“It has been quite some time that we have taken a road trip, let’s plan for the coming long weekend of Independence Day.” I suggested.

We, the four of us, Topshe, Gora, Pulki and I were meeting for our monthly lunch get-together at the newly opened Bengali speciality restaurant called Bangaliyan at Dwarka Sector 12. We had a fulfilling lunch of typical Bengali cuisine and were waiting to settle the bill.

“We are open to the idea; in any case Gora and I are retired with all the time on earth.” Pulki added. It was agreed that Topshe will finalize the plan and we will go in my Jeep Compass, only four of us. I had my Jeep serviced and ready for the long drive.

Topshe got into the act immediately and after few consultative video-calls over the next few days, it was decided to go to Lansdowne, a relatively less commercialized hill station near Delhi. Topshe found a homestay and booked two rooms for us. The distance between Delhi to Lansdowne is approx. 250 km and takes about 7 hours to reach.   

On Thursday early morning we left for Lansdowne taking the Delhi-Meerut Expressway. We stopped at the midway food-court for breakfast and were on our way in less than an hour. We wanted to reach our destination well before the sunset.

Our journey was uneventful except the restaurant we stopped for lunch; they took enormous time in serving our food but the excellent taste and portion compensated the waiting. We reached Wilkinson Lodge, the homestay selected by Topshe, it was a old building with lush green garden and spread-out lawn but seemed to be unoccupied. We weren’t sure if we had made the right choice but at thousand rupees per night per room was a steal in the season time. I honked driving up to the gate and an old man, must be in his seventies came out to open the gate. I drove inside and parked under the canopy as directed by the old man.

“Namaskar, I am Murari Lal, the caretaker of this place. Sahib, where are you coming from?”

“Namaskar, we are coming from Delhi. We have a booking for two rooms for two nights. I have spoken to Sushil Babu and he said two rooms should be ready for us.”

“Yes Sahib, Sushil Saheb said you guys will be coming that I should take good care of you all. Please come inside select your rooms, there are six bedrooms, two on the ground floor and four on the first floor beside a hall, dining room and kitchen. There’s a lounge on the first floor as well.”

We went inside and after checking the rooms, selected two rooms on the first floor with balconies and scenic view of the mountains and valley.

“I will arrange tea and snacks for you.” Murari said and waited for our response. Gora understood and gave him some money for the same. Murari went away to arrange the refreshment. Looking at the place and the old man, we realised, we have to arrange for our own meals, luckily, we have seen a decent restaurant not more than 250 metres from here with signboard stating availability of breakfast, lunch and dinner. The customer footfall suggested it to be a well running place with fresh foods.

Murari came back with tea in flask and paper bag of samosas. There was enough for him as well and we gave him a portion of both items. Thereafter, we went out for stroll down the road and reached a high point from where the view of the valley and the mountain range was breathtaking prompting us to become ace photographers. We saw the sun set over the horizon and started on our way back.

“Before we go in the house, let’s check the restaurant and find out till when they are open.” Gora suggested and we went over to the Valley View Restaurant. The manager confirmed that the place is open till 11 at night and opens at 8 in the morning. He even suggested that he can deliver the food at our homestay and gave us the menu-card with phone number to place the order.

With the day light gone, the Wilkinson Lodge looked quite different, all the greens had become black in the dark and the building in white stood stark in contrast. The light from the porch barely lit up the area and we had to use the phone torch to see the path from the gate to the porch. As we came up on the porch, a black-n-white cat jumped from one of the easy chairs and vanished in the darkness towards the outhouse where Murari lives. We thought it to be his pet and did not give much thought, though the sudden appearance of it had surprised us.

In the next two hours, we played our favourite card game, TwentyNine and had the Single Malt that I had carried with me, along with the chakhnas brought by Topshe. Around 9 o’clock, we decided to walk down to the restaurant for dinner. In the hills, the nights are longer than the day and 9 pm feels like midnight with not a single person on the road. The restaurant had few tables occupied with people like us, out for dinner from the nearby hotels and homestays.  

We had a leisurely dinner of chicken masala, dal tadka, aloo-gobi sabji and tandoori roti and came back to our homestay when the watch told us it was past 10 o’clock. We were tired, so called it a day. Gora and Topshe were in one room while I shared the room with Pulak. We changed into our nightwear and switched off the lights except the bathroom light which acted as a night lamp. Pulak sleeps soundly and quickly while it takes me a while to fall asleep, even when I tired.

The loud bell of the grandfather clock in the hall woke me up, it announced the time to be 2 am. Once the sound stopped, another noise started pouring in from the roof, some people were playing with bamboo stick running from one end to the other. I was certain that we are being attacked by a gang of goons with sticks. Pulak was sleeping soundly; I switched on the bedside lamp between the two beds and softly called him. He did not even stir, so I poked him to wake him. Pulak looked at me questioningly, I gestured him to listen to the sound but it had stopped. We waited silently for the sound but nothing, it seemed that those making the noise were aware that we have woken up and retreated.

In the morning, while we were having breakfast, I broached the topic of the noise coming from the roof and how it stopped when I woke up Pulak.

“Oh, you also heard it, I thought it was only me.” Gora spoke and then added, “I switched on the room light and woke up Topshe and immediately the noise stopped.

We decided to check with Murari if he knows anything about it. Topshe commented, “I doubt if he is aware of any sound, he usually has half a bottle of liquor every evening and after that nothing bothers him, even a bomb blast will not wake him up.”

“How do you know that?” I asked.

“In the morning, when you guys were getting ready, I was on the balcony and saw him taking a bagful of empty bottles somewhere, probably to sell them to the scrap dealer or bootlegger.”

When returned to the Wilkinson Lodge, the caretaker Murari was nowhere to be seen, probably buying his stock after selling the empty bottles. We took the jeep for sightseeing, Topshe the master organizer, had a list of ‘must visit places’ and we left for our first destination, Bheem Pakora.

Bheem Pakora has nothing to do with the pakoras (fritters), there aren’t any shop there even, it is just few rocks/ boulders placed on top of each other apparently balancing on their own without any cement or concrete joining them. Next, we visited Bhulla Taal, a tranquil artificial lake set amidst hilly lawns and tall trees with walking tracks around the lake and boat rentals. We took a boat ride lasting about 15 minutes covering the perimeter of the lake.

It was time to visit the religious places as per the wish of my dear friends, so we headed for the Shri Tadakeshwar Dham Mandir. Situated 38 km from the town, it is a Hindu Mandir dedicated to the deity of Shiva in a tranquil natural setting with tall pine and cedar trees. There were lots of devotees lining up for darshan, some with offerings of flower and fruits. Pulak and Gora bought a tray of puja offerings and went inside. I stayed out watching over their shoes. Topshe had into photographer mode clicking pictures at every angle. It took them 30 minutes to do the puja and we were on our way to Bhalugarh Waterfall on the Rishikesh Road.

We wanted to check out the Kalagarh Tiger Reserve but we were in between the safari timings and not permitted to enter in our private vehicle. Kalagarh Tiger Reserve is part of the Corbette National Park falling in the north zone. We were feeling hungry, so we stopped at a roadside eatery for lunch.

Before going back to our homestay, we visited centuries old Kaleshwar Mahadev Temple and St. Mary’s Church (1896) where we saw the exhibits showcasing the local military history. Our last point of visit was the Snow View Point where one can see the panoramic view of the Shivalik range interspersed with the Himalayan range in the distance. The snow peaked mountains are simply enchanting.

When we reached back, a rich aroma of simple Aloo-Matar sabji emanated from the outhouse of Murari. Topshe and Gora went over to check or probably to taste it. Pulak and I went up to our room. We realised Murari had cleaned the room and changed the bed-sheet and kept a fresh towel set, the extra money that Gora gave him has done its job.

Topshe and Gora came back and announced, “We will be having dinner here only, Murari has agreed to cook for us. We have given him money to get a chicken from the market. So, the dinner is going to be Aloo-Matar sabji, Chicken Curry desi style and rice.”

After we had relaxed and taken a power nap, went down to the dining room and spread out our playing cards for few rounds of Twenty-Nine while sipping on the Single Malt. The bottle was finished, so was our card game when Murari came and said that food is ready to serve. I must say, the sabji and chicken were one of the best I had in my many trips to the hills. They were not rich like the restaurant but full of aroma giving us a heavenly feel. I definitely over ate that evening because I started feeling sleepy due to the combination of the fine liquor and full tummy.

I woke up in the middle of night by the sound of grandfather clock announcing the time as 2 am. Once the bell stopped ringing, I tried to sleep again but what’s happening? There were noises coming from the hall below as if a party is going on with people speaking in hushed tone, music playing and wine glasses clinking. There were footsteps on the staircase as if some people were climbing up. I lay still waiting for the knock on the door. The footstep came up to the door and paused, then another footstep came up and it seemed that the first one went away with the second.

Pulak, on his own had woken up, we decided to go and check what’s happening in the hall. Are there new guests in the rest of the rooms? Did they come after we had retired for the day? We opened the door at the same time that Gora and Topshe too had come out. We were greeted by the overall darkness with feint light coming from the hall where we have kept one light on. We were shocked and chill of fear in our spine. We contemplated waking up Murari and asking him what’s happening, when we saw Murari coming in from the main door. He came up, “What’s the matter Sahib? Why are you all awake at this hour?” We told him about the happenings of last two nights precisely at 2 am when the grandfather clock chimed twice.

“What grandfather clock, Sahib? That clock has stopped working long ago, I have told Sushil Saheb to get it repaired but it stands just as a showpiece.”

“And what about the stick dance on the roof and the party in the hall.”

“Please get inside the room, I will tell you what I know.”

Once we gathered in our room, Murari came and sat on the floor near the door and started his story.

“This house was built by Thomas Wilkinson in the beginning of the twentieth century. He was in the govt service, probably an advocate and his wife Dorothy was the teacher at the Cathedral School. They had a son named Richard married to Catherine, the daughter of the police commissioner. Richard was in the army, a Major and Catherine used run bakery shop in the city. The family was at peace and happy, Richard being in the army, was mostly away from home, leaving the three of them.

Now, this house was away from the city, secluded in the middle of jungle, so Thomas Wilkinson arranged for local guards who instead of fire arms, given bamboo sticks to ward off any danger. One night when four of the guards were on duty, this place was under attack of tigers, the guards fought them with sticks but were no match to the power of jaws. They all died, the tigers took them deep into the jungle. In the morning, only their tattered blood-stained clothes remained as witness. After that, Richard arranged for armed guards. Those native guards used to practice their skills on the roof of the house and still does on certain nights.”

Murari stopped to breath, Gora offered him water bottle and gulped down half of it.

“There was a party to celebrate the 50^th wedding anniversary of Thomas and Dorothy, many respected citizens were invited, plenty of food and overflowing drinks galore that night. Amongst the invitees was Derek, a close friend of Richard. It seems, in the absence of Richard, his wife Catherine had developed intimacy with Derek. They were seen together at many an occasion, having lunch and tea. Most people thought that Richard’s best friend is keeping company with his sister-in-law but few could figure out the deeper relation and rumours started doing the rounds. As inevitable, the news the ears of Richard who confronted his wife but she flatly refused the allegation.

On the night of the party, Richard kept a sharp eye on both Catherine and Derek but they hoodwinked him and came into this room to spend few private moments. Richard found out, fight ensued between him and Derek, in the fit of rage, he took out his service gun and shot Derek dead, Catherine tried to stop him and shot too. There, in the party, the police commissioner was present, seeing his daughter die in front of his eyes, he couldn’t control himself and killed Richard. Thereafter, chaos prevailed with some taking out their weapons and others with bare hand attacking each other on frivolous issues. Soon, it turned into a battle field where everyone perished. The happy celebratory evening turned into a mourning house. That was a new moon night. The Wilkinson House comes alive every new moon night since then.   

The property remained locked and abandoned in ruins for years, then Sushil Babu, bought it at an auction, renovated and stayed here for few days before converting it in a hotel, naming it after the original owner, The Wilkinson Lodge.”

“How do you know all this? You were probably a child when all this happened.” I asked.

“Well, I did not know initially, but then I got to know… leave it Sir. The morning is still hours away, you people sleep now, I too should go back to my place.”

We could hardly sleep rest of the night and got ready early in the morning for our return journey. Topshe and Pulak went to the outhouse to return the keys of the room to Murari but the outhouse was locked. We wondered, where Murari has gone so early in the morning. We left the keys on a nail next to the outhouse door along with a currency note of 500 denominations as tips for Murari.

After crossing Kotdwar, we stopped at the Punjabi Dhaba for breakfast of hot stuffed parathas. We had almost finished our meal when, Topshe received a message on his phone. He checked, blood draining out from his face, he pushed the phone towards Gora. As he read it, his hands started shaking, I took the phone from his shaking hand and read it.

“Dear Sir, extremely sorry for the inconvenience caused to you. I got to know very late that the caretaker of the Wilkinson Lodge, Manohar had gone to his village to check on his ailing daughter and got stuck due to landslide. Hope, you managed another accommodation in Lansdowne. I will be returning your money soon.” Signed, Sushil Chauhan, the owner of The Wilkinson Lodge.

We looked at each other without a word, all of us had the same question in our minds, “Who was the person at the Wilkinson Lodge who we met as caretaker?” We may never know.