The briefcase you are carrying is typical that medical reps carry. The attire, including the neck-tie says that you are in sales and marketing function.”

“You saw all that in this darkness? And yes, I am carrying the suitcase because I wanted to go back to Calcutta today urgently.”

“I know that too. You missed the train due to the mishap of the bus you were traveling.”

I was completely taken aback. “How do you know that?”

“Isn’t it obvious? There are no trains at this time and problems with bus’s are pretty common.”

I tried to see the source of the voice in the near darkness of the room but the vision was blurry as far as I could see. I was feeling uneasy talking in the air but continued, “I had planned two days in Tata Nagar but the call with my wife made me change…”

“Yes, your son is very unwell, probably has dengue fever, you must be worried. He will be fine soon.”

By this time, I was not only feeling uneasy but scared as well. How the hell he knows so much about me. Is there really somebody in the room or am I talking to a spirit?

“I do not have any attachment with family anymore.” The voice interrupted my thoughts and continued, “Once, my son was my universe, I had many wonderful dreams around his future but he got involved in the extreme left politics. During a violent agitation, he fell victim to police encounter. His mother could not come to the terms and passed away shortly after suffering cardiac seizure. I lost interest in life, alone, I would roam from one place to another, visit places of worship to find solace but nowhere, no one could offer any. Then one day in the evening I was walking down the road without any purpose, before I could realize, I had crossed the level crossing and was standing on the railway track, the driver of the train had no way to stop.”

The atmosphere inside the room became heavy. I didn’t know how to respond, moreover, I realized, all this while my conversation was not with any person of flesh and blood but someone or something that is beyond any feelings, simply beyond your reaches, your grasp.

My thoughts once again was interrupted by the heavy foot steps on the corridor and banging on the door… “Open the door, police here.” I opened the door and three-four police with guns entered, one of them switched on the lights. In the flood of light, I was the lone occupier of the room.

“What’s your name? Where are you coming from? Show your ID.” The inspector rapidly asked.

I told him my story along with the fact that I have to catch the 6 am train to Howrah. It seems that there have been a incidence of robbery where the assailant had stabbed the victim dead and fled from the police net. It was suspected that he may be hiding in one of the hotels.

All the guests of the hotel were asked to assemble at the lobby and was thoroughly interrogated. By the time it was over, the skies had lighted up. The inspector, as luck would have it was the cousin brother of my friend. He offered to drop me at the station.

There was a long queue at the ticket counter, I bought a first-class ticket to avoid the crowded compartments of general category. As I entered the platform, I could hear the guard signaling with a long whistle and the train started rolling out of the platform. I could have still caught the train if I wasn’t carrying two bags in either hand. I still made an attempt running after the train. The started to pick-up speed and then suddenly came to a halt with hard braking sound. I had one chance to get on the train and threw my bags in through the open doors of the guard’s cabin and then jumped in as the train started to move again. I was breathless. The middle-aged guard offered me some water to calm down.

“Sorry to barge in like this, I have a first-class ticket but almost missed the train. Thanks for stopping.”

“That’s okay, you can go to the first-class at the next station. I have no role in stopping the train. Something strange happened as the train was passing the level-crossing, a disheveled man suddenly appeared in front of the train, the motorman saw and applied the emergency brake but run over the man. A thorough search under the engine and first compartment was carried out but there was no one underneath the train. It seems both the motormen saw the person in front of the train, it can’t be a mistake but forget about a body, not even a scrap of cloth was found.”

The guard looked at me and on lighter note said, “It seems the person wanted you to get on this train.”

I had no energy or desire to narrate my experience of the night. At the next station, I moved to the first-class coach, selecting an upper birth and slept through the journey. I reached just in time to take my son to the hospital and he recovered after a few days. I don’t know if my son would have survived if I had missed the train that day. I left my pharma job and started the garment business just to be with my family. I had thought of coming back to the room number 12 to thank the person but got busy with life and business. Now, my son is old enough to manage the shop alone for few days, so I came here in the hope of meeting the voice and say ‘thank you’. But I am six months too late, the Embassy Hotel building has been demolished and a new structure is coming up.

Abinash Chowdhury finished his story and the platform bell announced the arrival of our train to Howrah.