Posted on by Aranyascope

Healthy Eating Bong Way

Bengalis have been doing “healthy eating” long before it became an Instagram trend.

Our detox starts with নিম-বেগুন and উচ্ছে ভাজা, শুক্তু and not green juice or green tea.
Our multivitamin is লাল শাক, পুঁই শাক, কুমড়ো শাক, পালং শাক, হেলঞ্চা শাক, মেথি শাক and can name a few more but not kale .
Our protein comes from ডাল আর ডালের বড়ি, not powder shakes.
Our omega-3 and vitamin d are from মাছের ঝোল, not capsules.

And talk of Sundays – the sacred day of খাসির মাংস! It’s not a meal; it’s a festival — a ritual of togetherness, love and laughter, and that inevitable দু-পিস আলু that reigns supreme in every gravy. Because আলু isn’t just an ingredient; it’s an emotion for a বাঙালি soul . A Bengali curry without আলু is an unforgivable sin.

Our চাটনি is not only sweet it has ingredients like nuts and dry fruits and is nothing less than any digestive aids.

Our মিষ্টি দই, is a probiotic desert, of course served with love.

So yes, our food has it all — তেতো দিয়ে পরিষ্কার, শাক দিয়ে পুষ্টি, ডাল দিয়ে শক্তি, মাছ দিয়ে গ্লো, মাংস দিয়ে এনার্জি, চাটনি দিয়ে হজম, আর দই দিয়ে আরোগ্য।

In truth, বাঙালির রান্না মানেই balanced diet with added emotion — a little তেতো for wisdom, a little মিষ্টি for hope, and a lot of সর্ষের তেল for attitude! 😀😀

The sad part is that we have traded it all for avocado toasts and coffee shop culture. The once-thoughtful, home-cooked বাঙালি খাবার is now lost in the maze of oily বিরিয়ানি and wrap menus. The mighty শুক্ত has been replaced by nuggets, and মাছের তেল has surrendered to burger grease.

(collected)

Posted on by Aranyascope

Howdy Buddy

Howdy Buddy?

Am Good.

Ever since I have come of age, “Am good” has been my standard response to “Howdy buddy”. Even when I am in pain or distress. I was trained to hide my discomfort not by anybody but the circumstances and environment around my growing up years. The only person to whom I could confide about my physical and/or mental distress was my mother and she’s long gone, forever.

The festival season in India begins with the arrival of Lord Ganesh… Shree Ganesh Chaturthi till the English New Year. Then of course there is Sankranti followed by Saraswati Puja culminating in the festival of colours, Holi. Over six months of celebrations.

There’s an interesting story narrated by my mother… Lord Ganesh was upset when his human head had to be replaced with an elephant head, he felt, no one will respect or pray to him as he was deformed. His father, Lord Shiva arranged for a race between him and his brother Kartikeya to circumnavigate the universe and whoever wins the race will be have the honour of being Pratham Pujya or the first to be worshipped. Lord Kartikeya started off on his Peacock and took an early lead but Lord Ganesh stayed back and simply circled around his parents Lord Shiva and Goddess Parvati. He declared, “My parents are my universe.” Impressed by his wisdom, Lord Shiva granted him the boon of being the Pratham Pujya. He further declared him to be the Vighnaharta, the remover of all obstacles which is why Lord Ganesh is invoked before starting anything new. Jai Ganesh. Jai Vighnaharta.

The festival season is supposed to be of merriment and joyous occasion; however, I invariably get emotionally charged and depressed during this time. As I am not a person to confide my thoughts to others including my partner, I tried to figure out the reason.

The emotional blackout resulting in deep depression stems from my childhood. I was the seventh child and that too accidental, totally unplanned. My other siblings were born in quick succession with max gap of four years whereas I have a clear difference of at least seven years from my elder sibling. And my birth did not bring any joy to the family instead it brought discomfort and misery. My father lost his job at the bank and had to settle for a job at one-fourth the salary, finding it difficult to feed so many mouths. Overnight we slipped into poverty from being affluent.

I remember going to the “ration shop” with my father and brothers to get our staples of rice, pulses and wheat which used to be sub-standard, full of pebbles and sand. My mother and elder sisters would painstakingly clean them before use. We lived in a forty-square-feet, two room house where one corner of the first room doubled up as kitchen. Cooking used to be on coal fired angithee or oven which made my mother an asthma patient in later years. The word or concept of luxury was not in our dictionary; we survived on a day-to-day basis. We were not supposed to get unwell as that would mean spending scarce resources on medicine. But as fate would have it, my father became very sick with stomach ulcers that caused him extreme pain and discomfort not to mention the high cost of medications. He suffered for almost ten long years before getting relief from Unani medicines from the senior Hakim of Hamdard.

In such an environment, the festival of Durga Puja brought gloom over the family, not joy. The friends or the peer group would flaunt their new clothes… one new outfit for each day of puja when we could barely have one set for the entire duration. As I grew up, I became conscious about our predicament and I would become depressed with emotional outbursts. Today, affordability is not a concern but the pain is different, missing the ones that were dear to the heart. This depression is chronic without relief.   

The situation improved partially when my eldest sister and brother started working after their college and two other sisters got married to their boyfriends. My parents grudgingly accepted but I have a suspicion that they sighed with relief as well.   

I particularly remember one afternoon, when at the lunch, mother informed there is only dal-chawal and no sabji. I started crying. My mother went to a neighbour to borrow a potato to make some fries for me. Whenever I think about that afternoon, I am drowned in utter shame.

Another instance that makes me feel ashamed of myself happened years later in my teenage years. Most of my friends in school would go to Kolkata (then Calcutta) during the summer break to their relatives. We too had relatives from both parent’s side but the cost of making such a journey deterred us. Anyways, it was the summer break after the class-10 exams when a close friend was going alone to Calcutta and he urged me to go along with him. He was not privy to my financial constraints and kept prodding me. Unable to resist I demanded my parents to provide the funds for the trip. My friend’s parent insisted on traveling by Rajdhani Express with just three in-between stoppages of less than 5 minutes, a safer journey but much more expensive compared to the other trains. My father provided the funds which I did not ask from where or how then but much later, when he had left this world, I suspected was it was borrowed from some source. I did not mean to embarrass him but inadvertently by my stubbornness and immaturity, I did. And worst of it I never said sorry to him.

It is not that I did not have fun, joyous moments growing up, there were a quite a few occasions that brought happiness in our life but they were few and far between. We used to have great times whenever my maternal uncle visited us. Also, I had memorable time when I first met my (maternal) grandparents. In their own way they spoilt me throughout my stay with them. Happy memories.

I being the youngest of the lot, had the privilege of observing the elders, both their wisdom and follies. As an individual, I have strived to use their wisdom and shun their follies from my life. As a struggling family, there wasn’t much thoughts about higher education or career development. The living thought was to complete the college degree and find a job, any job. Only the collective money could improve our lifestyle. That was the thought of the time. There was no one to guide or show a path to the youths to go for higher education or even attempt to become a govt/ bank officer. All my siblings started working at the lowest rung in private organisations taking years to climb up the ladder. I was no exception. I did try to become a Chartered Accountant (CA) and appeared for the entrance exam failing in one subject by two marks. There was no one to push or encourage to try again.

However, I was lucky to have two excellent teachers or as I call them Gurus, who poured their knowledge onto me and taught me the fundamentals of marketing and management in real world. Their teachings surpassed the teachings of the management institute where I got my post-grad diploma in management. The diploma has remained a piece of paper only to add a line on my resume.

My friends and family are blessed with one advantage – faith in something or someone superior in whatever manifestation. Whenever they are in distress or otherwise, they pray to that power. They feel inner peace. I do not recall when I last prayed. I simply cannot bring myself to ask any favour or boon from something or someone who’s existence, I find questionable. I do not pray; I do penance for living in this world by accident. I strongly feel, I don’t deserve to be here.

Why am I telling you all these things?

Because, year after year during the festive time, my inner demon haunts me with these thoughts. I have grown intellectually as well as materialistically to know that there’s no point in pondering over the past. But on a rainy evening, when it gets dark, I experience inexplicable panic. I don’t share my fear. I don’t share my thoughts. I don’t speak out. I understand in this world filled with noise and chaos, silence is golden. Less I speak, it brings peace around me now. And that’s how I shall drift away.

But then you ask me, “Howdy Buddy?”

I reply with a feeble smile, “Am Good.”  

Posted on by Aranyascope

Threat to the City

The month of August in Delhi has been acting peculiarly, it’s nice and breezy when it is raining but the moment the rain stops it is unbearably humid prompting Sravani to switch on the air conditioner. Rudro has come home after almost 3 months training at a undisclosed location. He is looking fitter than when he was transferred back from Kolkata to the Special Task Force of National Security Agency. They were sitting in their new 3-bedroom apartment on the 10th floor, a govt accommodation in Netaji Nagar, heart of New Delhi.

“Since you are here for 2-weeks furlough, let’s go somewhere to chill out. I have heard, Goa is particularly beautiful after the monsoon.” Sravani spoke while snuggling up to Rudro.

“Good idea, let’s get Aniket and Sunanda along as well. But I will have to get the clearance from my office for leaving the station.”  Rudro responded gently combing the hair of Sravani with his finger.

“Can’t we go on our own?” Sravani sounded a bit annoyed.

“We can but going out with friends will be more joyous.” Rudro replied.

Before Sravani could say anything, Rudro’s phone rang and he got up answering the call.

“Hello, Rudro speaking.”

As he listened to the caller on the other side, Rudro’s jaws tightened. Finally, he told the caller, “I will see in 30 minutes.” Then he called up someone and asked the person to meet him at the Safdarjung Tomb and quickly changed into a pair of jeans and t-shirt. He kissed Sravani and told her, “I will be late, don’t wait for me, have your dinner.” He drove off in his XUV 700 and reached the Safdarjung Tomb stopping on the service lane while waiting for his contact to show up. The weather of New Delhi hung heavy with the promise of rain, but for DCP Rudro, it felt like the suffocating silence before a thunderstorm.

ACP Ananya Singh, knocked on the window of Rudro. She had reached completely unnoticed by Rudro and he liked it. Rudro unlocked the car and she climbed in; to outsiders, it may have looked like a man meeting his girlfriend as they talked animatedly inside the car. Rudro took out a small chit and handed over to Ananya who looked at it in confusion, the chit had only three words written on it, “Mustafa, Tiger, 72 hours”.

“What does this mean?” Ananya asked.

“Mustafa is the code name for the terror outfit across the border, Tiger is likely the Home Minister and 72 hours is obviously the ticking clock. But I don’t know when this message was intercepted and how much time has already elapsed.”

Rudro started the engine and said, “We are going to find out soon.”  

It took him twenty minutes of fast driving to reach the dingy hotel in Paharganj. He asked Ananya to wait in the car while he went inside. He knew the room he wanted to visit and went straight to the second floor and knocked on the door. The door opened about 6 inches and was stopped by the chain. He looked at Rudro and smiled opening the door fully for him to enter.

“I am glad I could reach out to you.”

“Well, in our trade luck do play a role, you were lucky that I was home otherwise my phone would have switched off. But tell me how did you come across this news.”

“Sir, with due respect, a good agent never reveals his source. But I can tell you that it came from deep inside the organization. The person risked his life to pass on this to me. If he is caught he will face a torturous death. We have now 70 hours left to stop the incident.”

Rudro’s gut, honed by years of sniffing out trouble in the capital’s underbelly, screamed at him. This wasn’t a routine threat. “Mustafa” was a known terror outfit, infamous for its meticulous planning and brutal efficiency. “Tiger” was an internal codename for a major target—something big, something public. The “72 hours” was a ticking clock.

He thanked the man and asked him to dig further to find out the target and the place.

“The information is confirmed. We have to find out the engagement details of the top brasses in the govt for next three days immediately.” He told Ananya.

“I will get on the job now.” Ananya assured him and went to her car which had followed them earlier and waiting at a distance.

Rudro called up Col. Diwakar Pandey and informed him of the situation. After about 15 minutes discussion Rudro was able to convince Col that the matter is serious enough for the STF to get involved rather than leaving it to the local police to handle. Colonel asked him assemble his team but instructed him to be in the background and let the senior member of the team to front the operation. ACP Ananya Singh, a sharp analyst with a photographic memory, and Sub-Inspector Akash Verma, a tech-savvy whiz, were his right and left hands. They worked through the night, cross-referencing intel, monitoring digital chatter, and analyzing the cryptic message.

Ananya’s breakthrough came at 3 AM. “Sir, there’s a G-20 summit day after tomorrow with many state heads attending. The keynote address will be delivered by the Prime Minister of Italy, a known voice against the terror organization. Both our PM and HM will be attending the session.”

“Where?” Rudro asked, his voice low and intense.

“She’s scheduled to address a public gathering at the Bharat Mandapam.”

The pieces started to fit together. A large public gathering, a high-profile target, and a terror group that specialized in spectacular, high-impact attacks. The attack would be brazened, designed to cause maximum chaos and destabilize international relations.

Akash, meanwhile, had found a digital ghost. A single, encrypted photo uploaded to a dead-end server. It was a picture of a crowded market, unremarkable at first glance, but his software detected anomalies. A small, seemingly random collection of people in the background, all wearing similar hats, their faces obscured. Their movements were synchronized, their gazes fixed.

“That’s not Bharat Mandapam, sir,” Akash said, zooming in on a street sign. “This is a photo from Sarojini Nagar market. It was taken this morning.”

A cold dread washed over Rudro. The G-20 summit was a feint. The actual target was a soft one, a place where people felt safe. Sarojini Nagar, a bustling hub of life and commerce, was a perfect place for mass casualties. The terror group was planning a secondary, more devastating attack to cause panic while the authorities were focused elsewhere.

With the clock ticking down, Rudro split the team. One unit headed to Sarojini Nagar, the other to secure the Bharat Mandapam area. Rudro himself led the charge into the crowded market. Navigating the labyrinth of stalls and shoppers, he used the image as a guide. They spotted them—three men, their eyes darting, their hands clutched around backpacks that looked unusually rigid.

“Alpha team, proceed with extreme caution,” Rudro’s voice crackled over the radio. “Suspects sighted near Gate 1. Move to intercept. No shots fired unless absolutely necessary.”

The operation was a whirlwind of controlled chaos. Rudro’s team, disguised in plain clothes, moved in with practiced precision. They closed in on the three men, who realized they were cornered. The older man of the group dropped his backpack on the ground and pulled out a gun and pointed it towards the policeman near to him. Rudro tried to aim his gun on the man but the policeman came between them. Taking advantage of the situation, one of the other two made a break for it, but Rudro grounded him with a single shot on his leg and then sprinted across to the fallen man finding the hidden detonator in the man’s palm before he could detonate the bomb. Meanwhile, the older man shot the policeman before quick bursts from Ananya Singh’s gun killed both terrorists. There was a flash of red light pulsed ominously from the fallen backpack of the third terrorist. Rudro’s heart stopped for a moment and jaws hardened. Ananya Singh went over to the fallen man and relieved him of the detonator. The bomb squad, which has been waiting at a distance, came in and defused all three bombs. The bombs had more than enough fire power to bring down half the market.

“Don’t. Move,” Rudro hissed, his knee on the man’s chest as the downed man tried to sneak away.

A tense silence descended, broken only by the distant cries of street vendors and the blaring siren of the ambulance. The three bodies were transferred to the hospital while the forensic team came and cordoned off the area to collect valuable clue. Unknown to Rudro, Colonel Diwakar Pandey had a chat with Ananya Singh and given her a two-word instruction, “No prisoners.”

Ananya Singh gestured Rudro to come and look at the other two dead terrorists. Rudro, put the handcuffs on the man before going to the fallen men. As soon as Rudro reached the spot, the man got up and tried to run but Ananya took an aim shot him on the head, killing him on the spot. A wave of confusion turning into a collective sigh of relief as the truth slowly dawned on the public.

“Why did you do that? The guy was injured and couldn’t have gone far. We could easily have captured him.” Rudro was angry and demanded an answer from Ananya.

“What was the point of arresting such scums? He was a low order operative only, would have been of no use to us. I am sure he wouldn’t have any information beyond this op. Whereas, we have ensured the safety of the city.” Ananya Singh defended not revealing the instructions of Colonel Diwakar Pandey.

Yes, the city was safe. The G-20 summit went off without a hitch. The news hailed the ATS team of Delhi Police lead by ACP Ananya Singh and SI Akash Verma as heroes, their faces plastered on the front pages. But Rudro knew the real victory wasn’t in the headlines. It was in the silence of a market that didn’t explode, in the laughter of people who were still alive, and in the quiet satisfaction of a job well done. He looked out at the city from his 10th floor balcony, a sprawling, chaotic, and beautiful beast. A single tear of relief rolled down his cheek, a testament to the price of peace. The storm had passed, but he knew another one was always on the horizon. He’d be ready.

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Discovering the Gems of India -2

DAY THREE: Going Back to the Abode of our Forefathers

After concluding the first leg our journey, we were ready for the next, the first of which was a 100 km journey to Bhimbetka Rock Shelters, arguably the first settlement of humans in the subcontinent. And from thereon to the cleanest city of the country, Indore.

We had asked for our breakfast to be ready by 7:30 am but the hotel staff and the chef came in only after 7:30 to prepare our food, incidentally, we were the only guests at that time. We had our breakfast as quickly as possible and embarked on a journey of 2 hours 10 minutes, crossing the town of Sanchi. Initially, we drove through the two-lane state highway (Udaigiri Road-Ucher Road-Gulgaon Road) leading us to 4-lane NH 146 (Sagar-Bhopal Highway), then to NH46 till we reached the serpentine road leading to Bhimbetka Rock Shelters. The recent heavy downpour across the country has done extensive damage to the roads, not sparing even the National Highways. We were lucky that the day begun as dry and continued till we reached our destination.

The Bhimbetka Rock Shelters are an important archaeological site that spans the Paleolithic and Mesolithic periods, as well as the historic period. It exhibits the earliest traces of human life in India and evidence of the Stone Age starting at the site in Acheulean times.  It is a UNESCO World Heritage Site that consists of seven hills and over 750 rock shelters distributed over 10 km. with evidence that at least some of the shelters were inhabited more than 100,000 years ago.

The rock shelters and caves provide evidence of human settlement and the cultural evolution from hunter-gatherers to agriculture, and expressions of prehistoric spirituality. Some of the Bhimbetka rock shelters feature prehistoric cave paintings and the earliest are dated to 10,000 BCE, corresponding to the Indian Mesolithic period. These cave paintings show themes such as animals, early evidence of dance and hunting from the Stone Age as well as of warriors on horseback from a later time (perhaps the Bronze Age). The Bhimbetka site has the oldest-known rock art in India, as well as is one of the largest prehistoric complexes. The Rock Shelters of Bhimbetka are 45 kilometres south-east of Bhopal, Madhya Pradesh at the southern edge of the Vindhya Range. South of these rock shelters are successive ranges of the Satpura hills. It is inside the Ratapani Wildlife Sanctuary, embedded in sandstone rocks, in the foothills of the Vindhya Range.

Bhimbetka meaning “Bhima’s resting place” or “Bhima’s lounge”, is compound word made of Bhima (second brother among the five Pandavas of Mahabharata) and Baithaka (seat or lounge). According to the native belief, Bhima during his exile used to rest here to interact with the locals. Bhima Worshiped Mata Vaishavi at this location and was blessed for concurring the forthcoming war. There is a famous Mata Vaishavi Temple existing at this place since long.

It was only in the 1970s that the scale and true significance of the Bhimbetka rock shelters was discovered and reported. Since then, more than 750 rock shelters have been identified. The Bhimbetka group contains 243 of these, while the Lakha Juar group nearby has 178 shelters. According to Archaeological Survey of India, the evidence suggests that there has been a continuous human settlement here from the Stone Age through the late Acheulian to the late Mesolithic until the 2nd century BCE in these caves. This information is based on the findings from the excavation of the site, the unearthed artifacts and goods, pigments present in deposits, as well as the rock paintings. The site contains the world’s oldest stone walls and floors. The origin of the raw materials utilized in certain monoliths uncovered at Bhimbetka has been traced back to Barkheda.

The site consisting of 1,892 hectares was declared as protected under Indian laws and came under the management of the Archaeological Survey of India in 1990. It was declared as a World Heritage Site by UNESCO in 2003.

The rock shelters and caves of Bhimbetka have a large number of paintings. Some of the oldest paintings are dated to 10,000 BCE, but some of the geometric figures date to as recently as the medieval period. The drawings and paintings can be classified under seven different periods and dating back to the earliest paintings to have belonged to the upper Palaeolithic to be as early as 40,000 years ago. The colours used are vegetable colours which have endured through time because the drawings were generally made deep inside a niche or on inner walls.

One rock, popularly referred to as “Zoo Rock”, depicts elephants, barasingha (swamp deer), bison and deer. Paintings on another rock show a peacock, a snake, a deer and the sun. On another rock, two elephants with tusks are painted. Hunting scenes with hunters carrying bows, arrows, swords, and shields also find their place in the community of these pre-historic paintings. In one of the caves, a bison is shown in pursuit of a hunter while his two companions appear to stand helplessly nearby; in another, some horsemen are seen, along with archers. In one painting, a large wild bovine (possibly a gaur or bison) is seen. Some of the animals identified are sloth bear, wolf, hyaena, rhinoceros, wild cattle, deer, antelopes, hare, monkeys, anteater, rats, fish, turtle, peafowl, some birds without any details among the wild animals and a domesticated dog. Deer and antelope are amongst the most numerous of the wild animals depicted. The pictures include groups of hunters; one such group is depicted as running away from a rhinoceros. Other groups are engaged in hunting deer, antelopes and other prey. Spear and bow and arrow are the main weapons of hunt; fish and turtle are being caught in a net, and rats are being driven out of their burrows to be caught. The paintings are classified largely in two groups, one as depictions of hunters and food gatherers, and in others as fighters, riding on horses and elephant carrying metal weapons. The first group of paintings date to prehistoric times while second one dates to historic times (around 5th to 3rd Century BCE). Most of the paintings from the historic period depict battles with use of swords, spears, bows and arrows.

Mitali knew someone in the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) and we were directed to a knowledgeable Guide, Bimal Roy (or Rai). He suggested that we visit the most important 15 caves instead of wandering through the wildness. Given the limited time we had, the suggestion was welcomed and we followed him from cave no. 1 on an amazing journey of bygone era. Here, I would like emphasise the importance of a guide at such tourist interests, we would have wandered through the place often following crowds who would have been as clueless as we were and missed out seeing the wonders that Bimal showed us with explanation. The basic difference between rock shelters and caves is that the first one is a natural formation over a long period of time whereas the second one is manmade using tools. The Bhimbetka mountains were submerged in water (ocean) billions of years ago and emerged on the surface due to tectonic movements millions of years ago. The weather played its part in creation of these natural rock shelters over a period of time. The experience is beyond words and one must visit Bhimbetka with ample time to do complete exploration. The added attraction is the jungle safari of Ratapani Tiger Reserve which is expected to start soon after the monsoon break. It took us about 2+ hours to complete the tour of the rock shelters. We were hungry.

At the point where the Bhimbetka Road meets the highway, there’s a Midway Treat of MP Tourism where we stopped for lunch as well as the rain which started as soon as we reached there. The place wasn’t too big but clean and we were their first customer for lunch. The joyful news to the members of our group was that they served non-veg as well. We still had over 400 km to cover, so decided to go light on stomach and ordered simple egg-curry with rice, besides green salad and papad. While we were enjoying our meal, it rained heavily and stopped just in time for us to proceed to Indore.

Our journey through NH46 took us through Bhopal (could have taken the bypass but it would have increased the time significantly) and Dewas. There was a point where we could see a bridge over the river but it was barricaded forcing the traffic to go below it through the flowing river. I can now legitimately claim that I have driven my Jeep Compass through a river. It would have been a different story to tell if the current of the river was strong, the heavier vehicles could have made it to the other side but the smaller cars would have gone under. When we were approaching Dewas, it started raining again, the visibility became bad with fading lights forcing us to stop at a midway treat for tea n snacks.

We got into a huge traffic snarl when we were about 20-22 km away from Indore. The under-construction flyover was the cause; the service road was inundated with water and mud as also the invisible potholes due to waterlogging as well as darkness of the night. We treaded the path with utmost caution, driving at 20kmph or less taking over 45 minutes to cross the stretch of 2km. On the positive side, I can say that my Jeep Compass glided over the slush with ease.

Deepika having seen the reviews of our hotel in Indore was very apprehensive and the situation did not ease when both Tapas and I said that we haven’t checked the reviews before booking just two days before our trip. However, reaching there we realised it wasn’t as bad as the reviews made it look. The property, Hotel Kanchan Tilak has 50 guest rooms and situated next door to the famous 56 Dukan of Indore with ample parking space. As far as the condition of the property is concerned, it requires immediate and urgent renovations. On the last night of our stay, a portion of the false-ceiling of the bathroom in one of the rooms came crashing down. Fortunately, it happened in the dead of night when no one was using the facility. The quality of food was at best average. I will never revisit.

DAY FOUR: Visiting the Archeological Splendor

In the morning, after breakfast, we left for Mandu (Mandav) Fort also known as Jahaz Mahal, 100 km from Indore taking 2.5 hours. Our vehicles having been through the slush had become dual colour, the bottom half being brown and the parking attendant at the hotel did a wonderful job of cleaning them to their original glory.

We reached Mandu Fort around 11 am and it took some ingenuity to park our vehicles in the designated parking lot; the place was in complete chaos with nincompoops parking their vehicles rampantly disregarding the convenience of others, blocking the thoroughfare as if they own it. Anyways, we walked down to the fort and connected with our guide Raj Kumar, courtesy the contact of Mitali. He turned out to be extremely knowledgeable about the history of the fort and delighted us through his narration besides taking us to every nook n corner of the vast fort.

Mandu or Mandavgarh is an ancient city in the present-day Mandav area of the Dhar district located in the Malwa and Nimar region of western Madhya Pradesh, 35 km from Dhar city. In the 11th century, Mandu was the sub division of the Tarangagarh or Taranga kingdom. This fortress town on a rocky outcrop about 100 km from Indore is celebrated for its architecture.

Mandu gained prominence in 10th and 11th century under the Paramaras. The town of Mandu, situated at an elevation of 633 metres is perched on the Vindhya Range extending for 13 km while overlooking the plateau of Malwa to the north and the valley of the Narmada River to the south which acted as natural defences for the fort-capital of the Paramaras. As “Mandapa-Durga”, Mandu is mentioned as the royal residence in the inscriptions of the Paramara kings starting from Jayavarman II. In all probability, Jayavarman or his predecessor Jaitugi moved from the traditional Paramara capital Dhara to Mandu, because of attacks from the neighbouring kingdoms. Balban, the general of the Delhi’s Sultan Nasir-ud-din, was in the verge of capturing Paramara territory when the Paramaras also faced attacks from the Yadava emperor Krishna of Devgiri and the Vaghela king Visaladeva of Gujarat. Compared to Dhara, which is located in the plains, the hilly area of Mandu offered a better defensive position.

In 1305, the Muslim Sultan of Delhi Alauddin Khalji captured Malwa, the Paramara territory. Ayn al-Mulk Multani, the newly appointed Governor of Malwa, was sent to expel the Paramara king Mahalakadeva from Mandu and cleanse that place from “the odour of infidelity”. With the help of a traitor, Multani’s forces found a way to enter the fort secretly. Mahalakadeva was killed while attempting to flee, on 24 November 1305. When Timur captured Delhi in 1401, the Afghan Dilawar Khan, governor of Malwa, set up his own little kingdom and the Ghuri dynasty was established. His son, Hoshang Shah, shifted the capital from Dhar to Mandu and raised it to its greatest splendour.

Mohammed Khalji established the Khalji dynasty of Malwa (1436-1531) and went on to rule for the next 33 years. It was under his reign that the Malwa Sultanate reached its greatest height. He was succeeded by his son, Ghiyas-ud-din, in 1469 and ruled for the next 31 years. He had a large harem and built the Jahaz Mahal for housing the women, numbering thousands. Ghiyas-ud-din was poisoned at the age of 80, by Nasir-ud-din, his son. Thereafter, the history is mired with conspiracy, assassinations and betrayal for the next few centuries till the reign of Akbar, the Mughal Emperor.

One of the rulers was Baz Bahadur who was not only a connoisseur of music but an accomplished singer himself. Legend says that once he happened to listen to the melodious voice of Rani Roopmati and was so enamoured that he brought her to Mandu and settle her at the Rani Roopmati Pavilion, originally built as an army observation post. It offered a complete view of the fort area besides the Narmada River. When the news of the defeat of Baz Bahadur reached her, she committed suicide by swallowing a diamond ring to avoid capture by the marauding army.

The Mandu Fort is perhaps the largest fort in India if not of the world with interesting spots to explore.

Roopmati’s Pavilion A large sandstone structure originally built as an army observation post it is known today as Roopmati’s Pavilion. Rani Roopmati – the love interest of Baaz Bahadur lived here and is said to have gazed at the Baz Bahadur’s Palace – situated below and also at Narmada River, flowing through the Nimar plains far below, a river which the queen revered.

Baz Bahadur’s Palace Built by Baz Bahadur, this 16th-century structure is famous for its large courtyards encompassed by large halls and high terraces. It is situated below Roopmati’s Pavilion and can be seen from the pavilion.

Rewa Kund A reservoir constructed by Baz Bahadur for the purpose of supplying water to Rani Roopmati’s Pavilion. The reservoir is situated below the pavilion and hence is considered an architectural marvel because of its complex maze-like corridors for escaping any attack.

Darya Khan’s Tomb complex Darya Khan was a minister in the court of Mahmud Khalji II, and his tomb lies in a walled complex along with another tomb, a mosque, a pond, and an inn. At the centre of the complex is the massive sandstone tomb of Darya Khan.

Shri Mandavagadh Teerth temple is dedicated to Lord Suparshvanatha, belongs to Shwetambar sect of Jainism and has been attractively constructed with exquisite looks. It underwent expansion in 14th century. The 3 feet high idol of Lord Suparshvanath seated in padmansana is believed to be much older. Ruins of many other temples and idols can be seen here giving rise to the belief that the Islamic invaders took the short-cut of constructing their forts, palaces and mosques over already existing temples of Hindu, Buddhist and Jains.

Jami Masjid Inspired by the great mosque of Damascus, this enormous structure is striking in both its simplicity and architectural style-with large courtyards and grand entrances. At the front of Jaami Mosque, there are ruins of Asharfi Palace. There is a seven-story winning memorial at the north-east of the palace, now in ruins with only two floors visible.

Hoshang Shah’s Tomb India’s first marble structure, it is one of the most refined examples of Afghan architecture. Its unique features include the beautifully proportioned dome, intricate marble lattice work and porticoed courts and towers. It served as a template for the construction of Taj Mahal.

Jahaz Mahal/Ship Palace Situated between two artificial lakes, this two-storied architectural marvel is so named as it appears as a ship floating in water. Built by Sultan Ghiyas-ud-din-Khalji, it served as a harem for the sultan. Apart from the enthralling architecture, Jahaz Mahal is also a significant venue for the vibrant colours of the Mandu festival. With a series of adventure activities, music shows, lights, and balloon festivals that happen every year in the winter season. The sound and light show at the Jahaz Mahal is another interesting event that holds the eyes of every tourist.

Hindola Mahal Hindola Mahal – meaning Swing palace is so named due to its sloping side walls. The Hindola Mahal might have been constructed during the reign of Hoshang Shah about 1425 C.E. but may date to the end of the 15th century during the reign of Ghiyas al-Din. It is one of a set building making up the royal palace complex at Mandu, which consists of the Jahaz Mahal, the Hindola Mahal, the Taveli Mahal, and the Nahar Jharokha. The Hindola Mahal may have been used as a chamber to plan military expeditions with the top commanders.

The Darwazas (Gates) The wall encompassing Mandu has 12 major darwazas or gates. The present road, through which Mandu is reached passes through many of these.

At the end of the tour of Mandu Fort lasting 5.5 hours, we were exhausted and hungry as well. The contact person (Mr. Patankar) was at the gate to meet us and took us to the guest house to freshen up and then lead us to Sri Sai Baba Guest House Restaurant serving local (Malwa) cuisine, for lunch. Always enthused in trying out local delicacies, we ordered Kadhi Pakodi, Dal Paniye and Dal Bafley served with plain boiled rice. I can tolerate reasonably spicy food but the Paniye and Bafley were on a different level altogether and it got multiplied when I accidentally bit a very hot green chilli. Water flowed from my eyes and nose while fire came out from my ears and mouth. Amalda’s sister-in-law, Shraboni suggested to put a pinch of salt in the mouth to subdue the spiciness. Oh boy, it worked and I became normal in a jiffy. Great learning.

Reaching back to the parking lot, we found a Maruti Alto parked very irresponsibly blocking Topshe’s car and it had the parking brake applied. I used my previously used technique and asked Topshe to place the pillows that he had in his car, at the point of contact while I gently drove his car hitting the illegally parked car to create a gap large enough to take the car out.  

It took us little over 2 hours to reach back in Indore. Deepika, Sumita and Sudipta went out to shopping at the insistence of Sumita and I predicted that while the other two will end up buying, Sumita won’t find anything worthwhile to buy. On the lighter side, it was her way of helping the shopkeepers do their stock-taking, once in a while. Topshe and I went in search for some dry savouries of Indore to take back home along with some sweets.

We ordered food and miscalculated the quantity, ending up with extra food on the table. The quality wasn’t that good to call for a doggy bag. After dinner, we played few rounds of TwentyNine and this time Topshe & I comprehensively beat Amalda-Manojit. I packed up our bags before hitting the bed.

We left for Delhi (Home) after breakfast passing through Ujjain, Kota and bypassing Sawai Madhopur and Jaipur. We wanted to visit Mahakaleshwar Jyotirlinga Temple in Ujjain on our way back but was advised to drop the plan as it was a festive weekend with thousands of people visiting would have been very crowded and would have delayed us significantly.

We stopped at roadside restaurant called Shri Krishna Restaurant and had one of the worst foods of the entire trip causing health issue with Sumita and Deepika.

As we bring closure to this amazing journey, the next one is eagerly awaited. Jai Hind.        

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Discovering the Gems of India-1

This year (2025) Independence Day (15 August) offered a long weekend of 3 days and if one could add 2 more days, it became a fabulous 5-day break. We couldn’t have missed this chance. Together with Topshe and Gora, a road trip was planned in the hills, Shangarh and Sissu, both in Himachal Pradesh, are quaint non-commercialized urban villages offering breathtaking view of the mountains besides doable treks. Everything was fine and going as per plan till the nature decided to open up the skies to wash and cleanse the mountains, every day, news of cloudburst and landslides blocking the roads floated in and we were forced to focus on Plan-B, Madhya Pradesh. The sites closer home viz Khajuraho was already covered by us separately, earlier. I have heard of Bhim Betka Rock Shelters and its rock paintings dating back to 30000 to 10000 years, beginning of human race, and proposed it to Topshe. He in turn made a grand plan of not just Bhim Betka but included Udaigiri Caves, Sanchi Stupa (3rd Century BCE) and Mandu (Jahaj Mahal) Fort in the itinerary. We also thought of visiting Mahakaleshwar Jyotir Linga Temple in Ujjain, if time permitted. The proposed tour spanning 5 days started on 13th and culminated on the late evening of 17th August 2025 and was planned in two days’ time.

The tour party comprised of Tapas & Sudipta, Manojit, Amalda, Mitali & Shraboni (sister-in-law of Amalda), Sumita (Deepika’s friend), Deepika & I. Traveling in Kia Carens and Jeep Compass.

With so much content, I decided to do it in two parts… the account of first part is here.

Day One: The Day of Travel

We started from my home around 5:45 am, a clear 30 minutes delay from the proposed time and caught up with Topshe & others at the Mahamaya Flyover at 6:05 am. After a brief chat we began our journey. The first break came at Jewar Toll Plaza where we stopped for tea and bathroom break. And I realized in the hurried departure from home, I had forgotten to carry my black coffee flask.

We had our proper breakfast at the Chambal Spice restodhaba, Dholpur, where I had visited 3 years ago while traveling to Bengaluru by road with my son Ayush. At that time, we were informed that the place had started operation only a week ago; in three years, it had lost its shine both in ambiance as well as the quality of food and service.

The journey from thereon was a long one through NH44 and we were greeted with light showers on and off. Right after Morena, we took the NH46 towards Gwalior-Shivpuri. Unlike the NH44, this National Highway, a 2-lane road took us inside the towns and villages with local traffic pouring on it, maneuvering through such condition affected our time and consumption of fuel. After crossing Guna, we found some reprieve with lesser local traffic but rain and narrow 2-lane road did not allow us to speed up beyond 60-70 kmph. Since we had a heavy breakfast, we did not stop for the lunch but halted at a BP fuel station to freshen up. Unfortunately, the toilet at this place was extremely dirty prompting us to abandon the idea till we found the IO fuel station 100 meters away with a clean one. I was carrying boiled egg while Mitali had some homemade delicious cake which were devoured in quick time standing under the open skies ready to open up and it did.

As soon as we started for the final leg of our journey, we were greeted with light to heavy rains most of way to Udaigiri but the advantage was practically empty road allowing us zip through whenever the visibility improved. We reached our destination, Village Deck Resort around 7 pm, a good 13 hours journey. The lowest point in our travel from Delhi to Udaigiri was the abandoned cattle on the road, any distraction or slight mistake could have been fatal.

The Village Deck Resort can hardly be classified as a resort. It was spread over 3000 sq mtr with habitable rooms, a swimming pool, a water body with a flock of swans besides open grassland kept for future development. In their website the name was prefixed with “MPT” denoting “Madhya Pradesh Tourism”, a govt owned property but it was a misnomer…the place is privately owned and managed property. We were allotted 3 rooms in the main block and 2 rooms on the other side of the water body, supposed to be cottages. The wild smell around it suggested they were less frequently occupied. The rooms were of decent size with functional air conditions that quickly cooled down the temperature and evaporated the wild smell. We settled down and gathered at Sumita’s room to play a few rounds of Tambola that I had carried with us. Later, we had dinner at their dining hall, the food, we were told will be vegetarian throughout our stay as the property followed a strict vegetarian only principle.

Day Two: Exploring the Bygone Era

All of us were tired from the day-long road journey and therefore needed good sleep and rest for the day trip exploring the Sanchi Stupa and Udaigiri Caves, very close to our place of residence.

Sanchi Stupa is a Buddhist complex, famous for its Great Stupa, on a hilltop at Sanchi Town, district Raisen, Madhya Pradesh, India. It is located, about 23 kilometres from Raisen town and 46 kilometres north-east of Bhopal, capital of Madhya Pradesh.

The Great Stupa at Sanchi is one of the oldest stone structures in India, and an important monument to the historical architecture of India. The Sanchi Stupa was originally commissioned by the Mauryan emperor Ashoka in the 3rd century BCE. Its nucleus was a simple hemispherical brick structure built over the relics (bones) of the Buddha. It was crowned by the chhatra, a parasol-like structure symbolising high rank, which was intended to honour and shelter the relics. The original construction work of this stupa was overseen by Ashoka, whose wife Devi was the daughter of a merchant of Vidisha who was born in Sanchi which incidentally happened to be the venue their wedding. In the 1st century BCE, four elaborately carved toranas (ornamental gateways) and a balustrade encircling the entire structure were added. The stupa at Sanchi built during the Mauryan period was made of bricks which over the centuries and dynasties were overlayed with stones to stand in its current form. There are numerous stupas around Sanchi including the Relics of Sariputra and Mahamoggallana, now enshrined in the new Vihara. Sanchi Stupa is depicted on the reverse side of the Indian currency note of ₹200 to signify its importance to Indian cultural heritage.

During the later rule of the Shunga, the stupa no.1 (popularly called the Great Sanchi Stupa) was expanded with stone slabs to almost twice its original size. The dome was flattened near the top and crowned by three superimposed parasols within a square railing signifying the symbol of the dharma, the Wheel of the Law. The dome was set on a high circular drum meant for circumambulation, which could be accessed via a double staircase. A second stone pathway at ground level was enclosed by a stone balustrade. The railings around Stupa 1 do not have artistic reliefs, these are only slabs, with some dedicatory inscriptions. These elements are dated to circa 175–125 BCE. Although the railings are made up of stone, they resemble wooden fence, the joints between the coping stones have been cut at a slant, as wood is naturally cut, and not vertically as stone should be cut. There are short records of the donors inscribed on the railings as well as stone slabs in Brahmi script. 

The decorations of Stupa No. 2 are probably the oldest extensive stupa decoration in existence and this Stupa is considered as the birthplace of Jataka illustrations. The reliefs at Stupa No.2 bear mason marks in Kharoshthi, as opposed to the local Brahmi script. This seems to imply that foreign workers from the north-west (from Gandhara, where Kharoshthi was the script in use) were responsible for the motifs and figures that can be found on the railings of the stupa. For the first time, clearly Buddhist themes are represented, particularly the four events in the life of the Buddha that are: the Nativity, the Enlightenment, the First Sermon and the Death.

Stupa No. 3 was built during the time of the Shungas, who also built the railing around it as well as the staircase. The Relics (bones) of Sariputra and Mahamoggallana, the disciples of the Buddha are said to have been placed in Stupa No. 3, these relics boxes were excavated in 1950’s and are kept in the vault of the nearby museum. Every year, they are taken out and displayed for public viewing on the last Sunday of the month of November coinciding the inauguration of the museum by Pandit J L Nehru, the first Prime Minister.

We had commissioned the services of an ASI certified guide, Rakesh, a very knowledgeable person, who took us through the site explaining each facet of the monument often interspersing with local folklore, e.g. the 40ft high Ashoka Pillar was cut into pieces and the lion head was taken by a local zamindar or land owner to adorn his home. We saw the black stone pieces of the pillar on site, the top portion with lion heads is now on display at the Bhopal Museum.

We did not realise that we spent more than 3.5 hours touring the Grand Stupa and the surroundings. There were groups of Buddhist devotees from Sri Lanka wearing a kind of uniform of similar T-Shirts with badges and caps for easy identification, were seen offering prayers at the site and doing parikrama or circumambulation of the Great Stupa. Some of us bought a few souvenirs from the vendors at the parking lot before leaving for our next destination, Udaigiri Caves.

The Udayagiri Caves are twenty rock-cut caves near Vidisha, Madhya Pradesh primarily denoted to the Hindu gods Vishnu and Shiva from the early years of the 3rd century CE to 5th century CE. They contain some of the oldest surviving Hindu temples and iconography in India. They are the only site that can be verifiably associated with a Gupta period monarch from its inscriptions. One of India’s most important archaeological sites, the Udayagiri hills and its caves are protected monuments managed by the Archaeological Survey of India.

Udayagiri caves contain iconography of Hinduism and Jainism. They are notable for the ancient monumental relief sculpture of Vishnu in his incarnation as the man-boar Varaha, rescuing the earth symbolically represented by Bhudevi clinging to the boar’s tusk as described in Hindu mythology. The site has important inscriptions of the Gupta dynasty belonging to the reigns of Chandragupta II (c. 375-415) and Kumaragupta I (c. 415-55). In addition to these, Udayagiri has a series of rock-shelters and petroglyphs, ruined buildings, inscriptions, water systems, fortifications and habitation mounds, all of which remain a subject of continuing archaeological studies. The Udayagiri Caves complex consists of twenty caves, of which one is dedicated to Jainism and all others to Hinduism. 

The Udaigiri Caves was on our way back from Sanchi towards our hotel. We were told that only a portion on the ground level is open to public as a Leopard family with 4 cubs have taken shelter in one of the upper caves and it would not be wise to disturb them. The caves at the ground level were all gated and locked without any source of light inside, so we had to be satisfied with the inscriptions outside each cave. At the cave number 13, we could see the rock-cut image of reclining (sheshshayi) Lord Vishnu on the coil of primeval snake, Sheshnag with his head resting on one of his four hands. It is one of the earliest and largest single-rock sculpture of reclining Vishnu. In another cave, visible clearly was the image of Lord Vishnu in Varaha Avatar rescuing the earth depicted as Bhudevi.

I had a mild hope of seeing the leopard family in the wild but it remained unfulfilled. We came back to the Village Deck Resort, very hungry, just in time as the skies opened up for the next one hour with torrential rain. We enjoyed our food and the rains from the safety of the dining hall.

We rested for couple of hours and then played tambola through the evening before dinner time. Later, I teamed up with Topshe while Amalda partnered Manojit for few hands of TwentyNine to end the first leg of our journey.

To be continued…

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The Avengers

CHAPTER TWO: Reassignment & Relocation

Aniket Mathur has fallen in love with the City of Joy and of late has been visiting the city quite frequently. His favoured place to stay remains the abode of his friend Rudro. This Sunday morning, he was having the morning tea with Rudro and Sravani. Rudro was going through the Ananda Bazaar Patrika, a Bangla daily just to keep in touch with the language, his mother tongue while Aniket was engrossed in the Times of India and Sravani checking her emails on the iPad. Suddenly, Aniket excitedly asked, “Rudro, you remember Nikunj?” “What about him?” Rudro countered without lifting his head. In response, Aniket simply pushed his paper to Rudro pointing at a small news piece. It was the news of the massacre somewhere in the remote hills of northern Kashmir. Rudro was stunned to silence for Nikunj was his buddy in school and were in regular touch with each other till recently. Aniket broke the silence, “Rudro, what are you thinking?” Rudro was still thoughtful and when he opened his mouth it was almost in whisper, “The supreme sacrifice of our buddy must not go in vain; his brutal murder shall be avenged”.

Aniket was supposed to meet Sunanda Mukherjee (she had reverted to her maiden surname) for lunch but cancelled it to be with Rudro at his time of grief. Aniket knew Nikunj through Rudro and had developed a close friendship as well. He remembered the good times they shared at Rudro’s Delhi home when Nikunj was on furlough during Diwali. He decided to pitch-in in pursuit of justice for Nikunj. Although, Aniket keeps a low profile in public places, he was highly connected to the higher ups in the central government circle. He called up his contact in Delhi and requested for an appointment with a minister he knew would understand the requirement and help move things. He was assured that a confirmation will be communicated by evening.

The call came late in the evening when Aniket was having a quite dinner with Sunanda at her new apartment in Alipur. He was informed the meeting would take place at the Shastri Bhawan office of the Minister around at 4 pm the following day. He was further warned the minister was a stickler for time and has agreed for a 15 minutes window only. Aniket immediately booked the Vistara early morning flight to Delhi and informed Rudro that he will be spending the night and the following day with Sunanda. He did not want to involve Rudro at the moment. Rudro would anyway get involved when the time is ripe.  

The junior minister in the ministry of Commerce & Trade, Ms. Mira Singh is an MP from Ranchi, Jharkhand who had a promising career in the Civil Services but had chucked it to pursue a career in politics and is known as a firebrand. She had a reputation of being stickler for time and taking action immediately if convinced, going beyond the protocol of the ministries. The affected ministries often would sulk in private but never raised the issue as she is the blue-eyed girl of the high command. Aniket Mathur reached Shastri Bhawan 30 minutes early and had a quick chat with the director Subbu (Subramanian), a long-time friend.

“Madam is in good mood today, so go ahead with your proposal but be very precise. She doesn’t like too much back story and prologue.” Subbu told Aniket.

“I will try to be as brief as possible. Will you be there at the meeting?” Aniket said. He was a bit nervous to meet the fiery minister alone and sought the presence of his friend.

“That depends, if she feels like, then I will be called but as of now it is one2one meeting” Subbu said and winked at Aniket.

“Good evening Maám” Aniket said as he approached the desk of the minister.

“Good evening, Aniket” she replied and then said “You know Aniket, I have a name which I seldom hear in this office building… I am actually tired of hearing Madam… please call me Mira”.

Aniket was relieved at the warmth and explained his reason to meet her… “I know the matter doesn’t relate to your ministry but I also know that you can use the right keys to unlock the doors that can bring justice to my martyred friend Nikunj”, he blurted out in one breath.

Mira Singh pushed a glass of water towards Aniket and said, “Relax and tell me a bit more of the incidence, I have heard about it vaguely”.

Aniket took out the press clipping and handed over to Mira Singh and told her about his chat with Col. Debabrat Das and how he missed killing/ capturing the kingpin Mukhtar Abbas Pathan. He also informed that the latest intelligence report confirmed that Pathan has crossed over to PoK and hiding there under the patronage of the govt.

“So, what do you propose?” Mira Singh asked directly.

“Before, I propose anything; I must also tell you that Colonel feels there’s mole in his platoon. Information about the strike was leaked, otherwise there was no reason for Pathan to escape from the camp in a hurry with only a handful of his follower… he usually moves with a full contingent of at least 50 jihadists.”

“Finding the mole is the concern of the army, I cannot interfere in that but I will definitely let the concerned ministry know of Col. Das’ hunch. About the other matter, I will talk to the HM but Aniket, you know how fast govt machinery moves, and so have patience.”

There was nothing more to discuss but before leaving, Aniket casually asked, “I am sure Mira, you have heard about DCP Rudra currently posted in Kolkata?”

“Oh yes, I have heard about him and his exploits. Is he really that good?” Mira asked.

“I leave the judgement to you, Madam Minister”. Aniket replied and left the minister’s chamber.

Subbu invited him for a drink at the Press Club across the road and promised to drop Aniket at his sister’s place in Noida.

Aniket flew back to Kolkata next day in the afternoon.

In the evening, while having dinner, Sravani casually asked, “So, Aniket, when are you permanently moving to Kolkata?” Aniket lost in the thought, replied, “Not in the near future. We might be globe trotting in the days to come.”

“What do you mean by WE? Countered Rudro.

Aniket realized his mistake and mumbled, “I meant, Sunanda and I were planning for a European trip”. But Rudro could sense the discomfort of his friend and changed the subject, “Ani, it’s been over two years now, you are dating Sunanda, have you decided to take the plunge into holy matrimony or remain a hippy?”

Aniket grinned widely and said, “Not yet bro, we want give space to each other for some more time.” Sravani said, “Don’t give too much space otherwise the boats may drift away”.

“May be in six months’ time, hope that’s not too much”, Aniket replied with a wink.

Aniket was unable to sleep, so he decided to work on his thesis which was almost complete but needed some fine tuning. He expected it to be accepted by his guide Prof. Indrajit Sengupta at JNU and his PhD to come through in next six months. He had discussed this with Sunanda and both had agreed to wait till then before announcing their union.

In the morning, Rudro dropped Aniket at Alipore on his way to his office in Lal Bazaar. Aniket, decided to spend the day working on his thesis in the quite of Sunanda’s serene apartment. He spoke to Prof Indrajit Sengupta and fixed a meeting to discuss and submit the thesis within a week. He sent the pdf files of the sections that were vetted and ready for the professor to assess and give feedback while he concentrated on the remaining part.

In the late afternoon, Aniket received a call, “Hi, this is Mira. I have a chat with Bhai and he has agreed to do the needful but you know, even for him it will take at least 10-12 days to ensure the movement. He also promised to speak to Nitin (Defence Minister) about Colonel’s concern. Please have patience.”

“Thank you, Mira. I shall wait for the pieces to fall in place. By the way, I will be coming to Delhi next week and would love to take you out for dinner” replied Aniket.

“Are you asking me out on a date, Aniket? You must be knowing that I am married to a very handsome Airforce Officer” Mira laughingly replied.

“Bring him along, I will be delighted to meet the man who tamed the tigress.” Aniket said while laughing aloud. The call ended with them agreeing to meet the following week.

Rudro’s day was quite boring, according to him, doing administrative work. He reflected that the city has become quite calm and peaceful. He needed some action otherwise, he felt, he will become lethargic. His thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the desk phone. “Hello, DCP Rudro here”, he answered the call.

“Rudro, what’s up? What game are you playing now?” the man on the other side barked on the phone.

Rudro was tempted to say, “Sir, games are for you guys, I hate politics” but refrained and said, “I don’t know what you are talking Sir. I have become a completely desk bound clerk with administrative things like sanctioning leaves and recommending housing to the staff. In one word, bored”.

The commissioner, Jag Pratap Singh or Jayjay laughed aloud and said, “Whatever it is you are doing, I have been instructed to take you along in the evening to meet Her Majesty, so you better be ready.”

“Her Majesty” is none other than the Chief Minister Aparna Dasgupta, a three times CM with a reputation of being a tough task master. She is a spinster and a firebrand politician, even the PM, though from rival party, admires her. Rudro had a cordial relation with her, not too close, not too distant…he had read somewhere that one should not be too close to fire and get burns and not too distant to be left in the cold. He called his junior to get a gist of the cases under investigation, especially the ones with political shades.

“Good Evening, Madam Chief Minister” Commissioner & Rudro spoke in unison.

“Good Evening. Please take your seats. Can I offer you some tea?” Chief Minister asked and without waiting for their answer, picked up the intercom and instructed the person on the other side to bring 3 cups of Darjeeling tea along with her favourite Aloor Chop.

She seemed to be relaxed on the surface always, even during any crisis but insiders tell about her “Frankenstein” avatar if her instructions are not followed. She maintains a simplistic lifestyle in public, wears simple white saree seemingly worth few hundred rupees but really valued in upwards of 25000 rupees, being very fine cotton, most suitable in the sultry weather condition of Bengal. She studied Rudro with intent before speaking, “Rudro Babu, what are you upto? The Central Home Minister has been asking about you. He specifically asked how long you are here in KP and if I would let you go.”

“He is with us a little over 3 years now. And Madam, whether you let him go or not, I will surely not want him to go anywhere. He has brought the crime rate down significantly, especially the syndicates are out of business because of him.” Jayjay spoke before Rudro could respond.

“I know, he is an asset to your force but it seems, he is needed for some bigger issue at the centre stage. The equation is beyond you and me.” Aparna Dasgupta replied.

Rudro had mixed feelings, on the one hand, he was restless for some action while on the other hand he had fallen in love with the city of joy, for its diverse culture and the vast array of food choices, he particularly liked the authentic Chinese cuisine of China Town. Sravani and he, had made it a routine to visit Flurry’s at least two Sundays every month for their breakfast.

The CM broke the silence and said, “I told the HM that I can let you go only after the Durga Puja. I want you here to ensure the festival goes on smoothly without any incidents.” She continued, “Meanwhile, you have to go to Delhi and meet him once, so, between you and Jayjay decide when you can go… I suggest a Friday would be better; those guys are a bit relaxed at the weekends.”

It was decided that Rudro will go to Delhi, following Friday morning and come back latest by Saturday if not the same day evening. The meeting ended with pleasantries.

In the evening at the dinner, Rudro announced that he’s going to Delhi on Friday morning. “Wow, I am also going to Delhi on Friday to meet Prof. Indrajit Sengupta.” Aniket blurted out.

“You were in Delhi last week as well, though only for a day.” Rudro replied with a mysterious smile.

“How do you? I haven’t told anyone, not even Sunanda.” Aniket sounded agitated.

“Relax my friend, I practically run this city and it is my job to know who’s coming and who’s going. I have people at every nook and corner of the city for information and since you are my close friend, guys at the airport took extra interest to know your destination and itinerary.” Rudro replied with a wide smile.

“Anyways, if you haven’t bought your tickets then let me arrange it through my office, you can enjoy the discounted fare.” Rudro added.

“When do you plan to come back? I may have to stay back for a few days to finalize my thesis in consultation with the professor.” Aniket replied.

“You may spend whatever time you want to spend in Delhi, I will be back on the same day or next day morning. The CM doesn’t want me absconding from the city for long.” Rudro replied laughingly.

“If you are coming back on Friday evening, please bring Bhalla-Paapri Chat from Bengal Sweet House, Bengali Market”, Sravani demanded. All of them laughed out loud. “That reminds me to get some Nolen Gurer Sondesh for my sister, she complained last time” declared Aniket.

Rudro and Aniket, landed at IGIA on time in the morning of Friday. It was decided that Rudro will drop Aniket at the JNU to meet the professor and then he will proceed to meet the Home Minister, the meeting is scheduled just after lunch, so he had enough time in hand. On the way he called up his sister, Rupali that he might drop in for the night stay. He had no clue what’s going to be the discussion point in the meeting. In fact, what little he knew about HM, made him nervous.

Rudro reached the North Block and presented himself at the reception. The receptionist after checking with the concerned, called an aide to take Rudro to HM’s office. He was ushered in a large lounge area where he met the OSD of the minister who asked him to wait as the minister is in another meeting. Since, Rudro had no inkling about the subject of the meeting, he wasn’t carrying any documents of even his briefcase with him, he fiddled with his phone to pass the time. He was anxious and couldn’t concentrate on his Sudoku game.

After some 15-20 minutes, he was called into the chamber of the Home Minister. Contrary to his public image of a stern person who seldom smiles, the HM was quite a jovial character. He got up from his chair to welcome Rudro and inviting him to the sofa set at the corner of the room.

“You prefer Darjeeling liqueur, isn’t it?” HM asked as they sat down. The assistant nodded and left the room to arrange the tea.

“How’s Sravani? And I do hope our dearest Didi is not making you lose your sleep.”

“Oh, she’s fine, happy, I guess. And no, the CM too is happy with my presence in the city.”

The tea arrived with a plateful of veg sandwiches and cookies. Once they were alone, the HM spoke more seriously, “I am sure, you have heard about your friend Nikunj Niyogi. We did strike out the terror camp that was responsible. His sacrifice did not go in vain. However, the leader, Mukhtar Abbas Pathan managed to escape with few of his associates. At the high-level meeting, the PM has asked for the head of Pathan, dead or alive. A Special Task Force has been created from across the services. You are to join that STF immediately. Any questions?”

“Sir, I am honored to be considered and included in the force. However, I need to wrap up business in Kolkata which may take about a week.”

“You don’t worry about that, as we speak, the CM has replaced you with another officer and there’s a mover-n-packer at your residence to help you relocate here in New Delhi. You have been assigned an apartment in the newly constructed complex in Netaji Nagar, it’s not as big as your current home but Sravani will like it and make it a home. We have to consider the security angle too.”

The phone in Rudra’s pocket vibrated, he took it out to check the caller, it was Sravani.

“Please take the call.” The HM smiled.

“Hi, what’s up? I am in a meeting.”

“Did you send the movers-n-packers? At least you should have informed me.” Sravani was agitated.

“It happened in a hurry, just let them pack up, I will explain later in the evening.”

“So, are we all set for the new chapter? Hope, you will be join your team on Monday. I will inform Colonel Diwakar Pandey, your Commanding Officer.”

Rudra came out and called Aniket.

“I have to go back to Kolkata in the next flight. What’s your plan?”

“I will have to stay back for a few days, my paper has been accepted and the viva/ interview will be scheduled in next few days. Hope to get the ‘Dr.’ prefixed to my name soon. And oh, congrats on your new assignment, hope you will be back on Sunday to join us for dinner.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, it’s my job to keep tab on my friends and by now you would have realized I have people at places that are helpful. Nikunj is blessed to have a friend like you, don’t spare that scoundrel Mukhtar Abbas Pathan.”

Rudra was a bit shocked but knew Aniket has a hand in his new assignment. He got into the assigned car and instructed the driver to take him to Bengali Market first and then to the airport. As the car left the ministry, he received a message from the airlines that his ticket to Kolkata is confirmed and can be collected from the counter at the airport.

Rudra reached home late in the evening to find a packed-up home with just their bed in place to sleep and the dining table which will be packed up later and added to the container. Rudra explained the happenings of the day to Sravani as they enjoyed the Bhalla-Papri Chaat from the Bengal Sweet House, Bengali Market. “You know, when the government wants to do something, they act very swiftly and persuasively, otherwise to make Aparna Dasgupta and Jayjay to release me without any delay and fuss was impossible.” Rudro lamented.

They decided to take the Sunday morning flight to Delhi. Rudra called up the property agent to find a suitable buyer for the flat. He was done with Kolkata.   

Posted on by Aranyascope

The Wilkinson Lodge

“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 50th 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.

Posted on by Aranyascope · 1 Comment

Room Number Twelve

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.

Posted on by Aranyascope

Rose Villa

Oh no, not again! Taposh woke up in the middle of the night by an unusual noise coming from somewhere close to his room. This is the third night in a row that this noise has woken him up in the middle of the night. Taposh is a daredevil young man or why else would a person come to this solitary cabin of a house in the middle of nowhere.

Taposh was overjoyed when he was offered the position of Assistant Manager at the tea garden in Himachal Pradesh. He loved the mountains and the chance to trek was an added bonus. So, he had accepted the offer immediately. It’s been three months that he joined the company at their head office in Palampur. He was asked to visit a few of the company’s tea estates further up north.

About six months back he had met Timothy Williams in Delhi, an Australian nature photographer working freelance with National Geographic magazine. He had mentioned that he will be spending some time in the hills of Himachal Pradesh to observe the bio-diversity of the region and do photography. Timothy also mentioned that his maternal grandfather owned a bungalow in Bagora, close to Palampur in HP. As the luck would have it, Taposh was asked to visit the tea estate in Bagora which he agreed immediately. Before, joining the company, he had bought a second-hand Suzuki Gypsy, 4-wheel drive with a hope that it will come handy in exploring the state during his off days.

Taposh started for Bagora after breakfast and reached within 2 hours. It took him took another 30 minutes to locate the William’s bungalow called Rose Villa, named after Timothy’s grandmother at the outskirts of the town. He stopped his Gypsy in front of the gate and climbed out. A quick shower, very common in the hills had washed the surroundings making it clean and green. The Sun had made its appearance but the dark clouds hovered on the horizon. The bungalow had a couple of bougainvillea trees right at the entrance gate creating a natural canopy. The lush green lawns with flower beds in the forefront of the white bungalow looked surreal. Taposh honked and Timothy came out to welcome him. He was smiling but looked stressed.

“Welcome my friend, hope it wasn’t much hassle finding the place.”

“No, not at all, Google Map is a great help, though at times it has misled people as well.”

After few pleasantries, Timothy said, “Good that you have come at this time. I was getting worried what to do with the house… there’s a caretaker here to look after the house in our absence and also manage few occasional guests through Airbnb but yesterday he has taken leave for 3-4 days to go check on his son who is unwell in the village. This morning, I received this message from my sister in Melbourne to come home urgently as my mother is in hospital with sudden deterioration in health.”

“No worries, I am here for at least one week and can extend by few more days till your caretaker comes back from the village. You should go back immediately.”

Timothy made his travel arrangements and left after lunch; the cab would drop him directly at the Delhi airport from where he would take the flight to Singapore and a connecting flight to Melbourne. Taposh visited the tea estate, met with workers and the supervisors, took stock of the production before coming back to the Rose Villa. At night, it looked completely different, a white house standing amidst the black surrounding. It gave him an eerie feeling but he shrugged it off and entered the house. He had his dinner at a roadside dhaba, so he freshened up and changed into nightwear and went to bed. He selected the room that Timothy was using instead of unlocking another room.

Taposh wasn’t sure about the time but by the darkness of the surrounding, he guessed it to be midnight when a constant khss…khsss…khss… noise woke him up. He lay still on the bed and tried to figure out from where the noise is coming. He also thought if a thief is trying to break-in. He realised he doesn’t have any appropriate weapon to counter any attack on himself. He did not move an inch waiting for the intruder to show up, if at all. After few minutes which for Taposh seemed eternity, the noise stopped on its own. Taposh breathed a sigh of relief and went back to sleep.

In the morning, he looked around the house for any tell-tale signs of break-in but couldn’t find anything. After breakfast, he left for the tea estate and spent the entire day working. He came back late after having dinner at the same place. He found a walking stick at the foyer and took it with him, just in case. He was tired, so fell asleep immediately but for a short time. The noise khss…khss…khss… woke him up, clutching the stick tightly he waited for the intruder to come in, but nobody showed up and the noise stopped. Taposh sighed and fell asleep again.

When the same noise woke him up on the third night, he decided to ask someone in the tea estate to come and help him find the source of it. So, during the lunch time he narrated the incidence of the noise at night to the supervisor, Dinesh, a young man of same age as Taposh or younger. He readily agreed to spend the night with him at the Rose Villa.

In the evening, Taposh and Dinesh instead of sleeping, waited in the living room for the noise and they were not disappointed. Around 11 o’clock the they heard the khss…khss…khss coming from somewhere close to them. They got up silently to probe. Dinesh with his keen hearing, went to the rear door opening to the small kitchen garden and opened it in a swift action. A bundle jumped inside the room and purred.

Dinesh started laughing hysterically pointing to the greyish feline making itself comfortable on the sofa in the living room. “Sir, this is Timothy’s pet cat. Didn’t he tell you about this? The cat roams around the neighbourhood and comes for the food and sleeps here through the night. Since, you were never been home during the day, you didn’t notice the cat.”

“Thank you for solving the mystery otherwise I would have imagined that Timothy’s racist grandfather was trying to kill the native living in his house.”

Both had a hearty laugh and retired to their respective rooms for a sound sleep.

Posted on by Aranyascope

Nainpur Nightmare

I was looking for a job after graduating when I had a chance meeting with Amaresh da, a good friend of my brother. “What are you up to these days?” He barked at me. Amaresh da, a six feet plus bulky man with a Karl Marx beard was a professor of political science with a deep voice.

“Looking for a job.” I replied meekly.

“Are you game for a little adventure while earning a good salary?”

Without thinking much, I replied immediately, “Yes, of course.”

“Well, a distant uncle of mine owns a timber business in MP; he is getting old and being a bachelor has no one to manage his business. He is looking for a young, energetic person to manage his business on a day-to-day basis. He is willing to pay a handsome salary plus boarding and lodging. Check with your parents if they are okay with you going there, then I will talk to him and arrange your meeting.”

There wasn’t much discussion as I had made up my mind on taking up the job. As discussed with Amaresh da, I boarded the train to Jabalpur and reached on Saturday morning, his uncle Sailesh Nandi had sent his jeep and the driver held up a placard with name as I came out of the station. Our destination was Nainpur, about 140 km or 4 hours drive through not-so-good roads, the driver, Ramsaran declared. I got to know that Ramsaran, a hefty 90kg, muscled man was not just the driver but also doubles up as man Friday cum body guard of Sailesh Nandi.

The sawmill of Sailesh Nandi was huge spread over 5 acres; three huge machines were busy in chopping and searing the logs in the front of the gated complex while a bungalow at the rear portion with its own garden stood elegantly. I liked the place immediately.   

Ramsaran took my bag and asked me to follow him to the bungalow. We found Sailesh Nandi sitting in his office on the ground floor of the bungalow. Sailesh Nandi was nowhere near his nephew Amaresh physically, he was just a little over five feet, plump with a protruding paunch and receding hairline. He was wearing a finely starched white dhoti with half sleeve kurta, an attire he wore daily. After the pleasantries and tea-snacks, Sailesh said, “Amaresh spoke very highly of you. I like your personality and your willingness to leave home at this young age to work here. I will pay you a salary of Rupees Two Thousand Five Hundred plus free boarding and lodging. I hope it is acceptable to you.”

Acceptable? It was beyond my dreams. In the mid-eighties, this salary was princely sum plus the free accommodation and food. Moreover, in Nainpur, there was no scope of spending a rupee on entertainment or food, it was a dead town in those days with few other sawmills and sundry industries. I agreed immediately and Ramsaran guided me to my residence, a corner room on the first floor next to Sailesh Nandi’s. It was a large room with a huge ornated bed that you see in movies or in the homes of zamindars, a study table with a chair, an easy chair by the window, few paintings or prints adorned the otherwise empty walls. In the corner next to the bed was another ornate wardrobe. Ramsaran put my suitcase next to it and said, “Sir, you freshen up and come to the office then I will show you around the estate and appraise you about the functioning. You will get to meet the other staff also.”

The ground floor had furniture to seat guests and a really large dining table that can seat 16 people at a go. There were 8 rooms of which 6 were for the staff accommodation, one was the office of Sailesh Nandi where I met him and the last one was the general office. Ramsaran joined me in the hall and introduced me to the staff and then we went out to check the sawmills and the rest of the estate.

In the evening, Sailesh came in my room with a local lady and said, “This is Lata, our cook cum washing lady, you can give your laundry to her for washing. She lives in the outhouse.”

The lady went away, Sailesh Nandi sat down on the desk chair and said, “I have made lots of wealth in my lifetime. Nowadays, I don’t enjoy the rigours of the business. Once you are able to manage it on your own, I will go on a pilgrimage.”

It took me few days to understand the business and then I introduced few things that helped in production of timbers as well as business. Most of the transactions were cash only, so every evening, I would tally the accounts and hand over the cash to Sailesh Nandi who would put the money in a large trunk next to his bed. The cheques were deposited in the only bank in the town, next day morning.

After three weeks in the job, I had mastered the function of an Estate Manager, and from the demeanor of Sailesh Nandi, I assumed, he was happy with my work. I have checked the customer track record and ensured all long pending dues are recovered and thereafter credit was extended to only a few big buyers with good track record of payments, rest were all on cash payment.

One day, Sailesh Nandi came to my room with Ramsaran following him a trunk.

“You don’t need to handover the cash everyday to me, here’s the trunk for you to keep the cash and we will sit once a month and reconcile.”

Three months passed without any incidents, life was running like a machine, at times boring for a boy in his early twenties. I had sent almost the entire salary to my mother, keeping just about five hundred rupees with me and all that had remained intact in the absence of any avenues to spend. Then something happened that changed the course of my life altogether.

It was a Sunday and the cook had made mutton curry after a long while and that prompted me to overeat. The full tummy and the cloudy weather made me sleepy in the afternoon. I had a unusually long slumber and got up late. There were thundershowers outside, the sawmills had stopped working but the weather had become pleasantly cool.

That night, I had difficulty in sleeping and lay awake listening to the roars of the clouds and the incessant drumming of the rains on the tin-shades of the warehouse. The occasional lightening would create a psychedelic effect in the room. In one such instant, I thought I saw a man leaning on the window grill, looking inside the room. I focused my torch on the window but no one was there. I dismissed the thought to be an illusion. I did not tell anyone, lest they laugh at me.

In the morning, the Sun showed up but the ground remained muddy due to overnight rain. The day was spent in segregating the dry logs for the sawmills and ensuring dry timber boards are quickly delivered to the customers. During monsoon, there’s a menace of snakes as well, so everyone gets in their room after sunset. Coming to my room, I tallied the accounts and deposited the money in the trunk. While working, I had a feeling that I have been watched by some invisible eyes and invariably I would look at the window but it was just the window.

After dinner, I prepared to sleep and as an afterthought closed the window and covered it with the curtain. The weather was cool and the ceiling fan distributed the air equally in the room. I slept soundly only to be awakened with the shaking of the bed. I thought it to be earthquake and jumped out of the bed. The shaking stopped immediately. I went out of the room to check on others but everyone was sleeping in their rooms including Shailesh Nandi in the next room. I was puzzled, was that really an earthquake or was I dreaming? I decided to check in the morning during breakfast.

“Anyone felt the earthquake last night?” I asked.

“Earthquake? What are you talking about? There hasn’t been an earthquake in this area in the last 50 years. This is one of the safest places as far as earthquake is concerned.” Ramsaran opined.

“My bed shook violently; I jumped out of the bed and the shaking stopped.” I spoke, a bit unsure.

The staff at the table looked at each other, there face turned a bit concerned but nobody spoke. Sailesh Nandi had come to the table and asked what we were talking about. After listening to me, he said, “If it happens again, wake me up, I am next door to you.”

I woke up in the middle of night with great discomfort in breathing, it felt as if someone is pressing a pillow on my face, trying to kill me. Collecting all my wits, I sat up on the bed and just then the bed started shaking violently like a boat on the high seas. I was frightened and tried to shout but only a feeble shriek came out. I clanged on to the headpost of the bed for what seemed eternity. Finally, a chilly breeze brushed past me and the shaking of the bed stopped. I rushed out of the room and banged on the door of Sailesh Nandi.

“I can’t stay in that room.” I blurted out as soon as Sailesh Nandi opened the door.

“Calm down, come inside and tell me what happened.”

I explained the nightmare I just experienced. He listened thoughtfully and then said, “Look, the other rooms are not opened for ages, in fact since the time I bought this place, it will take time to make any of the other room habitable. Tonight, you sleep with me, this bed is big enough to accommodate both and tomorrow I will ask Ramsaran to sleep outside your room just in case you need him.”

The following night, Ramsaran came with his beddings to sleep outside my room but I insisted that he sleep inside the room, a decision, I regrated later.

I fell asleep easily knowing that I have a strong protection in the form of hefty Ramsaran. He regularly exercised and did weight lifting developing strong body muscles. Ramsaran decided to sleep near the window just in case someone tries to break-in from there.

I have always been a light sleeper, the commotion in the room woke me up, in the feint light coming from outside, I saw Ramsaran writhing in pain holding his neck, a garbled choking noise coming out from his throat. In those crucial moment I had a brain freeze, sat on the bed like zombie watching life snuffing out from the body of Ramsaran. Suddenly, a strong gust of chilly wind hit me like a bulldozer and threw me on the bed. I regained my senses and rushed towards Ramsaran but it was too late, his lifeless body lay still. I staggered out of the room shrieking hysterically. The entire residence woke up and joined me on the corridor. I pointed my finger towards my room and blabbered, “Ramsaran is dead. A spirit killed him.”

Some of them went inside to check and came out saddened. Sailesh Nandi spoke in a hushed tone, “Oh no, not again. Have to inform the police.” He went down to his office to make the phone call. We followed him. All of us waited in the hallway till the police came in the early hours of morning.

Inspector Dinanath Dwivedi, a veteran close to retirement had several postings in Nainpur Police Station and knew Sailesh Nandi very well. He went through with regimental accuracy interrogating everyone present, thoroughly examined the room for a clue but there was none. The body of Ramsaran bore no external injury mark except bleeding from the nose and mouth.

“So, young man, tell me exactly what happened in that room?” Inspector asked me.

I narrated the incidences of the last three days culminating in the death of Ramsaran.

“Hmmn, this is the third instance and all the victims died in similar manner.” He spoke facing Sailesh Nandi who was sitting next to me.

“What do you mean, the third instance?” I asked,

“Well, the first one happened many years ago, the estate manager was found dead on the bed, apparently died of asphyxia with bleeding nose. I was a rookie sub-inspector then, we did extensive investigation to find the culprit but nothing was found. We had to close the case as a sudden cardiac arrest, a natural cause of death. It aligned well as the manager was in his mid-fifties, a age range with many such instances.” The inspector stopped to take a sip of the tea, served by Lata to everyone present in the room.

“The second incident happened three years ago, a young man, probably your age or little older, came here from Bengal to work as an estate manager. He was found dead with his head smashed against the bedpost. He had barely completed one in the job. There were no sign of any struggle and the door was locked from inside. Again, we did a thorough investigation and what we found can’t be explained scientifically, it defies all logic.” He took few more sips of the tea and kept aside the empty cup.

“Our investigation revealed that Mr. Nandi had bought this estate from a certain Kishori Lal on a as is where is basis, meaning, he bought the house with all the furniture and fixtures including one existing sawmill at a price below the prevailing market price. Why, Mr. Nandi, wasn’t that right?”

“Yes, it was well below the then market trend and I thought myself very lucky to seal the deal within three days and getting the possession immediately.” Sailesh Nandi confirmed.

“Well, we found out that this Kishori Lal wasn’t the owner of this property. It belonged to his distant uncle who being a widower without any children of his own had adopted Kishori brought him here from the village. Kishori became greedy and on a fateful night murdered his uncle, probably strangulating him by pressing a pillow on his face. We could not apprehend Kishori Lal as he had fled the country immediately upon selling this property to Mr. Nandi.”

Inspector Dwivedi picked up his empty cup of tea and dejectedly looked around, immediately, Lata brought another steaming cup of tea for him. He took a sip and continued.

“Being in the police and otherwise also, I do not believe in the ghosts or paranormal, but after two inconclusive murders I told Mr. Nandi to get rid of the ornated bed but it seems he did not take my advice. It is your sheer luck that you are alive today, the wrath of Kishori’s uncle fell on poor Ramsaran.”

“I am sorry, I did not heed to your advice then, the bed is very expensive, made out of mahogany wood and hand curved. It is worth at least thirty thousand rupees, but I have learnt my lesson, let’s burn the damn bed, will make it as the last resting place of Ramsaran.” Sailesh Nandi spoke with full emotion.

The cursed bed was brought down and was set as the funeral pyre for Ramsaran. Since, Ramsaran had no family, Sailesh Nandi decided to perform the last rites for him. The entire fraternity of the Nandi Sawmill gathered around in addition to the policemen. After chanting of the mantras, the fire was lit and the morning breeze helped the fire to glow quickly engulfing the pyre made of the bed. No one moved for the next four odd hours till the fire subsided to reveal the ashes of Ramsaran. But surprisingly, nothing had happened to the bed, it remained intact, not even any burn mark. The raging fire could not destroy the bed; the evil spirit will not allow it to be destroyed.

And that was when I decided to leave Nandi Sawmill and the town of Nainpur, the nightmare I experienced shall remain etched on my memory till the last day.