Posted on by Aranyascope

Mother

Dr. Debashish Chowdhury successfully completed his internship at the govt hospital at Barasat and was posted at the Hridaypur Govt Hospital. Dr. Debashish, all of 26 years age, became the lone doctor at the village hospital. He took up residence near the hospital but away from the village centre. His house was in an isolated patch of the village surrounded by open fields of rice cultivation on one side and mix of palm, mango and jackfruit trees besides others creating a feel of forest. The narrow make-shift road from his house went straight to the hospital and then to the state highway. Dr. Debashish being an introvert, hasn’t made any friends, he prefers to read in his free time. A local boy named Sonu does errands as well as cook for him. The village turns sleepy by 8:30 pm with deserted roads. Urban bred Dr. Debashish initially did not like the place and wanted to leave but stayed back for the sake of his career. The regular load-shedding after sundown made his life difficult as he was not familiar with lighting a lantern, every evening, Sonu would light up two lanterns.

Like any other evening, after dinner Dr. Debashish was reading a medical journal when he heard someone calling, “Doctor Sahib. Doctor Sahib.” It was past 10 pm.

He wondered who’s at the door at that late hour as most of the villagers sleep by 8:30 pm, he took the torch and opened the door. A handsome middle-aged gentleman was standing by a vintage car in front of the gate, before he could ask, the gentleman spoke, “Sorry to bother you at this late hour but I need your help, my wife has suddenly fallen ill and there are no doctors other than you. I shall be grateful if you can come along with me. I promise to drop you back later.”

Dr. Debashish was looking at the gentleman, he seemed very familiar but Dr. Debashish couldn’t place him. He asked, “Where’s your wife?”

“She’s at home… about 5 km away from here.”

“Okay, I will go with you.” Dr. Debashish quickly changed clothes, locking the house, he got into the passenger seat next to the driver. The gentleman was already seated in the back.

“What was your name, you said?” asked Dr. Debashish as the car started moving.

“Sukanto Bhattacharya.”

Dr. Debashish stopped himself from asking any further personal question, he’s a doctor going to see a patient, there’s no need to get involved personally, he thought. They covered the distance in silence, the only sound being the friction noise of the tyre with the rough road and occasional howling of the dogs. The car stopped in front of a palatial house; the light bulbs are too feeble to light up the surrounding. “That’s our house”, declared Mr. Sukanto Bhattacharya.

Dr. Debashish got down from the car and looked up at the house, though the lights were too feeble, the moonlight was bright enough to see beyond the silhouette of the structure. He was shocked, the house looked very familiar to him, the high-rising pillars, the long corridors and veranda all looked as if he has seen them earlier. He asked, “What is the name of this place?”

“Jirapali.”

Dr. Debashish was certain that he had never been to this place, but why does the place feel so familiar as if he has spent time here in this house… he wondered with a bit of unease.

A handyman came with a lantern, Sukanto took it from him and invited Dr. Debashish, “Doctor, please come this way. Sorry for the inconvenience, the electricity is hardly available in the village and the voltage is too low to be of any use.”

“It’s okay, let’s check the patient immediately.”

They walked in silence through the long corridor to the staircase leading to the upper floors. Climbing the stairs, Dr. Debashish was again struck by the familiarity. He felt a cold wave run through his veins giving him goosebumps. The air was filled with some sort of fragrance, maybe of some flowers, he couldn’t place it. The whole house was in deathly silence, the only sound came from the footsteps as he followed Sukanto in to a large room.

A large bed with intricate design lay in the middle of the room; in the low light of the lantern, Dr. Debashish could see a frail figure on the bed under the thin white sheet. For a moment, the bed looked familiar to him but he shrugged off the feeling and went closer to the bed.

A very frail lady sleeping on her side facing away from Dr. Debashish. He spoke in a low voice, “Please turn around mother, I want to check you.”

The woman did not stir from her position or responded. Dr. Debashish repeated his request.

This time the woman stirred and garbled noise came out of her as she tried to turn.

“How are you feeling, mother? Where is it paining?” Dr. Debashish asked softly.

The woman turned to face him… Dr. Debashish saw a mist covered face looking at him lovingly. Before he could say anything, the room suddenly became dark, the lantern lights dimmed exceptionally low. He frantically called out, “Sukanto Sir, where are you? Show me the light.” His voice echoed through the room. The lights came on as suddenly as they had dimmed. He looked at his patient more closely… her eyes were sad and melancholy. The woman started crying, the loud cries reverberated through the entire house hitting the very core of Dr. Debashish. He felt something inside him pinch his heart with force. He was unable to control his emotion, involuntarily he was crying too. His head started spinning and he fell down, unconscious.

He woke up slowly at the calling of his name, opening his eyes slowly he found the villagers surrounding him… he recalled seeing a few of them at the hospital. He looked around, he was sitting on the floor of the corridor, layers of sandy mud greeting his body. He tried to remember the events of the night…a gentleman in a vintage car brought him here… “What’s this place?” he asked one of the villagers.

“Jirapali”

“Okay, now I remember clearly… A gentleman named Sukanto Bhattacharya brought me here in a car… to check his ailing wife.”

The villagers looked at each other in bewilderment. An elderly villager spoke eventually, “Sukanto Babu used to be the Panchayat Pradhan, his forefathers were the zamindar of this area. He passed away 18 years ago just 2 months after the passing away of his ailing wife. Those days, there were no hospitals and doctors here in the village, for medical treatment we had to go to the town Barasat.”

Dr. Debashish got up from the sandy floor and patted his body to clean the dirt… he was puzzled. He needed to go back to the hospital. A young boy gave him a ride back to the hospital. The day passed in daze… he kept thinking how he landed at the old zamindar house a few kilometres away from his quarters. Moreover, why the house, the people there looked familiar to him, he kept thinking all day.

Days turned into week, weeks tuned into month, life had returned to normal and boring for Dr. Debashish, he had almost forgotten about the zamindar house and the incident of that night. Signing off for the day, he decided to take a stroll through the village to get familiar with the surrounding and perhaps get to know the inhabitants. He was walking with gay abandon, passing few hutments where the women of the house were preparing dinner, delicious savoury smell wafted through the air. The surroundings became secluded with open fields on either side of the road, Dr. Debashish became conscious and wanted to turn around but some unknown force made him walk forward. Soon, he realized, he was standing in front of the old zamindar house. He could see many people silently moving around on the long corridor of the house. A car came to stop in front of the house from which Sukanto Bhattacharya alighted. He looked at Dr. Debashish and smiled waving at him.

“Doctor Sahib, what are you doing here?”

The call brought him to reality, he turned to find a young boy with his mother…they had visited him yesterday at the hospital.

“Where were you going, Doctor Sahib?” the lady asked.

A few other villagers also joined them. One of them asked, “What were you doing in this abandoned house at this late hours, Doctor Sahib?”

“I don’t know, I felt someone strongly pulled me here.”

“Sir, come with me, I will take you back to the hospital.”

“It’s okay, I will find my way back, thank you.”

The villagers ignored him and walked him back to the hospital. Alone at home, he thought, does he have a link to the house? Why does Sukanto Babu shows up like that? Why does he end up in front of that abandoned house? He was intrigued but the answers eluded him.

He had three holidays coming up and decided to visit his parents. In the morning as he was packing up, he got call from his mother, “Please come quickly, your father is very unwell and wants to see you urgently.”  

He reached home in the afternoon and found his father in a very bad shape. The cancer has reduced him to a skeleton. The physician inside him told him that his father may not survive the night. He sat down beside him holding his father’s hand, gently called, “Baba, I am here. How are you feeling?”

The old man opened his grey eyes and looking at Debashish, his eyes lit up momentarily as he tried speak, a garbled sound came through his trembling lips, “Son, son, you have come…. I…I…” the old man couldn’t finish as life slipped out of his body.

Once, the cremation and last rites were completed, Dr. Debashish decided to return to work. His mother came with a sealed envelope, “Your father left this envelope for you.”

He took the envelope and opened it, a handwritten letter came out…

“Dear Son,

When you get this letter, I would have left the mortal world. It is important that you must know the truth, otherwise my soul won’t rest in peace. We are not your biological parents. The woman, Savitri, you know as your mother had delivered three still-born babies before and I was mortally scared that another still-born baby would kill her. As fate would have, the fourth baby too was still-born. In desperation, I bribed the nurse to switch the baby with one born in the next bed. Both the mothers were unconscious and never came to know of the switch. However, I remained the culprit to your real mother. Hope she and your real father will forgive me.”

Dr. Debashish slowly folded the letter and put it back in the envelope. The visuals of the old lady crying and saying, “My son, come to me” flashed in front of him.

“What’s written in the letter?” his mother asked.

“Nothing of concern mother.” He hugged his mother tightly as his eyes welled up in tears.

Posted on by Aranyascope

Sujan

A month back Inspector Satish Chauhan has come to village Bakheta, 40 minutes’ drive from Rohtak city as SHO (Station House Officer). He has been transferred here as punishment for not adhering to the dictate of a minor politician with enough influence. The police station is away from the centre of the village, near the main bus station. His residential quarters a further away… 10 minutes’ walk from the chowki, a small pond behind the house and then the cultivable land spreads as far as one can see. Satish liked the place, being in mid-forties, he is done with the cat-n-mouse chase. His son has just started his engineering degree course from NIT Kurukshetra. Satish has already decided to quit once his son graduates, going back to his village near Ambala and doing farming like his father.

The Bakheta village is mostly peaceful with some incidences of snatching and theft once in a while. In all such cases the culprits were apprehended within a few days. Satish loves to read, especially fictions and has brought with him few boxes of books. Most of his free time is spent in reading these books. He also takes a stroll along the pond going into the fields of wheat cultivation.

He was returning from morning walk, when he saw constable Deepinder waiting for him at the gate of his quarter. As he approached him, Deepinder spoke with urgency, “Sir, please come to the station immediately.”

“Why? What happened? Is it a case of theft or murder?” Satish asked.

“No Sir, nothing of that sort… the Panchayat Pradhan Rajbir Jangra is waiting for you.”

“So? Let him wait. I will come in a while. If he needs urgent attention, SI Amit Kumar is there to attend.”

“Sir, he wants to talk to you only. He is quite influential and close to the ruling political party. I suggest you meet him as soon as possible.”

“Okay fine. I will join you in 10 minutes.”

Panchayat Pradhan Rajbir Jangra was waiting in his office and stood up as Inspector Satish Chauhan entered, “Good morning, Sir. I am Rajbir Jangra. I wanted to meet you for long time but couldn’t because of work pressure. Besides being a businessman, I am also the Panchayat Pradhan of Bakheta village… but my visit has nothing to do with either. I have come to invite you for the “Mundan ceremony” of my grandson. You have to come to the party in the evening.”

“Thank you for the invite, I will try my best but can’t promise you. You know, our job is 24×7, don’t know when some emergency incidence happens.”

“No, no, you will have to come, I will send the car for you.”

“Okay, I will come for a short while.”

Looking out through the window, Inspector Satish watched Rajbir Jangra getting into his BMW SUV and wondered from where the wealth comes to these guys.

Constable Deepinder came in with a tray, a cup of tea and a plate of bread-pakoda, breakfast for Inspector Satish Chauhan. After placing the items on the desk, he stood at the side. Satish has found the young boy quite intelligent and logical. He looked up at him and asked, “What’s the matter Deepinder? Do you want to say something?”

“Sir, this man… Rajbir Jangra is not a good person. He is not only corrupt but can go to any length to achieve his objective. He had a business partner who just vanished one day… it is rumoured that Rajbir murdered him and burnt his body in his farmhouse.”

“Deepinder, it is just a rumour, no proof or witness, we can’t act on it on mere suspicion.”

“Sir, my distant cousin works at his home as a security guard, I will ask him for more information.”

The week passed peacefully without any incidence in village Bakheta. On Saturday, Inspector Satish Chauhan went to Rohtak on a case related to his previous posting and returned late in the evening. He saw the familiar BMW SUV outside the police station but still asked the guard, “Who’s car is this?”

“It belongs to Panchayat Pradhan Rajbir Jangra. He has sent it to take you to his farmhouse.” The guard informed as a matter of fact.

It would not look nice, if I don’t go, thought Satish and told the driver that he would soon join him after freshening up. The farmhouse, more like a palace, was lit up for the celebrations and Rajbir came quickly to welcome his special guest, Inspector Satish Chauhan. He introduced him to the other distinguished guests and to his son. The party continued till almost midnight… Satish had called for his vehicle not wanting to take any favour from his host.

The farmhouse was on the other side of the village, the driver finding the roads devoid of traffic was cruising at a good speed, Satish seating at the rear seat dozed from the days’ exhaustion and the hearty meal at the farmhouse party. Suddenly, the driver applied hard break and the vehicle stopped with a screeching noise. “What happened?” Satish asked.

“A young boy came running on the road.”

Satish was surprised, “Young boy? At this hour in the middle of nowhere? Are you sure?”

“Yes sir, I saw him zigzagging in front of the car.”

Satish got out of the car to inspect. In the darkness, as far as he could see, there were no settlement, only cultivated land on both side of the road.

“You must be feeling sleepy. There are no houses anywhere in the vicinity. Drive carefully.” He instructed the driver irritatingly.

On reaching the police station, he checked if anything needs his attention but the duty officer informed that all are under control. Satish crashed out once he hit the bed. A low noise of a child crying woke him up, he checked his wristwatch, it was 2 am. Being a police officer, he’s trained to be attentive at all times. He tried to concentrate on the crying sound, it was coming from the rear of the house… picking up the 5-cell torch he went out to check.

The light from the torch though powerful did not show up the source of the crying. Satish walked towards the sound in complete darkness trying to focus the light pinpointing the source. He stopped, the light has caught the source… a young boy of 10-12 years wearing shorts and a torn t-shirt standing near the pond crying. Satish rushed towards the boy but his foot hit a stone, losing balance he fell down. He wasn’t hurt and got up quickly. The boy had vanished. He focused the beam all across the banks of the pond but couldn’t find the boy.

He came back wondering if the young boy is same one that the driver saw!!

Over the next two days, he became busy with managing political rallies of the rival parties and forgot all about the young boy. He was driving back home late at night when he had to apply the brake with full force… out of nowhere, a young boy, dangerously came running in front the police jeep. He shouted at the boy, “Hey, who are you? Be careful.”  The boy looked back at him and then ran away in the darkness. Satish tried to see where the boy went but couldn’t.

The following morning, he enquired in the police station if anyone had seen a young boy of 10-12 years age in the vicinity but no one could recall seeing. The driver said, “Sir, you did not believe me the other day when I was driving, now you have seen him too. I have a feeling that the boy is an apparition.” Satish is a logical person, doesn’t believe in paranormal, he dismissed the driver, “What nonsense, there’s no such thing. You check the neighbourhood for the kid, his parents must be informed.”

A few days later, he was finishing his reports when Panchayat Pradhan Rajbir Jangra landed in his office with large box of sweets and said, “Sir, the other day when you came, I couldn’t take good care of you in the midst of so many people. Please join me and my family this coming Sunday for lunch. I would feel honoured.”

Satish knew that being the SHO of the area, he will occasionally get such invitation. He politely tried to decline, “On Sunday, I have to go to Rohtak on urgent work, I won’t be back before evening.”

“Then let’s meet for dinner.” Rajbir was insistent.   

Satish, though irritated, calmly replied, “I can’t say anything right now, I really don’t know when I will be back here on Sunday evening… it all depends on my work.”

It was late evening on Sunday when Satish returned to the police station. Deepinder was at the gate, “Sir, Rajbir Jangra had sent his car for you but I told the driver that you aren’t back from Rohtak and we don’t know when you will come.”

“Good, if his man comes again, tell him that I am still not back. Now, is there anything else, otherwise I will go home for the night.”

“No Sir, everything is okay, you take rest.”

Satish walked the short distance from the police station to his home… getting closer he saw the BMW standing in front of his house. Rajbir came out from the passenger side and greeted him, “Sir, good to see you, I have been waiting for you only.”

Satish had no place to hide, “Okay, let’s go but I am very tired, will not be able to stay for long.”

Rajbir had made a fabulous arrangement, a banquette in honour of his guest. Satish was feeling tired and was seating alone in the porch when he noticed the same young boy standing at the distance. He got up to go catch the boy but he vanished quickly. Satish became pensive, the boy was trying to tell him something… he must do something, but what?

On Monday morning when reached his office, Deepinder was waiting for him, “Sir, we have found the boy, his name is Sujan… missing for last two weeks, only child of his parents. They are frantically searching for him.”

Two days later, Satish woke up in the middle of night… he heard the low crying of a child again. He quickly dressed up and went out to look for the boy. He was standing at a distance and started walking as soon as he saw Satish. This time, Satish did not call out but started following the boy. They walked quite a distance, the boy never looked back as if he was certain that Satish was surely following him. After a time, the boy stopped in front of big house and looked at Satish, his eyes were sad and begging for help. Satish looked at the house and realised he had been to this house, a couple of times, the farmhouse of Panchayat Pradhan Rajbir Jangra. The house was in darkness, the inhabitants sleeping comfortably. The boy had vanished again, he came back in silently before anyone could spot him.

Satish could deduce that there are strong connections between the missing boy and the house of the Panchayat Pradhan. He will have to find out. He will ask Deepinder to investigate.

Two days later, Satish was in his office when Deepinder came rushing and said, “Sir, very bad news. The little boy was murdered by Rajbir and buried in the lawns of his farmhouse.”

“What? Who told you?” Satish asked.

“I told you earlier that my distant cousin works at that house as security guard, he narrated the whole incident. The boy had entered the lawns to pick some fruits, one of the guards caught him and presented him to Rajbir Jangra. In the fit of anger, Rajbir hit the boy on his head with his walking stick. It was struck so hard that the boy died instantly. The body was buried at the corner of the lawn and everyone involved were paid handsomely to keep quite.”

Inspector Satish Chauhan was aghast at the brutality, he immediately arranged a team to search the house. He personally went to the district magistrate’s office to get the search warrant and requested him to keep it under the wraps as he feared someone in the DM’s office in the payroll of Rajbir Jangra might tip him off.

The lawn was carpeted with nicely manicured grass, the police team searched the place with hawk eye. One corner of the lawn seemed different from the rest, it had been dug recently and filled up again but unevenly, the loose soil, a tell-tale sign. Satish ordered his men to dug the place; it did not take much digging, the body of Sujan wrapped in gunny sack came out. The parents of the boy were summoned to identify. They broke down seeing the mortal remains of their only child. Rajbir Jangra along with the gardener and the guard were arrested immediately.

That night, Satish was finding it difficult to sleep, he went out to the porch and his eyes caught the sight of the boy named Sujan. He was saying thank you to Inspector Satish Chauhan.     

Posted on by Aranyascope

The Woman with the Infant

The moment the train left the station, Indrajit realized, in the hurry to catch the train he had forgotten his prized torch at his uncle’s home. He hoped to retrieve it on his next visit. The weather had turned sultry and humid even though it was just mid-May. He thanked his stars that he could get the AC 2-Tier ticket under the Tatkal Seva of the railways. He settled down in his cubicle and after a while realized that he was travelling alone in that section, the other three berths in his cubicle were unoccupied, very unusual, he thought.

He took off his shoes and made himself comfortable pulling up the blanket as air in the cubicle became a bit chilly. He took out the book he purchased from the station before embarking the train and started reading it. The train picked up speed, the gentle movement of the coach and the clanking sound soon made him sleepy… he slowly dozed off.

The ticket checker woke him up. As he was checking the ticket, Indrajit asked, “Aren’t anyone coming for these three berths?”

The ticket checker, looked through the chart and replied, “A family of three will embark from the next station.”

Indrajit was relieved and happy that most of the night, he will be alone in the cubicle… he doesn’t enjoy the company of strangers while travelling in a train. He usually reads a book or listens to music looking through the window, the vast canvas that nature presents, brings joy to him. He was contemplating on picking up the book again when the catering staff brought his dinner. He finished his dinner peacefully alone and washed up. He prepared his bedding and switched off the main lights, only blue night lamp in the corridor were lighted. He pulled up the blanket to cover his head and was soon in deep slumber.

The train was cruising at a decent speed when there was loud noise and the train stopped with a jerk. Indrajit woke up with a startle, the train coach was pitch dark, even the blue night lamp on the corridor was not on anymore. He sat up on his berth looking to figure out what has happened; when his eyesight settled in the darkness, he realized someone was occupying the opposite berth. The train started moving again, the night lamp too started glowing and in that feint light, Indrajit figured that the new occupant is a young woman with an infant. She had her head covered with her dupatta or the scarves as is the local custom for married women.

The ticket checker had said there will be a family of three coming for the vacant berths, where are the other two members? Indrajit was in a dilemma… what if the others got left behind… he asked, “Are you alone? Where’s rest of your family?”

The woman kept quiet, did not respond… probably did not understand English. He tried again, this time in Hindi but the woman still did not respond. It would be impolite to press further, Indrajit thought as he lied down to sleep again. But the sleep eluded him, he felt something is amiss. After a while the infant started crying, the woman sang a lullaby to sooth the baby but it had no effect, the infant was hungry, probably. The woman turned the other way to feed the baby, Indrajit got up to take a stroll while giving her some privacy. He walked along the corridor to the other side of the coach… he was surprised that all the other occupants were fast asleep, oblivious to the crying of the infant. He opened the coach door and felt the gush of fresh warm air. He lit a cigarette took few quick puffs before throwing it, closing the door, he walked back towards his berth. He saw the woman with the infant walking to the other side of the coach. She walked out of the AC cabin, intrigued, Indrajit followed her… just in case she needs any help. He stood behind the glass door watching them. The woman holding the baby in one arm, opened the compartment door, a gush of wind caught her, letting go her dupatta, a beautiful young woman turned towards coach door retrieving the dupatta and covering her face. The woman then stood dangerously close to the door cooing to the infant. Suddenly, she lost the balance due to the movement of the speeding train and the infant flew out her arm into the darkness outside. She flung herself in the air behind the child in a futile attempt to catch the disappearing infant. Indrajit, involuntarily let out a cry for help waking up the others in the coach. He rushed to the open door to see outside but only pitch darkness greeted him. He shouted to his travelers, “A lady with her infant just fell out of the train.” Then without waiting for the others to act, he pulled the emergency chain with full strength. The train came to a halt in the middle of nowhere. He along with few others climbed down to check but by then the train had covered a good distance from where the woman had jumped.

The railway guard and the driver along with few policemen came to the coach from which the emergency chain was pulled. “Who pulled the chain and why?” asked the guard. The co-passengers pointed towards Indrajit, “He pulled the chain” they spoke in unison.

“Why?” asked the guard again.

“The infant slipped away from the woman’s arm and she jumped to save her child.”

“What woman? Which berth?” asked the guard.

“She was on the berth opposite mine. Probably came in from the last station.” Indrajit replied.

“Sir, the train is running non-stop since we started without halting even for a minute.” The guard replied clearly irritated for this unnecessary delay.

“The berth, you are referring is vacant, the reservation is from the next station which is still few hours away.” The ticket checker chipped in.

The driver had been silent all this while, now he spoke, “Do you recall the woman? Was she young with an infant, maybe 3-4 months old?”

“Yes, that’s correct.” Indrajit replied enthusiastically.

“Oh no, she’s appeared again.” The driver said.

“Who’s woman? Do you know her?” asked the guard.

“Sir, few years ago, I was the co-driver on that fateful night, a young woman with her infant son was travelling in the AC Coach. The kid was crying a lot, so she came out and was standing on the doorway when the child slipped away from her arm. She jumped after him to save but both of the died that night. The bodies were found in the morning by the villagers.”

Indrajit was visibly shaken. The driver put a hand around his shoulder and assured him, “She only shows up once in a while but has never harmed anyone.”

The guard hurried everyone back in the train and signaled the driver to continue. Indrajit thought he wouldn’t get any more sleep that night. However, the gentle swinging of the train put him to sleep anyways.

The sudden jerk woke him up. All his senses became hyper active as the crying of a baby wafted through the air. He sat up and froze instantly… the woman with the infant was sitting on the berth right opposite his.

Posted on by Aranyascope

The Diary of Anama (the Unknown)

Our dedicated rag buyer (mainly old newspaper, magazine, glass bottles and old utensils) comes every quarter to pickup from our home. Sometimes, he brings some old books which if I like, buy them from him. Last week when he came, he had an old leather folder diary amongst the books. I was intrigued and bought it from him, hoping to get a refill and polish the leather to make it new.

In the evening, I took out the diary, the first page just had the name of the owner, Sanjeev, no surname, no address or contact details. The pages had lost some color turning them off-white… the initial pages turned out to be regular entries of the day’s events, nothing exciting. There were few blank pages and then a story unfolded as I read on…

Tuesday March 17

Today, out of the blue, I received a letter from grandpa-2 (my father’s uncle). Two years ago, he suddenly left home in search of his son who had gone missing during a college excursion. He did not inform anyone at home about his or my cousin’s whereabouts and we assumed the worst has happened to both of them. Now, this letter from him puzzled me…

“Dear Sanjeev,

By the time you receive this letter, I may not be alive anymore. If you can, please come immediately to Narottampur. You have to take the train to Dhanbad, then by bus to Shikarpur and from there you can take the rickshaw to Onkarnath Ashram at Narottampur. Please ask anyone in the Ashram for the house of Govindram, they will direct you. Yes, people here know me by that name only. In case I die before meeting you, please do my final rites at home.

Love and blessings

Grandpa-2”      

Wednesday March 18

The whole affair of grandpa-2 is very confusing… living under a pseudo name at a far away place like Narottampur in the ashram of some Onkarnath… I don’t know what to make of this.

Thursday March 19

I took the overnight train to Dhanbad, just told my parents that I am going out for three days on office work.

Friday March 20

I reached Narottampur in the afternoon. The place looked more like a large village rather than a town, sparsely populated with houses standing randomly in the distance. A passerby directed me to the Onkarnath Ashram, a barricaded large plot with a temple and few quarters for the inmates. I found a priest inside the temple and asked him about Govindram’s house.

“Where are you coming from?” the priest asked with a look of bewilderment.

“Kolkata”

“You have come from far to Narottampur to meet Govindram, what’s the matter?”

“Something special, you won’t understand.”

“Govindram doesn’t meet anyone. Moreover, the house where he lives is not good, it has bad reputation. We don’t go anywhere near it. You shouldn’t go there, if you take my advice.”

“I have to go.”

The priest was not impressed, reluctantly he directed him to Govindram’s house, “Go straight, after you cross the pond on your left, you can see his house next to it.”

I followed the direction and soon could see a single storey dilapidated structure by the pond. Getting closer, I could see wild shrubs and grass growing all over the place. There was a narrow path leading to the building and followed it to reach the house. The door was wide open, I looked inside to find a middle-aged man preparing lunch. “Does Govindram Ji live here?” I asked.

The man looked at me with astonishment, then excitedly asked, “Are you the grandson of Sahib?”

“Yes, I have come to meet my grandpa.” I didn’t know who the Sahib is but guessed he is my grandpa-2.

“Please come inside, Sahib is not too well.”

I followed him to an inner room, a large cot occupying most of the space and a skeletal figure lying on it. Even though he was in complete disarray, I could recognise my grandpa-2.  His eyes lit up when he saw me and he tried to sit up but couldn’t… I rushed forward to hold him. He took my hands in his and said, “I am glad you could make it on time. I have been waiting for you.”

“What happened to you grandpa? Tomorrow, I am taking you to Kolkata for treatment.”

“I am not going anywhere. Now that you are here, I can die peacefully.”

“How did you land up here in Narottampur?”

Grandpa-2 was in visible discomfort, he slowly took out a notebook kept under his pillow and handing it over to me said, “I have written down everything in this notebook, you will know all the details once you read it. You must follow the instructions… Sitaram will help you. The devil will try to stop you. But don’t be scared, the god will help you.”

Before he could say anything more, a bout of cough stopped him. He again tried to sit up with great difficulty, I helped him sit and asked Sitaram to get a glass of water. He took a sip from the glass and looked at me, his eyes had lost all colors, he started shivering and that moment shouted, “There, he is…he has come to claim my body. Run, run away…”

Grandpa’s held tilted on its side, body gave away, I checked the non-existent pulse.

“Grandpa is dead. Please call some neighbour for the last rites.” I told Sitaram.

“No one will come, you and I will have to do the cremation. We will cremate him on the banks of the pond only. I will go and get the necessary items from the market. You stay with him.”

I took out some money and gave them to Sitaram. I was feeling bad and frustrated… I couldn’t save my grandpa-2, I wanted to take him back with me but failed. I sat there grieving. Suddenly, my eyes caught the sight of the notebook that grandpa-2 had given me, awhile ago. I opened it. There is no mention of any date or year but I could make out that grandpa-2 had been writing for quite some time. The style of writing is like a diary without dates.

Today is the Friday, I have come to Gopalpur in search of my son, Sushant. Some acquaintance in Dhanbad informed that a young boy of Sushant’s description has been seen in the vicinity of the ashram of a tantrik near the river, next to the cremation ground. On the other side of the river is the forest, no residential quarters in the vicinity.

As I reached the ashram, the tantrik shouted, “Come here, I know who you are looking for, he is with me only.”  

I sat at the feet of the tantrik crying, “Where’s my son Sushant, please tell me…take me to him, I want to see him right now.”

The tantrik ruffled my hair and soothingly said, “You have come from far, take rest now, I will take you to him at night.”

I could barely wait for the nightfall and visited the tantrik as soon as it became dark. “Please take me to my son, wherever he is” I requested the tantrik.

The tantrik looked at me with burning eyes that put shiver down my spine. The tantrik did not utter any word but signalled me to follow him. We reached behind the ashram where a dome shaped structure lay abandoned. The tantrik unlocked the door and asked me to enter. No lights were there so I switched on my torch. I saw a staircase going down to the basement, the tantrik commanded me to go down to the basement.

The basement room wasn’t too big, a trident has been placed in the middle of the room and large wooden trunk lay by the wall. The tantrik asked me to open the trunk.

As soon as I lifted the lid of the trunk, a putrid smell hit my nostrils. What’s inside? I focused the torch inside the trunk and let out a cry. Sushant is lying inside like a stone sculpture as if in a deep slumber. I tried to touch him, lift him out of the trunk but the tantrik stopped me, “Don’t touch him.”

The tantrik closed the lid of the trunk. I cried out, “Please, I won’t go anywhere without my son.”

The tantrik spoke softly, “Sushant is no longer yours or mine, he has gone to another world.”

“Then why have you kept his body in this trunk?” I asked defiantly.

“Come up with me, I will explain.” The tantrik said.

We came up and sat down on the porch of the tantrik’s hut. We were sitting facing each other, his eyes were burning from the smoke of the cannabis. He took few quick puffs of the cannabis and started speaking, “When I found your son, he was in a very bad shape, running high fever and unconscious under the Ashoka tree.”

“How did he reach here?”

“I don’t know, maybe he was going somewhere else but got lost. I was coming from the cremation ground when I saw him and brought him here. I tried to save him but he passed away after three days. Before he died, he called out for you.”

“When did he die?”

“About a fortnight ago. I knew, you will come looking for him. That’s why I have kept his body in the basement. It is because of my occult powers that his body hasn’t decomposed yet.”

I was finding it difficult to believe the tantrik but before I could say anything, he said, “You rest now, I have to go the cremation ground for the rituals. I will see you in the morning.”

I sat there alone, the thoughts of Sushant kept haunting me. The approaching footsteps on the dry leaves broke my reverie, I looked up to find the disciple of the tantrik, Shivratan coming my way. He had brought food for me. He looked afraid, he checked the surrounding to be sure there was no else, then whispered, “Please run away from here now, immediately. The spirits of the netherworld will swoop down any moment now.”

“My son is here, I can’t leave him behind.”

“Who is your son?”

“Sushant, he is in the basement of the dome room behind the ashram.”

“Oh my God, that kid is your son? You will hear him cry for help, very soon.”

“But, he is dead.”

Shivratan, visibly shaken, again looked around and spoke in a low voice, “The tantrik, through his occult powers have kept his soul inside the body. The soul is trying to release but can’t and that’s why it cries for help every night.”

“But the tantrik said that he has kept him there for me.”

“Lies. If you can, please release his soul from the body.”

There was footstep approaching us, Shivratan got up saying, “Don’t say a word to the tantrik otherwise he will kill me and keep my soul in the trunk.”

Shivratan left in a hurry; I sat there alone again. Suddenly, I heard someone crying in the distance. It was a cry of extreme pain. I came out and walked towards the crying sound… it stopped as suddenly as it had started. I could hear the winds and the sound of waves hitting the shore. I came back. The day’s events and the exhaustion were too much, I found a cot inside the hut and crashed on it.

I felt Sushant is standing in front of me, his body is crumpling in pain. The face is white, devoid of color, the eyes begging for mercy. He spoke but I couldn’t make out what, I felt his pain and screamed aloud. I woke up and found myself alone sitting on the cot.

In the morning, I told the tantrik, “I want to cremate my son’s remains.”

The tantrik looked at me gravely for sometime then said, “I will bring him back to life.”

I understood that the tantrik has some ulterior motive, he won’t allow me to cremate my son. He will keep the body in the basement for his occult practice.

The miserable face of Sushant kept haunting me. I decided to bring out his body and cremate it somehow. Shivratan realised my determination and came to me as soon as the tantrik went to the river for bathing, “You can’t do anything during the day. Once the tantrik goes to the cremation ground for the rituals, we will bring out the body and cremate it.”

“If he gets to know that you helped me, he will kill you.” I warned him.

“I will run away before he realises it.” Shavratan assured me.

 The day passed stressfully for I didn’t know what to expect when Shivratan and I attempt to cremate my son. By evening the tension was palpable, I couldn’t sit anymore; I went out to the river front to calm my nerves. I saw the tantrik walk out from the ashram heading towards the cremation ground. I walked back to the ashram to find Shivratan waiting for me. He had managed to steal the key to the dome room. We silently went to there and Shivratan unlocked the door. He was visibly afraid so I asked him stay out of sight and went down to retrieve my son’s mortal remains.

I opened the lid of the trunk, Sushant looked same as I had seen him yesterday. With some effort I pulled him out and lifted him on my shoulder ready to go up the stairs. Just then I froze at the sight of the tantrik standing at the top. His fiery eyes were ready to burn me to ashes. He jumped down and shoved me down to the ground. He picked up the body of Sushant and climbing the stairs said, “I am taking him with me, I will lock you up here for eternity.”

At that moment, the idea of revenge is all that I could think of… I picked up the trident and stabbed the tantrik with humongous strength. He fell down the stairs to his death. I lifted up the mortal remains of my son which started to decompose rapidly. The occult powers of the tantrik was not working anymore. Shivratan, probably had ran away seeing the tantrik, so I carried my son’s body to the riverfront and arranging the wood, lit the pyre.

I thought of returning home but realised that I have committed a murder… what if the police comes after me there… the family name would tarnish. In the wee hours, I left Gopalpur getting into the first train that came on the platform. I had no clue where I am heading but when the train stopped at the Dhanbad station I got down there along with few other sanyasis. We walked through the day and reached Shikarpur in the evening. We took shelter at an abandoned house the zamindar. We had a frugal dinner and slept on the veranda.

I don’t know what time it was when I felt a sudden storm swept over me. Instantly I woke up and saw the tantrik standing a few feet away looking at me with bloodshot eyes, ready to burn me to ashes. I screamed, when my fellow sanyasis came, the tantrik had disappeared. I realized, the tantrik even after death will not leave me.

Next day along with the sanyasis, I came here at the Onkarnath Ashram. As soon as I retired for the bed, the tantrik started harassing me, I couldn’t sleep a wink throughout the night.

I left the ashram as morning broke, no point in involving others in my fight with the tantrik. I wandered around the town till I found this abandoned house. I decided to stay put there fending off the nefarious intents of the tantrik. I can’t explain in words, how I have lived for so long despite the daily harassment by the dead tantrik. People around got to know that I deal with the spirits and started avoiding me. Only Sitaram stayed on with me taking care maybe because I had taken care of him when he was down with small pox and the villagers had thrown him out from the village. I brought him here and looked after him till he was healthy again. Now, he is stays with me all day and goes back to his home at night. Every night, the tantrik comes to room to scare me to death, harassing me… I know my death is imminent… only then I will be free from the tentacles of the tantrik, perhaps.

The tantrik will use all his might to capture my soul and convert me into a zombie, Sitaram can’t resist him. I pray to God to save my soul.

There was nothing more in the notebook. I waited for the return of Sitaram with the items required for the last rites of my grandpa-2. It was getting dark with clouds forming in the distant horizon. I realized, a thunderstorm is more than a possibility.

Sitaram came with the items along with a young man, “He is Divakar, I brought him to help us.”

“Let’s hurry before the thunderstorm strikes.” I urged them.

By the time the pyre was set and we brought the body of grandpa-2, the thunderstorm lashed the surrounding with fury, heavy rain poured down incessantly. There was no option but wait for the rain to stop. I was feeling scared, I kept a firm hold of grandpa’s hand. I had a feeling that some unknown force was trying loosen my grip. The intensity of the storm was getting stronger instead of relenting. The sky was lighting up frequently with lightening strikes. Suddenly, I felt movement of grandpa’s body…  it’s moving away… I shouted, “Sitaram, some unknown force is pulling away grandpa.”

Sitaram dived on grandpa’s body to stop it from sliding away. The movement stopped immediately. The intensity of rain increased; the raindrops hit us like multiple needles piercing the body but we stayed put. The weather became unusually chill for a summer month, we were shivering. The rain relented after almost an hour. We set up the pyre again and placed the body of grandpa-2 on it, set it to fire. A sudden gust of wind doused the fire, we lit it again. The fire engulfed the pyre with fury.

Suddenly, there was a deafening screeching shout, some unseen force started throwing the burning logs from the pyre in the water. We shrunk in terror unable to move. We lost the sense of time. A sound of something rolling on the ground shook us from our numbness, grandpa’s body was rolling down to the river. I jumped over the burning pyre ignoring the flames and stopped the body from going into the watery grave. Sitaram and I lifted the half burnt muddy body of grandpa on to the pyre.

The night was giving away to the morning, in a while the dawn will break, suddenly Divakar shrieked in fear and pointed towards the pyre. What we saw was bone chilling… the burnt body of grandpa had risen from the pyre and walking towards the pond. I realised the scheming tantrik is trying to take the body of my grandpa. I was feeling helpless, with great courage I picked up a burning log and hit legs of my grandpa. The body crumpled with loud noise of breaking bones. With the help of Sitaram and Divakar, I pushed back the body on the pyre.

After a while, the dawn broke, grandpa’s body had become a pile of ash. I washed up the ashes, took a dip in the pond and felt relieved. Coming back home, I didn’t tell anyone about the unbelievable ordeal that I encountered. Who would have believed!!  

Posted on by Aranyascope · 1 Comment

Favours Returned

Dr. Sameer Roy Chowdhury got posted to Nandigaon, a rural posting for a junior doctor, although Nandigaon is more of a mufassil town than a village with a municipal hospital in place. Sameer checked into his residential quarter behind the municipal hospital and joined the hospital in the morning. There were two other doctors but they lived in their own houses in the town. All three worked out an arrangement wherein Sameer would take care of any emergency cases at night being next door to the hospital and in lieu can enjoy extra off days to visit his parents once a month. Life in the mufassil town does not offer much excitement and falls in a routine very quickly.

On that eventful rainy evening, Sameer was studying for his NEET exams for PG course, the cook had prepared the dinner and left for the day. Around 9 pm Sameer decided to have dinner and started heating up the food in the microwave. There was a knock on his door. He opened the door to find the ward-boy Gopal standing under the umbrella… “Doctor, please come quickly to the hospital, there’s an accident victim in critical condition.” Gopal said with urgency.

“Okay, you go and help Wasim to clean the wounds, I will join you soon.” Sameer replied.

He put the food back in the refrigerator, taking his white coat and locking the house he rushed to the hospital. The hospital building is single storey with a long corridor having rooms on either side. There was hardly any patient at night, therefore only a skeletal staff on the night shift. Most of the lights were switched off with only two tube lights on either end of the corridor lighting up the space. The emergency toom was right at the beginning of the corridor where Sameer found a bloodied man on the stretcher trolley, there were visible injury on his head, arm and leg, the man was crying in pain. Sameer took a quick look at the victim decided to shift him to the operation theatre (OT) for surgery, the only hope to save his life.

The male nurse, Wasim was cleaning up the wounds and dressing the area, he wanted to quickly finish the job and go home to attend family function. He said, “It is not necessary, Doctor Sahib, we can let him go after the dressing of the wounds.”

“What are you saying, Wasim? The patient is not in a state to sit up even…is there anyone from his family?” Sameer asked.

“There’s no one with him, he was lying on the road and a kind autorickshaw driver brought him here”, replied Wasim as a matter of fact.

“Let’s not waste any more time and take him to the OT” saying so, Sameer started pushing the trolley. Gopal and Wasim joined him to push the trolley. The OT, on the far end of the corridor was locked, it took some time to locate the guard and get the keys. Gopal unlocked the door, Sameer and Wasim pushed the trolley and shifted the man on the operation table.

“Wasim, please boil some water immediately while I check on the patient” Sameer commanded.

The middle-aged man from the upcountry was in a bad shape… a deep wound on the forehead, a dislocated jaw, blood oozing out from the wounded chest, suggesting broken ribcage. Sameer switched on the focus lights of the operating table and was shocked to see the man. He knew him… Subol da from his village, a gentle soul, used to work on his father’s farm. Subol da lost his wife and young son in a road accident few years ago. The tragedy was too much for him to bear and he lost his mind. Sameer’s mother used to feed him and take care of him, then one day he disappeared from the village.

Sameer called out, “Subol da, Subol da, can you hear me?”

Subol looked at Sameer, his eyes blood red, he seemed to recognise him. His lips moved a little and he said uncomprehendingly something, feebly.

“Would like to drink some water, Subol da?” Sameer asked with concern.

Gopal brought a glass of water and Sameer fed Subol a few drops, a gurgling sound came out from his throat and his head tilted on the side letting out the water from his mouth. Sameer, checked the pulse and nodded sadly at his assistants, “Subol da is no more. Gopal, please arrange to shift the body in the morgue.”

Wasim covered the body with a white sheet and asked, “Doctor, you know him?”

“Yes, he is from my village. My mother used to adore him, she took care of him after tragedy hit him when he lost his wife and son in an accident.” Sameer replied.

“Then we should inform someone in his family” Wasim said hopefully.

“There’s no one in his family. Let the police take necessary action in the morning. Meanwhile, you go and get the paperwork ready, I will wash up and write up the report.”

Sameer looked at his bloodied hands, took out the ring from his finger and began to wash. Gopal went out to call the morgue assistant.

The guard came to lock the operation theatre as Sameer was drying his hand. He went back to the emergency room to write up the report. The guard locked the room and went to his post.

As he started writing, memories flooded his mind… he remembered Subol da telling him stories when he was young, giving him a ride on his bicycle and teaching him how to cycle. He also remembered how melancholy he had become after losing his family. His mother ensured, Subol da gets proper food everyday and tried to cheer him up…

“What are you thinking, Doctor?” Wasim’s question broke his reverie. He started writing up the report and signed it putting an official stamp on the report. As he was putting the pen away, he noticed that his ring is missing. He remembered taking it out to wash his hand in the OT washbasin. The gold ring, with an amethyst stone was specially made for him by his mother, it was special. He rushed out to retrieve it from the OT.

The corridor was empty as the few patients occupying the benches have gone home after getting treated. The tube light at the other end of the corridor near the OT has started flickering, signalling time to change it. When he reached the OT door, he found it locked, he called out to Gopal to get the keys from the guard.

While waiting for Gopal to bring the key, he felt the air around him getting heavy, the flickering of the light gave an eeriness to the surrounding especially as the morgue happened to be the room opposite to the operation theatre. There was no sign of Gopal or the guard, he started walking back to look for the key himself. He took few steps but stopped at the sound of the lock being opened. He turned around to see the guard opening the OT room door. Sameer was perplexed, where did he come from? I didn’t see him coming. He thought.

After a little while, the guard came out from the room but did not look at Sameer, in fact he stood with his back facing him.

“Did you get my ring?” Sameer asked.

The guard simply stood there silently.

“What happened? Did you bring out my ring?” Sameer asked, desperation showing in his voice.

Without saying a word, the guard extended his hand backwards holding the ring. Sameer took the ring and immediately felt an icy cold wave pass through his body. He looked at the figure closely. This is not the guard, he wears a proper uniform, this one is wearing a pajama and torn shirt.

“Who are you?” Sameer called out. His voice had become shrill in unknown fear.

The man slowly turned around to face Sameer.

Sameer was shocked to find Subol da standing, the deep wound on the forehead, the incapacitated left arm dangling on the side. He let out a deafening scream and started running back to the emergency room. Then he saw Gopal and the guard coming with key.

“What happened Doctor Sahib?” Gopal asked with concern.

Sameer took hold of Gopal, shivering violently and blurted out, “Subol da.”

“What about him? Where is he? I kept his body in the morgue.” Gopal said.

“He was in front of the OT, he went in to fetch my ring from the room.” Sameer spoke haltingly, still impacted by fear. He showed them the ring on his finger.

“What are you saying sir, I locked the door myself and keys are still with me” the guard replied.

“Let’s go and check the OT.” Gopal said as he walked towards the OT. Wasim too joined them.

The OT room was locked and so was the mortuary room. Sameer spoke in a dazed state, “But, I saw Subol da going in and bringing out my ring.”

Wasim, placed his hands on Sameer’s shoulder like an elder brother and said, “Consider this as a favor returned. Your Subol da just paid back all the love and favors that your mother showered on him. The spirits do return to pay their debts.”

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Mastans: The Batch of 1980

My alma mater, Raisina Bengali School, will be celebrating Centenary on January 2, 2025, my dear friend Ashishh, asked me to write about my days in the school. I asked myself, where do I begin? Actually, it is impossible to write about the days spent in the school in few pages…memories exceed beyond terabytes… so, I decided to write few incidences that have remained imprinted in the mind.

But before that, a bit about my iconic school, Raisina Bengali School… it was Raisina Bengali Higher Secondary School when I joined in Class-IV, later when the 8+3 curriculum was replaced with 10+2, it became Raisina Bengali Senior Secondary School, but more popularly just as Raisina Bengali School… from a single school it now has 3 branches, Senior School at Mandir Marg and C R Park and a Junior School, also at C R Park.

From a humble beginning on January 2, 1925 from a shared space near the Willingdon Hospital (Dr. Ram Manohar Lohia Hospital) to the Baird Lane to the present Mandir Marg is long journey that the school covered. Shri Makhan Lal Mukherjee started the journey with just 57 eager students who were primarily the children of the government officials that moved to Delhi from Calcutta (Kolkata) when the British Govt moved its Capital to New Delhi in 1911. Today, it is one of the prominent English medium senior secondary schools with the CBSE curriculum, contributing wholesomely to the city’s educational space as also ensuring the Bangla is taught as a compulsory language till middle school.

My school is not just an education hub but deeply rooted to the Bengali culture, language and literature. Throughout its journey, the students of the school have not only excelled academically but have spread their wings successfully in the field of sports, entertainment as well as management/ governance. The iconic building of the school at Mandir Marg has been declared as a Heritage Building by the Delhi Govt. I feel extremely proud to be part of such a rich heritage.  

I joined the school in class-IV from an English-only kindergarten (nursery) school and it took me some time to adjust. For example, calling my female teachers “AUNTY” instead of “DIDIMONI” drew plenty of teasing from classmates. Soon enough, though, I settled in and became part of a close-knit group that remained fiercely loyal and together until we graduated in 1980.

THE EXTENDED FOOTBALL MATCH

We were in class 8, getting a free period because the subject teacher being on leave and non-availability of an alternative teacher, was rare phenomenon but happened once-in-while. On that fateful day, we got a free third-period and decided to play football. Normally, we would have played at the lower ground of the school premises but that day, someone suggested we go to the ground on the rocks which was quite a distance from the school premises.

Football runs in the vein of Bongs, we can play it anytime, anywhere, in any conditions for many hours together. It was no exception that day either, we played for hours, oblivious to the ‘bell’ announcing the end/beginning of a class. We even forgot about the recess and continued playing till we were exhausted. One of us, and if I am not mistaken, Amit Mukherjee went back to have water (there wasn’t any concept of water bottles then) and was ‘caught’ by our revered Shyamal Sir (Shri S. Roy Chowdhury). A twist of his ear and palm mark of Shyamal Sir on his cheek was enough for him to spill the beans. A “good boy” was sent to fetch us. We came back like a herd of sheep and received the same treatment from Shyamal Sir. The collective punishment often bonds the students in brotherhood and it was no different, for us it was a battle scar that we proudly remember and often reminiscence.

THE GHOSTLY BIOLOGY LAB

Before the new Science block came in existence, the biology lab used to be next to the watercoolers and somehow gave us jitters whenever we passed by it, maybe, because of the skeleton (real) and a number of jars of formalin solution containing different species. Barring the brilliant guys with scientific bent of mind, we generally avoided going there but when we were in class IX, it became mandatory to attend the practical classes in the lab. In one such class, Ashishh, Atish and I were a team dissecting a frog and failing miserably. On top of it, our table was next to the skeleton, we were focussing more on it than the assignment on hand.

Suddenly, Ashishh whispered, “Did you see that”?

“What?” Atish and I asked simultaneously.   

“The skeleton… it moved.” Ashishh replied, his voice wavered in unknown fear.

We would have run from there but Atish and I had an inquisitive mind and principal member of the “detective club” called We Investigate Anything (WIA), so we looked closer and indeed the hand of the skeleton was in motion, though slow, it was winter days with no source of wind inside the classroom. We were scared to death and slowly started moving out from our station. The group next to us looked at us questioningly and when we revealed, they also started to walkout, soon it became a pandemonium, none of us were willing to continue in the lab. The lab assistant, Dulari Sir had a harrowing time controlling the herd of students.

“There’s a ghost…the skeleton has come alive and moving.” Ashishh blurted out.

Dulari Sir laughed aloud and said, “Come with me and show me what you saw.”

With much reluctance we went with him to our table and pointed to the hand of the skeleton. Lo and behold, it moved again. We screamed together, “Gho…os…ttt”

Dulari Sir ignoring our screams, went ahead and shook the hand of the skeleton. PHATT, came the sound of a pebble hitting the floor… we could see an overturned beetle lying on the floor. Dulari Sir laughed hysterically at our stupidity. Narayan Sir (Shri N. C. Mukherjee), our biology teacher mockingly hailed us “the brave trio”. It became a running joke for the rest of our school days.   

ENCOUNTER OF DIFFERENT KIND  

Sanyal Sir (Shri B. Sanyal), our English teacher was a terror for the students across classes. As junior students, we used to avoid going anywhere near him, not knowing which action of ours would bring his wrath upon us. As luck would have it, he became our class-teacher when were in class-X, we dreaded our first meeting with him.

After the roll call, he asked us to introduce ourselves. Our timid voice did not reach him. He roared, “Haven’t you guys eaten anything? Speak up loudly, I can’t hear you.”

Once the introduction was over, he said, “My teaching style is different, I won’t make you rote learn the course but make you love the language. Let me see, what level of English you guys know. Tell me the meaning of the “Gunny Bag”. There was pin-drop silence in the class, no one dared to venture an answer. He looked at Biswanath and asked, “You tell me.” Bishu mumbled incoherently which enraged him immensely, he got up from his chair walking up to Bishu, ready to thrash him when a voice from another corner said, “Bosta” (Bengali for sack). He turned around to see the voice but all lips were sealed by then. A few unfortunate classmates received his wrath that morning but thereafter he mellowed down and became really fond of us. He would go on to shield us from the higher ups for all our sins. He became particularly fond of Atish and me… often referring us as the twins lost in Kumbh mela. I vividly remember his guidance after the “gunny bag” incidence wherein he told us, “Stop thinking in Bangla and then answering in English. Start thinking in English if you want to master both the spoken and written language.” It became a mantra for me.

Another teacher who inspired and shaped my personae was our Principal Shri A. N. Banerjee. He very early on, realized that the students were intelligent and bright, but they lack the confidence of public speaking. He ruled that each and every student must speak on any subject in their preferred language for 5 minutes during the assembly. The initiative helped many of my peers in later days of their career.

I must also mention here of Tiwari Sir (Shri P. G. Tiwari) who has been a father figure during my school days. I have never seen him getting angry even when we made silly mistakes or have been raucous in the class. His premature passing away left a big void for the school as well as for the students.

The other teachers that left a lasting impression on me are Prasanta Sir (Shri P. Roy Chowdhury) for his patience and humbleness. He made me love the subject through his unique way of teaching.

As I progressed to higher classes, I became scared of maths and my grades dropped consistently. Shyamal Sir (Shri S. Roy Chowdhury), came to my rescue spending hours with me to help me get over my fears of mathematics. His untiring tutoring propelled me take the subject in college as well as clear the exams with good marks.

THE HOLI INCIDENT

We were in class-XI and exams round the corner as well as the festival of colours, HOLI. Our Principal, Amarnath Sir, during the assembly barred us from playing with colours in the school premises. If he hadn’t said so, we would not have given any thoughts about it but now the rebel inside us woke up and we decided to defy the order. A day before the Holi, Bishu (Bishwanath) brought packets of ABIR (Gulal or coloured powder); during the recess time, the entire class including the girls were plastered in myriad hues of ABIR. Our best efforts to wash them before returning to the class did not work, we all looked like an army of monkeys.   

Someone must have complained to the Principal Sir; cane in hand, he stormed into our class and marched us to his chamber.

“Didn’t I tell you not to play with colors in the school premises?”

“Yes” we said.

“Then why did you do it?”

Silence.

“Who brought the colours?” he asked losing his patience.

Silence again.

“I am asking you again, who brought the colours?”

“The colours were with me.” This time Bishwanath spoke up.

Amarnath Sir ignoring his answer, repeated his question and Bishwanath kept replying that the colours were with him. This continued for a while.

We all received canings, but not one of us broke the code of silence. That day, we truly understood the meaning of OMERTA—the brotherhood of silence—and the importance of phrasing questions correctly to get the right answers.

THE DIWALI EXPLOSION

We hadn’t forgotten the HOLI punishment at the hands of our principal, Shri A. N. Banerjee Sir and in our last academic year (class XII Commerce) decided to leave a lasting impression of our mischief. In the morning assembly before the Diwali holidays, he prohibited use of crackers including bombs during school hours. During the recess, few of us went to the nearby market and bought the crackers.

In Classes XI and XII, students could opt for either Mathematics or Bengali. This meant that one group often had a free period while the other was in class. On that chosen day, the Bengali group was in class, and we—the Mathematics group—had a free period after recess. Perfect conditions for our plan.

We discussed our strategy and promised ourselves that none of us would get caught this time. All the bombs (crackers) were perfectly timed by removing some of the gunpowder from the fuselage ensuring that we were not in the vicinity when it exploded.

As we were placing the first one on the windowsill of the toilet adjacent to the Principal Sir’s chamber, Tiwari Sir caught us. Instead of reprimanding us, he was more concerned that the bomb would explode on our face!!

The last one was placed on top of the nameplate outside the Principal Sir’s chamber… when it exploded, we were in deep discussion with Sanyal Sir near the Science Block. He smiled and said, “I know, who did this but your secrets are safe with me.”

In all, more than a dozen bomb exploded at different locations within the school.  We chose the spots carefully to avoid anyone getting hurt. The Principal Sir was convinced of our involvement in the cracker explosions but could not prove it. The concept of OMERTA prevailed.

DISCLAIMER

The mischievous incidents described here should not be taken too seriously. They were merely youthful pranks. We respected our teachers deeply then, and we still do now. Without their guidance, patience, and love, we might never have realized our potential. Instead of becoming wayward vagabonds, we grew into capable adults—thanks in no small part to the teachers and the environment at Raisina Bengali School.

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Those were the Days

Sharing a nice little post received today…

My mum used to make veg sandwiches, chop cucumber n tomatoes and spread butter on bread on the same cutting board with the same knife, but we didn’t seem to get food poisoning.

Our school sandwiches were wrapped in wax paper in a brown paper bag, not in ice pack coolers and stayed that way till lunchtime but I can’t remember anyone getting e Coli

We dipped our feet in lakes and ponds and didnt come home half dead with infection.

We all took P.T….. And risked permanent injury with a pair of white keds from Batas, instead of having cross-training athletic shoes with air cushion soles and built in light reflectors that cost as much as a small car. I can’t recall any injuries but they must have happened because they tell us how much safer we are now if we spend thousands on branded running shoes

We got a slap at home for doing something wrong at school, they used to call it discipline, yet we all grew up to accept the rules and to honour & respect those older than us.

We chanted the mathematics tables, learned to read and write, do maths and spell almost all the words needed to write a grammatically correct letter……., FUNNY THAT!!

We all said prayers in school irrespective of our religion, or sang the national anthem and no one got upset.

Staying in detention after school caught all sorts of negative attention and we tried not to mention it at home.

I thought that I was supposed to accomplish something before I was allowed to be proud of myself.

I just can’t recall how bored we were without smart phones, computers, Play Station, Nintendo, Facebook, Snapchat, WhatsApp, Instagram, YouTube, etc. X-box or 270 digital TV cable stations. We weren’t!!

Oh yeah … And where were the antibiotics and sterilization kit when I got that bee sting or bruised our knee? I could even have been killed!

We played catch or cricket on vacant sites and when we got hurt, mum pulled out the bottle of iodine or Dettol and we dreaded the sting or then it was calendula and mercury chrome.

Now it’s a trip to the emergency room, followed by a 10 day dose of antibiotics and then mum calls the lawyer to sue the site owner for not putting up a fence.

To top it off, not a single person I knew had ever been told that they were from a dysfunctional family. How could we possibly have known that?

We never needed to get into group therapy and/or anger management classes. If there was ever anything psychologically wrong with us there were ten people at home waiting to tell us.

We were obviously so duped by so many societal ills, that we didn’t even notice that the entire country wasn’t taking Prozac!

How did we ever survive?

LOVE TO ALL OF US WHO SHARED THIS ERA.
AND TO ALL WHO DIDN’T, SORRY FOR WHAT YOU MISSED.
I WOULDN’T TRADE IT FOR ANYTHING!

Source: Social Media

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Ajanta-Ellora Sojourn

Let’s go somewhere in the coming week, declared Deepika.

Where? I asked knowing well that I will have to search the destination. I shortlisted few places… Varanasi, Corbett, Kanataal, Aurangabad and Goa. All of them are drivable as far as I am concerned.

Let’s go to Aurangabad but fly down because I have to be back by Saturday. So, in 24 hours, the flight ticket bought and hotel booked. Sumita (Deepika’s friend) joined us this time.

Chhatrapati Sambhaji Nagar (Aurangabad)

There are four direct flights to Aurangabad, 2 in the morning and 2 in the evening. We took the evening Indigo flight and reached Aurangabad around 6:15 pm and in the hotel by 7pm. There was a bit of confusion at the airport… Deepika had booked a taxi service for our entire stay right from airport pickup to drop. She received the vehicle number and we were surprised to find a Toyota Innova and then another group of seven also claimed it to be theirs’ but we beat them in occupying. The driver was in a dilemma and called the owner to explain the confusion. The owner realised his mistake and gave us the number of another vehicle, fortunately, the car, a Suzuki Desire was there at the airport parking and came to us in quick time.

Once we checked into the Hotel Click, suggested by my friend Tapas, we freshened up and went to The Bhoj Thali Restaurant at CIDCO, next to Fern’s Residency. The speciality of this restaurant is the Thali consisting of over 21+ items and unlimited regional delicacies and non-alcoholic local drinks. We were not very hungry but still enjoyed the tasty platter and when we thought we are done, they brought Khichdi and Rice which we had to decline.

Ajanta Caves

Ajanta Caves are about 100 km from Aurangabad on way to Jalna and takes approx. 2.5 – 3.0 hours, most of the road stretch is in good condition with work in progress at few points. We had a quick breakfast and by the time we are done, the cab also arrived at the hotel.

We checked about the road condition with the young driver, Samadhan (Solution) and he confirmed that roads have been re-laid/newly constructed however there are patches where work is still going on. He said that he makes at least ten trips to Ajanta every month.

It took us about 2.5 hours to reach our destination. We paid for the parking and use of utilities and was told to proceed for the bus which will take us to the cave site. The bus ride costs INR 30 per person each way for non-AC coach and INR 35 for AC, though I couldn’t find any AC coach. The drive was through serpentine hilly track of 4.5 km and took about 10 minutes.

The Ajanta Caves dates back to 2nd century BCE through 6th century CE and had been a sanctuary for the Buddhist Monks and their disciples. The caves are adorned with sculptures as well as paintings that still reflect vibrant colours. There are 30 caves but some of them remains unfinished…the important ones to explore are 1, 2, 16, 17 & 19 for mural paintings and 1, 4, 17, 24 & 26 for sculptures. The cave number 9, 10, 19, 26 & 29 are Chaitya Halls while the others are Viharas. Out of these, Chaitya caves 9, 10 and Viharas 8, 12, 13 & 30 belongs to Hinayan system where instead of the Buddha Idol, the symbols associated with Gautam Buddha such as Dharma Chakra in the shape of Lotus, Stupa and the Bodhi Tree were worshipped through 2nd century BCE to 2nd century CE. The other caves excavated after long break belongs to the 5th & 6th century CE and belongs to the Mahayana sect. These caves have the image and idol of Gautam Buddha in various postures.

The theme of the paintings is Jataka Tales right from the birth of Buddha to his attaining Moksha. Similar themes can be found in the sculptures as well. The fascinating details in the sculptures and the use of vivid colours in the paintings made us wonder at the creativity and workmanship of our ancestors. They not only hand carved those caves cutting up the mountains, large enough for habitation but created chambers for different activities without any modern tools and machines. We were told that the caves were carved out at different periods over many centuries. After the decline of Buddhism some time in the 6th century CE, the caves were abandoned and remain hidden behind thick foliage and jungle for many centuries. It was accidentally discovered by a British Cavalry Officer named Captain John Smith in 1819 while hunting a tiger, he stumbled upon the horseshoe shaped rock with many caves having Buddhist artifacts inside…couldn’t resist to leave a graffiti message on a painting in the cave number 10, “John Smith, 28th Cavalry, 28th April 1819”.

We spent more than 3.5 hours exploring the caves and each one fascinated us with its creativity and workmanship…told us stories of the bygone era. Even the unfinished caves have their own stories to tell if only someone has the patience to sit back and meditate.

On the way back to the parking, we stopped at a shop to buy few rough-cut stones like amethyst and crystal. I bought two idols of Ganesha and Radha-Krishna as an act of charity from a roadside vendor.

While driving back, Samadhan, our driver received a call from his uncle that his father had a paralytic stroke and taken to the hospital. On returning to the city, he still took us to the shop specializing in Paithani Silk sarees and dress material as he had promised to Deepika and Sumita. I pray to Madhav for his father’s quick and complete recovery.

We rested for about half hour in our rooms while our phones were charging then went to another famous restaurant of Aurangabad called The Great Sagar specialising in Mughal cuisine. We were told their specialty dish is Naan Khaliya, a non-veg preparation of either chicken or mutton and served with thick naan or Khamiri Roti. It sounded to be a good dish and Sumita decided to try it out the chicken version, I wasn’t so sure, so opted for the tried n tested mutton biriyani while poor vegetarian Deepika was stuck with dal-tadka, paneer and roti. As it turned out, the Naan Khaliya is a overhyped dish…it is basically a spicy soupy curry of chicken or mutton with naan, a damp squib. Deepika found the vegetarian dishes below par, but the biriyani was decent flavourful with well cooked mutton pieces. Overall, it was not a pleasant dining experience especially after our visit to the Bhoj Restaurant.

Back in the hotel, we played Rummy till midnight… needless to say I did not win a single hand.

Ellora Caves

We started a bit late for the Ellora caves as the cab designated to us had a flat tyre and came late to pick us. We had earmarked few other places to see besides Ellora. Our first destination was Ghrishneshwar Temple, close to the Ellora caves. Ghrishneshwar means “lord of compassion”.

Ghrishneshwar Jyotirlinga is a Hindu temple of Shiva in Verul village of Aurangabad district and considered as the 12th Jyotirlinga mandir. The mandir is a national protected site, 1.5 Km away from the Ellora Caves and approx. 30 kilometres north-west of the city Aurangabad. Ghrishneshwar finds mention in various scriptures such as Shiva Purana, Skanda Purana, Ramayana and the Mahabharata.

The temple structure, just like the Somnath Temple in Gujarat, was relentlessly attacked and destroyed by the Delhi Sultanate in 13th and 14th centuries. It was re-built by Maloji Bhosale, grandfather of Shivaji Maharaj in the 16th century only to see another destruction by the barbaric Mughal empire. The current form of the temple was re-built in the 18th century under the sponsorship of Queen Ahilyabai Holkar of Indore. Today, it is an important and active pilgrimage site of the Hindus and attracts devotees from across the country. There is no bar in entering the temple premises and its inner chambers, but to enter the sanctum sanctorum or garbha-gruha of the temple, the local Hindu tradition demands that men must go bare-chested just like in Guruvayur Temple in Kerala.

Deepika and Sumita went inside the temple while I remained outside guarding their belongings. Mobile phones and cameras are not allowed inside, like in many other Hindu pilgrimage sites, a practice, I neither understand nor support. It took them more than half hour to perform the rituals and we started off for the Ellora Caves.

As you enter the Ellora Cave complex, the majestic Kailasha Temple (cave no.16) welcomes you. The Kailasha temple is the largest of the rock-cut temples at the Ellora Caves. A megalith carved from a cliff face, it is considered one of the most remarkable cave temples in the world because of its size, architecture, and sculptural treatment. It has been called “the climax of the rock-cut phase of Indian architecture“. The top of the structure over the sanctuary is 107 ft above the level of the court below. Although the rock face slopes downwards from the rear of the temple to the front, archaeologists believe it was sculpted from a single rock. The complete temple complex gives an impression of a Chariot on the move.

The Kailasa Temple (Cave 16) is the largest of the 34 Brahminical, Buddhist, and Jain cave temples and monasteries known collectively as the Ellora Caves, ranging for over two kilometers along the sloping basalt cliff at the site. Most of the excavation of the temple is generally attributed to the eighth century Rashtrakuta King Krishna-I (756 – 773), with some elements completed later. The temple architecture shows traces of Pallava and Chalukya styles. The temple contains a number of relief and free-standing sculptures on a grand scale equal to the architecture, though only traces remain of the paintings which originally decorated it.

The Kailasa Temple is notable for its vertical excavation—carvers started at the top of the original rock and excavated downward. The traditional methods were rigidly followed by the master architect which could not have been achieved by excavating from the front.

“The local Marathi legend, Katha-Kalpataru by Krishna Yajnavalki (c. 1470-1535 CE) mentions that the local king suffered from a severe disease. His queen prayed to the god Ghrishneshwar (Shiva) at Elapura (Ellora) to cure her husband. She vowed to construct a temple if her wish was granted, and promised to observe a fast until she could see the shikhara (top) of this temple. After the king was cured, she requested him to build a temple immediately, but multiple architects declared that it would take months to build a temple complete with a shikhara. One architect named Kokasa assured the king that the queen would be able to see the shikhara of a temple within a week’s time. He started building the temple from the top, by carving a rock. He was able to finish the shikhara within a week’s time, enabling the queen to give up her fast. The temple was named Manikeshwar after the queen.”

The entrance to the temple courtyard features a low Gopuram. Most of the deities at the left of the entrance are Shaivite (followers of Shiva) while on the right-hand side the deities are Vaishnavites (followers of Vishnu). A two-storeyed gateway opens to reveal a U-shaped courtyard, edged by a columned arcade three storeys high. The arcades are punctuated by huge sculpted panels, and alcoves containing enormous sculptures of a variety of deities. Some of the most famous sculptures are Shiva the ascetic, Shiva the dancer, Shiva being warned by Parvati about the demon Ravana and river goddess Ganges coming out of Shiva’s knotted hair.

Within the courtyard, there is a central shrine dedicated to Shiva, and an image of his mount Nandi (the sacred bull). The central shrine housing the lingam features a flat-roofed mandapa supported by 16 pillars, and a Dravidian shikhara. The shrine – complete with pillars, windows, inner and outer rooms, gathering halls, and an enormous stone lingam at its heart – is carved with niches, plasters, windows as well as images of deities, maithuna (erotic male and female figures) and other figures. As is traditional in Shiva temples, Nandi sits on a porch in front of the central temple. The Nandi mandapa and main Shiva temple are each about 7 metres high, and built on two storeys. The lower storeys of the Nandi mandapa are both solid structures, decorated with elaborate illustrative carvings. The base of the temple has been carved to suggest that elephants are holding the structure aloft. A rock bridge connects the Nandi mandapa to the porch of the temple. The base of the temple hall features scenes from Mahabharata and Ramayana. There are five detached shrines in the temple premises; three of these are dedicated to the river goddesses: Ganga, Yamuna and Saraswati. There are two Dwajasthambs (pillars with flagstaff) in the courtyard. A notable sculpture is that of the Ravana attempting to lift Mount Kailasa.

After being awestruck by the magnitude of the marvelous Kailasha Temple, we proceeded to see the cave nos. 30 to 34, the Jain excavations. We were taken there by an electric van… the distance almost 2 km from the entrance gate. The cave number 32 is the biggest of the caves having a large hall with antechambers and the sculpture of Lord Mahavira. Its 2-storey cave with steep unequal stairs going up to reveal a serene room fit for meditation. There is a connecting narrow corridor to the cave no.34. We were sceptical of the unequal stairs and decided to climb down carefully, no point in injuring oneself at this ripe age.

The EV took us to the cave number 29, another massive cave structure, 46 metre wide and almost 6 metre high. It has a group of halls in the form of a cross with wide columns and a pair stone lion guarding the entrance. Everything in this cave is huge… Lord Siva with eight arms depicting the fearsome destroyer. Another colossal Shiva in Nataraj dance posture in the portico.   

We were dropped back to the main entrance gate from where we walked towards the cave nos. 10 to 1 but midway, Sumita decided to stay back because of exhaustion. These are primarily Buddhist excavation quite similar to the ones at Ajanta. We quickly reviewed these and left for the Bhadra Maruti Temple dedicated to Lord Hanuman.

At the Bhadra Maruti Temple, located in Khuldabad, the idol of Lord Hanuman is portrayed in a reclining or sleeping posture. It is one of only three places where Lord Hanuman is represented in a sleeping posture. The other two places are on the banks of Ganges at Triveni Sangam in Prayagraj, Uttar Pradesh and at Jam Sawali, Madhya Pradesh.

“According to a folklore, in ancient times the Khuldabad was known as Bhadravati and the ruler was a noble king named Bhadrasena, who was an ardent devotee of Lord Rama and used to sing songs in His praise. One day Lord Hanuman descended in the place, listening to the devotional songs sung in praise of his master, Lord Rama. He was mesmerized and without his knowledge took a reclining posture – called ‘Bhava-samadhi’ (yogic posture). King Bhadrasena, when he had finished his song, was astonished to find Hanuman in Samadhi before him. He requested Hanuman to reside there forever and bless his as well as Lord Rama’s devotees.”

Normally, I don’t go inside any religious places unless it has some architectural, historical significance but it had very little crowd and on Deepika’s insistence went inside. It’s a comparatively small temple, quite clean. Inside the temple it was clearly mentioned that photography is not allowed but there were people, not devotees…(they can’t be called devotees if they do not have the basic sense of discipline) rampantly ignoring/ disobeying the order and taking pictures as well as selfies. I felt disgusted at their callousness. Within the complex, there exists another small open temple dedicated to Shani Dev. Just outside the temple perimeter, some vendors were selling Puja Samagri including mustard oil in a small bottle, Deepika was about to buy when I noticed that only male members are allowed to do the puja. I do not know the reason behind it and will ask my learned friend Acharya Indrajit Ji but found it very patriarchal, especially in these modern times. Another interesting thing I learned recently that the Shani Dev idol is never covered from the top, it stands under the open sky irrespective of weather.

Sumita wanted to buy Paithani Saree and Himroo Shawl right from the time we decided to come to Aurangabad. These are speciality items of the region and well known even beyond the borders. While coming from the city, we had seen few shops selling such items. I went with them in the first shop but realised that it was not for me, I decided to sit in the car while my phone got charged, allowing me to take a quick power nap that got me recharged for the evening.

We visited the Bibi ka Maqbara in the evening after sunset, it was all lighted up making it look surreal and beautiful. I haven’t seen Taj Mahal at night… I thought if this looks so beautiful, then Taj would be magnificent majestic with its overpowering presence under skilful lighting arrangements.

“The Bibi Ka Maqbara is a tomb located in the city of Aurangabad, Maharashtra. It was commissioned in 1660 by the Mughal emperor Aurangzeb’s son, Prince Azam Shah in the memory of his loving mother Dilras Banu Begum also known as Rabia-ul-Durrani. It bears a striking resemblance to the Taj Mahal, the mausoleum of Aurangzeb’s mother, Mumtaz Mahal and that is why it is also called the Taj of the Deccan. The mausoleum was intended to rival the Taj Mahal, but the decline in architecture and proportions of the structure (both due to the severe budgetary constraints imposed by Aurangzeb) had resulted in a different and particular monument with its own significant beauty.”    

It was time for dinner by the time we finished exploring the monument… we were hungry too as the last meal we had was our breakfast. Initially, we thought of visiting Lok Seva Restaurant, a multi-cuisine restaurant serving both veg and non-veg dishes but Deepika and Sumita wanted to revisit Bhoj Thali Restaurant. We are living in democracy!!

This time we went to their second outlet, newer and well-appointed décor’ at Pushpa Nagari, Samarth Nagar. We knew what to expect and were ready to rejoice the dishes. I can’t say about my companions but I had a hearty dinner to my complete satisfaction even though it was vegetarian.

Later, coming back to our room, we played Rummy again and this time I won few hands. We slept late after a video chat with Ayush-Rajashree calling from Rome.

Freestyle Roaming

After breakfast, we checked out from the hotel but kept our luggage in the cloakroom of the hotel. We have kept the day for local sightseeing and shopping, though I doubted if we would get anything worthwhile to carry back to Delhi.

Our first destination was Soneri Mahal, located inside the campus of Dr. Bhim Rao Ambedkar University. The main building is constructed across the ridge of a hill and is surrounded by lush green trees, gardens, and fields. The palace was said to feature paintings made of real gold, thus giving it its name. The entrance is a solidly built structure with fortifications. The Hathikhana gate has ornate arches and is adorned with intricate carvings. From this gate, a central pathway leads to the main palace. On either side of the pathway are gardens and in the middle of this pathway is a large rectangular water reservoir.

Unfortunately, the palace was closed for renovation and I hope they will do justice to the gardens which were full of weeds and other unwanted foliage.

The next destination was Aurangabad Caves, quite similar to the Ajanta and Ellora caves but much more recent excavation. We had to climb more than 82 stairs to reach the caves and it killed me, I was panting like never before. When I looked at Deepika and Sumita, realized they were in no better condition. The caves are divided in three separate sections, we managed to see only one section and had no energy to climb again, moreover, the architecture and ornamentation of the caves are quite similar to Ajanta and Ellora and we had seen them all.

The Aurangabad Caves, are twelve rock-cut Buddhist shrines located on a hill running roughly east to west, close to the city. The Aurangabad Caves were dug out of comparatively soft basalt rock during the 6th and 7th century. The caves are divided into three separate groups, the “Western Group”, with Caves 1 to 5, the “Eastern Group”, with Caves 6 to 9, and a “Northern Cluster”, with the unfinished Caves 9 to 12. The carvings at the Aurangabad Caves are notable for including Hinayana style stupa, Mahayana art work and Vajrayana goddess. These caves are among those in India that show 1st millennium CE Buddhist artwork with goddesses such as Durga, and gods such as Ganesha besides numerous Buddhist deities of the Tantra tradition are also carved in these caves.

With that we completed our touristy exploration, Sumita now wanted to see the local markets, so we proceeded to Gul Mandi Market/ Nirala Bazaar. They are very similar to the markets of Lajpat Nagar, Ajmal Khan markets of Delhi, only scaled down substantially. Deepika bought a suit piece for gifting. Sumita couldn’t find anything interesting and after searching the net, decided to check Paithani Silk Store situated at the Connaught Shopping Market. While they went in, I stayed back in the car, my phone battery had drained out to only 30% and needed immediate recharging… the car charger was old and wasn’t charging the phone, so I went to a nearby shop and bought one. By the time the girls came, my phone showed 82% charged, so one can imagine how quickly they did their shopping!!

As per our tradition, we have one meal in a star rated hotel to complete our travel, so we went to Taj Vivanta for lunch and relaxed there till evening. Later, the cab dropped us to the hotel as the driver had other assignments promising that another cab would come to drop us at the airport. I knew that the owner, Suresh himself would be coming to collect the money and drop us at the airport. I found Suresh to be friendly and amiable person. On request from Deepika and Sumita took us to a shop specializing in Paithani Silk sarees from where Sumita bought a saree.

We reached the airport early and had a long waiting time, so took out the pack of cards and played Rummy till our boarding was announced. Sumita stayed overnight with us and went home in the morning. On a scale of 1 to 10, I would place this escapade at least 8.9 because of certain hiccups we faced which I avoided mentioning. We also skipped two historical places, Daulatabad Fort, because of steep climbing/ trekking of almost 4 km and Tomb of Aurangazeb, for obvious reasons.

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The Haunted House

The house stood amidst a large unkept garden, it was big, probably has five or six bedrooms besides sitting and lounging areas. Lt. Colonel (Retd) Narayan Reddy stopped when he saw the FOR-RENT sign hung over the gate.  He tried to push open the gate but it was locked and made crackling noise. A middle-aged man came out from a house, opposite side of the road…

“Hello, can I help you?”

“Yes please, I am thinking of renting this house, where can I find the owner?”

“The owner doesn’t live here. I am the caretaker of that house. I am Vilas Deshmukh. And you?”

The man folded his hand in namaste and introduced himself.

“Narayan Rao, retired Army Officer.”

“I wouldn’t recommend you to rent this house, it has a very bad reputation. Who all is there in your family?”

“I and my handyman Sambhunath. Can I see the house from the inside and then decide?”

“Sure. I will get the keys.”

Vilas Deshmukh went back to his house to get the keys. Narayan Reddy walked around to take a better view of the house from the sides and he liked what he saw. It was a big double-story house with lawns all around the built-up area.

Vilas Deshmukh opened the lock of the gate and they entered. It, indeed is a big house spread over two floors, the ground floor has a big hall for sitting, a dining room, kitchen and pantry besides a storeroom at one corner just next to the staircase that’s going to the upper floors. The first floor comprises of four very spacious bedrooms around a central lounging area. Moreover, there was an open field at rear and a lake providing cool breeze throughout the day.

“I will take it, Mr. Deshmukh. I am giving you the cheque for two months right now.”

“There’s no hurry for that, Col. Reddy. I request you to reconsider your decision… of the last two occupants, none could stay beyond one night, the first one was found dead below the staircase and his servant in the rear lawns while the second one came out of the house screaming in dead of night. There are other houses I know that are up for renting, I can show you those.”

“I am not refuting your claim but I am taking this house, I will come in the evening with Sambhunath.”

In the evening Narayan Reddy along with his handyman Sambhunath came with their luggage and settled down in their new abode. Sambhunath liked the house, “Saheb, it’s too big for us?” he said innocently.

“Sambhu, we have seen hard days in our army days, now its time to enjoy life.” Narayan Reddy affectionately placed his hand on Sambhu’s head and ruffled his hair.

They ordered food from the nearby eatery and finished their dinner early. Narayan Reddy decided to take the first room near the staircase on the first floor and allotted the adjacent room to Sambhunath.

Narayan Reddy woke up in the middle of night as he thought he heard footsteps outside. No, he can hear the footsteps, very soft, climbing up the stairs, the sound stopped in front of his door. He has a gun but it is in the cupboard, taking it out might alarm the intruder. He picked up the 5-cell torch, it could be used as a weapon if need arises. The footsteps slowly started retreating and climbing down the stairs. Narayan Reddy, took out his revolver and opened the door, Sambhu too had heard the footsteps and came out of his room. Both went down to check from where the intruder had entered… all the doors and windows were locked and tightly shut, no one can come through them. It’s an old house, there might be some hidden ways at the back of the house, will check in the morning, Narayan Reddy thought aloud.

Nothing untoward happened rest of the night. In the morning, Narayan and Sambhu did a thorough search of the house but couldn’t find any secret outlet to enter or exit the house.

“I will go and get the grocery and vegetables from the market; we can’t survive on hotel food every day.” Narayan Reddy announced and left for the market.

As he was getting into the car, Mr. Deshmukh came out, “How was your first night in the new home?” he shouted from his balcony.

“All well. It is a big house, there were some unusual noises but nothing serious.”

Waving goodbye to Mr. Deshmukh, he drove away to the market.

When Narayan Reddy came back from the market after almost two hours he found Sambhu standing outside near the gate, visibly shaken, ashen faced.

“What happened? Why are you standing outside?”

“Come inside Saheb, I will tell you.” Sambhu’s voice wavered.

Sambhunath took out the grocery-vegetable bags from the car and went inside behind Narayan Reddy.

“Okay, tell me now”, once inside, Narayan Reddy commanded Sambhu.

“Saheb, I was cleaning and dusting the rooms and went to the storeroom to look for a broom, suddenly, I felt someone is standing behind me breathing heavily, it was ice cold. I turned around but there was nobody. Saheb, this house is spooky, makes me very nervous, let’s go back to our old house.”

“Sambhu, this is a big house and you were alone, you must be thinking about last night and then you may have felt the cool breeze floating in from the lake. Don’t worry, everything will be alright.”

Though Narayan Reddy assured Sambhunath, he, himself was a bit unsettled but being a Fauji, kept his cool and like a sniffer dog, searched the entire house for any clue. The house was as clean as the bright sunshine outside. The day passed peacefully.

Narayan Reddy decided to stay awake at night, had a frugal dinner in the evening followed it up with few cups of black coffee to help him stay awake. Sambhunath slept early in his room. Narayan Reddy made himself comfortable on the easy chair and waited… for something unusual to happen.

As the night grew, there was eerie silence except for the tick-tock sound coming from the wall clock.  Despite the cups of coffee, Narayan Reddy ultimately dozed off only to wake up with a start when the church bell struck at midnight. His senses stiffened immediately, he could feel the presence of another person in the darkened room, someone is right behind him… the icy breathing very close to his neck. The Fauji spirit in him made him jump out of the chair and face the intruder, a blank space behind the easy chair was all that he could see. He heard the quick pace of footsteps running down the stairs and then came the sound of something heavy falling down followed by a heart wrenching cry of a dying man and then there was complete silence. He has seen death and the agony from very close in army but even he was stunned by the event.

“Saheb, open the door.” Sambhunath banged on the door.

Narayan Reddy came out to find Sambhu shaking in fear. He pulled him inside his room and gave him water to drink. They spent the rest of the night, awake and tensed but it passed peacefully.

In the morning, Narayan Reddy found Vilas Deshmukh having tea on the balcony of his house.

“Oh, come Col. Reddy, have some tea. You are really tough military man who could live in that house for two nights.” Deshmukh said jovially.

“Thank you, Deshmukh ji. Please tell me what exactly happened in that house.” He asked seriously.

“Okay, I am going to tell you what I know. Long ago, maybe 10-12 years back, a Bengali businessman named Pralay Dey, a businessman from somewhere in Bengal built this house. He was a bachelor and lived with his nephew. Life was good for him… his business was booming. He even got his nephew married and the new bride took control of the household. They were a happy family. Then suddenly, one morning, Pralay was found dead, probably slipped and hit head on the floor.” Deshmukh stopped take a sip of his tea.

“As per the last will and testament of the deceased, the property and money were received by the nephew who within a months’ time winded up the business, sold the house and left the city without any forwarding address.” Deshmukh stopped, sadness enveloped his eyes.

“The house was bought by Ghanshyam Das, a businessman from Delhi. He wanted to setup a Confectionery and Sweet Shop for his son, Angshuman. They performed puja and threw a grand house warming party. Angshuman and his mother went back to Delhi leaving Ghanshyam Das to finish setting up of the shop with his trusted servant Baburam. Next day morning, Ghanshyam Das was found dead near the staircase while the body of Baburam was discovered in the back lawns.”

“Anshuman tried to sell the house but by then the news of multiple death in that house has spread like forest fire, no one was interested in buying the house even at a discount. Anshuman, asked me to be the caretaker and look for a suitable buyer or tenant; the house has remained vacant for over five years till you came in.”

Narayan Reddy took leave of Deshmukh without telling him about the incidents of last two nights. He called up his junior colleague in the army, Major Ashish Kumar…

“Hello Ashish, how are you?”

“I am fine Sir. Its good to hear from you, hope you are in good health.”

“Yes, I am fine. Actually, I called you about your brother, you had once mentioned that he’s a para-psychologist and is interested in paranormal activities, I want to consult him.”

“Well Sir, my brother, Nirmal, incidentally lives very close to you, only an hour away. I am sending you his number, you can call him up. I hope, it is nothing serious.”

“No, no, not at all. Just need to satisfy my curiosity.” Narayan assured his friend.

Narayan Reddy called up Nirmal Kumar to fix an appointment and left to meet him. He narrated the events of the previous two nights to Nirmal Kumar. He asked few questions then said, “Let’s go to your home and see it firsthand.”

Nirmal Kumar, with his vast experience in paranormal activities, could sense that everything was not right in the house. He felt an undercurrent of tension in the air. He checked every room, the balconies and the lawns; the storeroom intrigued him the most.

Nirmal Kumar took a deep breath and said, “Look, Narayan, something is not okay here. I will come back in the evening with my assistant, Mrityunjay who is an excellent medium, will do a planchet to call the disturbed spirit to pacify it, hope we will succeed.” Narayan Reddy had no faith in occult sciences but kept quiet.

As the day turned into evening, Sambhunath started getting agitated, Narayan Reddy could feel that Sambhu will not be able cope with another night of turmoil. He thought of sending him to Deshmukh household for the night. Just then Nirmal Kumar along with Mrityunjay came in and declared, “Nobody needs to go anywhere, the four of us will sit for the planchet and call the disturbed spirit.”

As directed by Nirmal Kumar, they set up a round table with four chairs in Narayan’s bedroom. Nirmal Kumar asked them to sit down holding each other’s hand, thinking about the spirit that visited them. All eyes were on Mrityunjay who is going to act as the medium. Ten or fifteen agonising minutes passed, nothing happened; then suddenly with a great force all the doors and windows opened and gush of cold air filled the room. Mrityunjay’s body shook up violently but Nirmal and Narayan on his either side holding his hand, kept him glued to the chair.

Nirmal asked, “Who are you? Why are you roaming in this house?”

There was no response, so Nirmal repeated his question, a bit more firmly. Mrityunjay slowly spoke up but it was all garbled.

“Speak clearly. We are here to help you. What is your name?” Nirmal almost shouted this time.

Mrityunjay’s lips moved, “I am Pralay Dey. I was murdered in this house. I have nowhere else to go.”

“Tell us in details.” Nirmal Kumar shouted again.

“I used live here happily with my nephew, Nimai. The business was good and Nimai was learning the tricks of the trade quite well. He was the only family I had. I got him married to a girl named Usha. I had bequeathed all my assets to Nimai. I don’t know why or who poisoned his mind, he became greedy and wanted all the wealth immediately. One night he dressed up in the devil’s attire to scare me. I panicked and ran down the stairs but he came after me and pushed me inside the storeroom, I fell down, my head hitting the iron grill of the utility shelf… I lost consciousness. Nimai and Usha locked me up, being a heart patient, I felt claustrophobic and died of suffocation during the night in the storeroom. And since then, I am living there.”

“Why did you kill two innocent people?”

“I did not kill anyone; they got scared by my presence. The servant went to the roof and jumped to his death while his boss slipped from the stairs and died.”

“So, what is the solution? Why don’t you go away?”

“I can’t leave this house, especially that storeroom. Let me live here in peace, you keep that room closed, all the time… I can’t stay with you anymore; it will soon be morning.”

A gush of wind swept the room, the door and windows shut violently, Mrityunjay collapsed on the chair. Nirmal sprinkled water on Mrityunjay’s face to wake him up. In the morning, Narayan Reddy called the mason to build a wall in place of the door of the storeroom sealing it permanently and giving the spirit of Pralay Dey his own space in the house that he had built to enjoy living but couldn’t in his lifetime.

Posted on by Aranyascope · 2 Comments

Adrishyam

I finished my work, essentially gathering market information about a bunch of products that were launched in the region. It entailed not just visiting the dealership but the local markets as well. The reports gathered so far has been very encouraging. The north Bihar markets have always favoured our products courtesy the sales team lead by the Regional Manager. I took the same taxi from Muzaffarpur to Patna that had brought me there from Raxaul. Though, the Regional Manager, Mr. Lal had invited me to have dinner with him, I had declined preferring to have it at the Hotel Pintu near the station. I have heard stories about this eatery from my mother; in the early 50’s my parents were living in Patna and many a evening, my father used pack food from this eatery for the family.

I forced the driver to come along with me to the restaurant for dinner, our last meal, a breakfast of Puri-Sabji and Chai at the Muzaffarpur dealer’s shop and now we were starving. The driver, Ranjit Kumar was vegetarian and I preferred vegetarian food while on tour, easy to digest. We had two kinds of sabji and dal tadka with tandoori rotis, a very satisfying meal, tasty as well. Ranjit dropped me near the platform, I paid him a healthy tip and told him to collect the fare from the office in the morning as Mr. Lal had instructed when the cab was booked for me.      

I headed for the first-class retiring room and found myself a nice sofa at the corner of the room. I settled down to read the book I was carrying, the train, Rajdhani Express to New Delhi wasn’t expected before midnight, enough time to finish the last 150 odd pages.

“Isn’t that Raman?”

I was startled by the booming voice and turned around to see Dipanjan Sir standing at the door of the retiring room with a small stroller, quite similar to mine. He was my boss in my previous organization, much older to me but a towering figure in the marketing field.

“Yes Sir. How are you? Frankly, I am surprised to see you here. Where have you been?” I replied.

Dipanjan Sinha came in and settled down on the single sofa chair and pulled out a cheroot from his jacket pocket, a luxury he indulged since the time I know him. He lit it up taking a long puff and blowing a series of smoky rings in the air.

“I came to attend the wedding of childhood friend’s son at the Govindpur village, 3,5-4 hours from Patna. It’s a small village nestled on the banks of Ganges.” He stopped to take another puff.

“How did the functions go? Did you enjoy the hospitality of your friend?” I poked him.

“Well, till yesterday morning, it was going fine, I was enjoying the pollution-free weather and fresh air of the village, the mobile network is practically non-existent, so no outside interference too but something happened last evening that changed everything.”

I smelled of a story more interesting than the fiction novel I was going to read… so poked him, “Please tell me your life altering story.”

“It’s not a story but fact” his voice boomed in the empty retiring room.

Dipanjan lit his cheroot again and took few quick puffs and began…

Shankar Singh Deo, my friend comes from an extremely wealthy zamindar family and was with me in St. Xavier school although. We became very good friends and were the opening batters of the school team. After school he went to Hindu College while I took English honours at St. Stephens and then did my masters at JNU. He became an IPS officer of Bihar Cadre. We kept touch with each other and met whenever possible. I was sceptical of visiting a village in Bihar but came because of his insistence.

Another few quick puffs…

The Govindpur Village is quite nice and even though small, on the banks of Ganges with large tracts of cultivated fields, very unlike the other villages of the state. Shankar’s palatial house situated right on the banks of the river is 3 stories high on a 10-acre plot with a swimming pool and a tennis court. A horse stable and a fleet of luxury cars, he’s ancestrally rich.  

I was given a warm welcome by Shankar’s family; he introduced me to his large extended family. He took me aside and said, “Sorry bro, as per customs, I can’t serve non-veg to you and as the state is under prohibition, can’t serve alcohol.” I winked at him and said, “I have enough stock of the latter, you can join me in my room.”

In the evening, the entire place, the lawns, the palatial house were lighted up beautifully. I could not help but notice that the top floor of the building was in complete darkness, maybe it was electrical malfunction, I thought. It was the Sangeet and Cocktail evening and I wondered what they are going to serve as cocktails!! My concern was soon answered when I was served a glass of coke with handsome pouring of Rum, my favorite drink. The evening was a grand success, the youngsters kept their dancing tempo with popular Bollywood songs. The vegetarian food was finger licking delicious and the spread was large. Something funny happened when I was having food, a young man came and discreetly put some fish fries on my plate before vanishing amongst the guests.

Maybe because of the exhaustion and/or the Rum intake, I had a sound dreamless sleep at night. The breakfast was laid at the lawns, the warm winter sun made the atmosphere very pleasant. I dug into the Dhuska with Aloo-Chana sabji following it with warm cup of black coffee. Sitting in the lawn, I noticed that the top floor of the building was not adorned with any lights at all, it was not electrical fault as I had thought. I was intrigued and sought an answer from Shankar’s nephew sitting on my table. He evaded any direct answer and suggested that I check with his uncle.

In the afternoon, after lunch, I finally caught hold of Shankar and asked him why the top floor of the building was not lighted. His face became grave, “Let’s not talk about it. We do not have any good memories about that floor. Nobody goes to that floor, it’s kind of abandoned. In fact, I am thinking of demolishing the structure there and keep it as open roof, may create a garden.”

But why? I insisted.

“Well, if you really want to know, my grandfather was murdered in his own bedroom on that floor by his cousin. My father was studying in college in Patna and only family member present was my grandmother and aunt. My grandfather’s cousin announced that he died of heart failure took over the reigns of the zamindari. But it was short-lived as within a months’ time he fell down from the roof and died. Some says that he committed suicide while others say that my grandfather’s spirit pushed him to his death. Whatever it is, my father decided to leave that floor as vacant, once a week in the daylight, the floor is cleaned up to maintain the sanctity.”

Can we have a look at the place? I insisted again.

Shankar called for the keys to the floor and we walked up the stairs to the third floor. The floor was only half constructed, the rest is open roof. The constructed area has a large hall for meeting visitors and holding parties, two large bedrooms with attached bathrooms with dresser and a pantry large enough to be classified as kitchen. I liked the place and the daredevil bug inside me woke up smelling adventure. I told him that I wanted to spend the night in that room before leaving the place. Shankar tried to dissuade me but I was adamant. I moved my belongings to the room that was once occupied by Shankar’s grandfather and where he was allegedly murdered.

After the wedding ceremonies were over and most guests have departed, I went to Shankar and his wife to congratulate them take their leave. “Please think it over, Dipanjan. Although, I do not believe in paranormal but that floor has been lying abandoned for decades, there could be snakes or some poisonous insects coming out at night. Moreover, there’s no electrical connection in that floor, you will have to rely on your torch and the lanterns. I have arranged for few lanterns to light up the floor as much possible but still there are pockets of darkness.” Shankar tried a last bit effort to stop me but I ignored and climbed up to the third floor. The place seemed different from the afternoon visit; the lanterns placed at different places created a light n shadow play. I was tired after the day’s activity, it was past midnight, I took my medicines and slept.

I woke up by the sound of someone walking with a stick in the hall. I checked my watch which said it was 4:30 am. Who could it be? I wondered. I got out of the bed lighting the torch given by Shankar and went to check the hall. An old man in dressing gown was walking up and down the hall with the help of a stick. He stopped looking at me and apologised, “Sorry, I woke you up.”

“No, it’s okay but who are you and what are you doing here? I was told that no one lives on this floor.” I replied with askance.

“Actually, I live here only but Shankar doesn’t know about my existence.” He replied mystically.

“Okay, why don’t you come in the bedroom and relax? The bed is big enough for both of us.”

The old man followed me to the bedroom at sat at one corner of the bed. “I can’t sleep at night, why don’t you go back to sleep?” he said not looking at me.

I don’t know why but I said, “I think you have a story to tell. I am all ears, tell me.”

The old man turned towards me, in the light of the lantern, I could see it was drained of colors, almost chalk white, the eyes have gone into cavity, overall, the man was skeleton thin. He looked straight into my eyes and said, “Will you believe what I tell you?”

Why not?

“I am the grandfather of Shankar. This floor was my living quarter as well as office where I used to meet people during the day for business and have parties with friends in the evening. I had created a flourishing zamindari besides businesses from timber trade to mining.” He stopped to take breath and then continued.

“One day, my cousin came to me asking for shelter. He had become bankrupt in speculative business and sought refuge with me. I could not refuse and took him in. I engaged him in the administration of the zamindari alongside the manager of the estate. I was happy that he enjoyed the work and there was no rivalry between him and the manager. Almost a year had past and everything seemed settled when suddenly I fell ill and was bedridden. The doctor, a close friend, one day when there was nobody in the room, told me that my cousin along with the manager was conspiring to kill me and take over the zamindari and the businesses. I was aghast and decided to confront my cousin immediately. I got the opportunity when he came to see me in the evening. I told him that I know about the conspiracy he has been hatching and he should leave the estate immediately or else I will throw him out in the morning. Moreover, if he showed up again, he will be killed and no one will get to see his body. My cousin first denied the conspiracy then got aggressive physically assaulting me. I was weak due to my illness; he strangled me with his bare hands. I died.” He stopped.

I was shocked by his incredulous story which was writ on my face. The old man smiled and said, “I see, you don’t believe me. Let me show you how he killed me.”

Saying so, the old man started strangling himself, his tongue came out, the eyes started bulging out from the socket. I felt dizzy and tried to stop him but couldn’t. I lost my senses and collapsed on the bed. I don’t know how long I was senseless but when I opened my eyes, I saw Shankar and others are looking at me with concern.

Dipanjan Sinha stopped and lit up his cheroot once more and just then the loudspeaker announced the imminent arrival of the Rajdhani Express. I picked up my bag and rushed towards the platform stopping at the door for Dipanjan to join me.

“Hurry up Sir” I said and turned to look at him. The empty room looked back at me.

Epilogue

I was sure that I had a dream sitting on the sofa at the first-class retiring room of Patna Junction Station. In the days to follow, I got extremely busy with financial and business year ending followed by the annual sales and marketing conference.

Then one day, I met my brother at the club and he asked, “Do you know Dipanjan Sinha, your ex-boss, is no more. He died of cardiac arrest in a remote village of Bihar.”

I was stunned, no words came out of me.