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Discovering the Gems of India-1

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

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

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

Day One: The Day of Travel

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

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

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

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

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

Day Two: Exploring the Bygone Era

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To be continued…

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The Avengers

CHAPTER TWO: Reassignment & Relocation

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aniket flew back to Kolkata next day in the afternoon.

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

“What do you mean by WE? Countered Rudro.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please take the call.” The HM smiled.

“Hi, what’s up? I am in a meeting.”

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

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

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

Rudra came out and called Aniket.

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

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

“How do you know?”

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

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

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

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

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The Wilkinson Lodge

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you know that?” I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Room Number Twelve

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

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

“Yes, hope it is running on time.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like what?” I was intrigued.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Rose Villa

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Nainpur Nightmare

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

“Looking for a job.” I replied meekly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Lepakshi Temple

“At least you can enjoy the cool weather of Bengaluru instead of roasting in Delhi.” Deepika insisted and so I tagged along with her to spend a few days with Ayush and Rajashree.

Deepika’s friend Moushumi suggested we go out for 3-4 days to Belur & Halebeedu, a Hoisala heritage site about 100 miles from Bengaluru. However, the idea could not fructify because of the not-so-good road condition and the unpredictable rains in Karnataka. In any case, I was contended to spend the days at home and cook up some savouries for the kids. Then Moushumi came up with another heritage place, Lepakshi Temple, a day trip from Bengaluru on NH44 (Bengaluru-Hyderabad Highway). We decided to go on Tuesday 3rd June but on Sunday morning my nose turned ticklish and by evening it became full blown cold with running nose and mild fever, thankfully, Deepika was carrying medicine for such eventualities. I must confess that on Sunday, even though all indications suggested that I take complete rest but rest of the gang wanted to go out for lunch on the only Sunday afternoon for a family outing. Sunday happened to be Bengali Jamai Shashti, a day when the son-in-law is pampered to the hilt with a royal feast and we decided to visit the famous restaurant of Kolkata Mitra Café, only to be turned away with a waiting time of over an hour.  Rajashree searched for alternative restaurants in the vicinity and came up with Bier Garten, a roof top restaurant…the weather was decent enough to enjoy a nice meal and a pint of draught beer. Now, you can imagine what aggravated my sinuses!!

By Tuesday, with strong doses of anti-allergy medicines, I felt better and we decided to take the trip to Lepakshi. I suggested we hire a driver to drive Moushumi’s Suzuki XL-6 automatic, not being sure that I will be fit enough to drive. The ETD was 6:30 am to avoid the city traffic on a working day, accordingly Deepika & I reached Moushumi’s home at ACME, Bellandur only to find her sitting in her car, waiting for the driver to come. We waited for 30 more minutes with Moushumi trying to reach the driver or the agency that provides the services but no one responded. It was getting late, so I sat at the wheel and checked the vehicle’s functions. I felt confident to drive the car and we took off around 7:30 am.

It took us one hour to traverse through the city to reach the highway to Hyderabad. I had experience of driving on this stretch having made multiple visits to Bengaluru while stationed at Hyderabad. In those days, there weren’t many good decent places to stop for a bite. I asked Deepika and Moushumi to look for a breakfast place and they came up with A2B (Adyar Ananda Bhavan), a restaurant serving South Indian cuisine but soon realised that we had crossed it by many miles. Then we came across a signage promoting a restaurant called Koteshwaram, about a kilometre away from our location.

Koteshwaram turned out to a nice restaurant with option of fine dining as well as option for a quick bite on the go from the counter. It was a new place started operation four months ago. The food was Karnataka-Andhra influenced… thick dosa and mildly sweet sambhar but otherwise very tasty. On the table was a “tent-card” showcasing their desserts and one item instantly touched a chord in my heart. It was “Jelly Ice-cream”, reminded me of the times I used tag along with my brothers to the football match and afterwards would walk 5 km to Connaught Place from Ambedkar Stadium, Delhi Gate for the promised hamburger and cream jelly at the Indian Coffee House.

After our leisurely breakfast stretching over an hour, we started for our destination. The Google Map showed our destination, Lepakshi Temple, only 1:15 hour away, I drove sedately at 80 kmph (within speed limit) and reached our destination around 11 am, from the outside, it looked a small edifice, making us wonder if we reached the correct location!!

It is actually Veerbhadra Temple at Lepakshi. Veerabhadra Temple is a Hindu temple located in the Lepakshi, in the state of Andhra Pradesh, India. The temple is dedicated to the Virabhadra, a fierce form of the god Shiva.

Built in the 16th century, the architectural features of the temple are in the Vijayanagara style with profusion of carvings and paintings at almost every exposed surface of the temple. It is one of the centrally protected monuments of national importance and is considered one of the most spectacular Vijayanagara temples. The fresco paintings are particularly detailed in very bright dresses and colours with scenes of Rama and Krishna from the epic stories of the Ramayana, the Mahabharata and the Puranas and they are well preserved.

There is a very large Nandi (bull), mount of Shiva, about 200 metres (660 ft) away from the temple which is carved from a single block of stone, which is said to be one of the largest of its type in the world. The temple has been built on the southern side of Lepakshi town, on a low altitude hillock of a large exposure of granite rock, which is in the shape of a tortoise, and hence known as Kurma Saila. It is 140 kilometres away from Bengaluru. The approach from the National Highway NH44/ NH44 to Hyderabad that takes a branch road at the Karnataka-Andhra Pradesh border leading to Lepakshi, 12 kilometres away.

The temple was built in 1530 AD by Virupanna Nayaka and Viranna, both brothers who were Governors under the Vijayanagar Empire during the reign of King Achyuta Deva Raya, at Penukonda who were native to Karnataka. They belonged to the warrior merchant class of Veerashaiva Vani. The temple consists of only Kannada inscriptions. According to Skanda Purana, the temple is one of the Divyakshetras, an important pilgrimage site of Lord Shiva.

The main temple is laid out in three parts, these are: The assembly hall known as the Mukha mantapa or Natya mantapa or Ranga mantapa; arda mantapa or antarala (ante chamber); and the garbhagriha or the sanctum sanctorum. The temple, as an edifice, is encircled by two enclosures. The outermost walled enclosure has three gates; the northern gate is used regularly. The inner east gate is the entry to the assembly hall, which is a large sized open hall designed with a large space in its central part.

It is at the entrance to the sanctum sanctorum and has a profusion of sculptures and paintings over every inch of space on the columns and ceiling. The images on the pillars and walls are of divine beings, saints, guardians, musicians, dancers and 14 avatars of Shiva. Figurines of the goddesses Ganga and Yamuna flank the entrance to the sanctum. The exterior columns of this hall are built over a decorated plinth; the decorations are in the form of blocks of carved images of horses and soldiers. The columns are slim and have features of colonnettes carved with eaves, overhanging in a curved shape. The open space in the middle part of the hall is defined by large columns or piers which have carvings of triple figures.

In the columns in the northeastern part of the hall, there are images of Natesha flanked by Brahma and a drummer. In an adjoining column there are figurines of nymphs in dancing postures, flanked by a drummer and cymbalist. The column at the southwest part of the hall has an image of Parvathi, Shiva’s consort, flanked by female attendants. There are also carvings of divinities such as Bhringi with three legs and Bhikshatana carved in a dancing posture; this is in the northwestern part of the hall. The ceiling of the hall is fully covered with mural paintings depicting the scenes from the epics, the Mahabharata, the Ramayana, and the Puranas along with the life sketches of the benefactors of the temple.

The paintings in each bay on the ceiling of the main mandapa, the antarala and other shrines, depict the grandeur of Vijayanagara pictorial art. They are painted over an initial plaster layer of lime mortar. The colour scheme consists of vegetable and mineral colours of yellow, ochre, black, blue and green blended with lime water; the background is generally painted in red colour. Apart from figures of gods and goddesses, in the presence of the devotees arranged in rows, the frescoes also depict the incarnations of Vishnu. The paintings are in striking compositions where the particular emphasis is on the period costumes and facial expressions. The fresco in the ceiling of ardha mantapa (ante chamber), which is said to be Asia’s largest, measures 23 by 13 feet (7.0 m × 4.0 m). It has frescoes of the 14 avatars of Lord Shiva as: Yogadakshinamurti, Chandes Anugraha Murthy, Bhikshatana, Harihara, Ardhanarishwara, Kalyanasundara, Tripurantaka, Nataraja, Gouriprasadaka, Lingodbhava, Andhakasurasmahara…

The presiding deity deified in the sanctum sanctorum is a near life-size image of Veerabhadra, fully armed and decorated with skulls. There is a cave chamber in the sanctum where sage Agasthya is said to have lived when he installed the image of the Linga here. The ceiling in the sanctum above the deity has paintings of the builders of the temple, Virupanna and Viranna, regally dressed and crowned with headgear similar to those adorning the Krishnadevaraya’s bronze statue in Tirupati. They are depicted, with their entourage, in a state of reverential prayer, being offered sacred ashes of their family deity.

Within the temple complex, on the eastern wing, there is a separate chamber with Shiva and his consort Parvathi carved on a boulder. In another shrine chamber there is an image of Lord Vishnu. Within the temple precincts, to its eastern side, there is huge boulder of granite stone which has carving of coiled multi-hooded serpent providing an umbrella cover over a Shiva Linga.

The apparently “hanging pillar” is yet another attraction in the temple. There is a gap between the base of the pillar and ground through which cloth and paper can be passed, as the pillar is slightly dislodged and touching the ground only on one side. A huge granite Nandi (bull), 20 feet (6.1 m) in height and 30 feet (9.1 m) in length, bedecked with garlands and bells, carved out of a single block stone, is located about 200 metres (660 ft) from the temple, which faces the statue of the serpent in the precincts of the temple.

We were awestruck by the temple’s architecture, stone carving and the fresco art. Deepika offered puja at the Veerbhadra temple for the peace and prosperity of the family. The priest offered us a small banana (Yellaki or Ilaichi Banana) as prasad. Coming out from the main temple, we made a parikrama of the temple complex, the expansive structure and use of the flat hilltop was simply amazing.

I was wearing my footwear sitting on the stairs to the temple when I noticed a few monkeys in the vicinity, two of them were scanning the area for food and one was peacefully sleeping. A group of devotees were passing through the gate which woke up the monkey and it looked at the source of the disturbance with irritation. In a swift movement, it swooped down on one of the devotees and snatched a banana that the man was holding in his hand, quickly peeling off the skin and devouring it. Deepika, unaware of the incidence walked straight towards Moushumi, sitting under the tree, a few feet away from the monkey, asking her to take a picture when the monkey rushed to her and in a swift movement took out the banana (prasad) that was barely visible from her purse. She panicked and started screaming but the monkey was neither interested in her nor in the purse. I told her to calm down and back off from the monkey. The scene was repeated once more on another hapless devotee.

We left for Bengaluru soon thereafter, hoping to evade the notorious evening traffic. The drive was uneventful except witnessing a crash on the other side of the road, a Toyota Hyrider had hit a tractor trolley with its engine completely gutted and a BMW tried best to avoid them but failed hitting the Toyota from behind. There was a huge man-made congestion of onlookers. It costed us precious 20 minutes before we could cruise again.

Reaching Bengaluru, we decided to stop for lunch at the Manyata Tech Park famous for a food court having the best of the restaurants. The food at the Nasi & Mee was excellent and every morsel was devoured by us. Under the specials, they had a sushi dessert called Mango Sticky Rice served with a coconut milk dip, mildly sweet with the natural sweetness of the mango. Even though, it was unique and flavourful, I felt, it lacked the sweetness one expects in a dessert, they could have added a bit of sweetener in the sticky rice before rolling it. Overall, we were very satisfied with both the quality and quantity of the servings, Thai Green Curry with Jasmine Rice, Veg Hakka Noodles and Prawn Curry for the main course as well as the dumplings for starters.

Moushumi, insisted that we stopover at her home for a cup of tea and rest a while before going home. I checked with Ayush if he can pick us up from there on his way back from office, detouring 20 minutes from his usual route and he confirmed affirmative. I handed over the wheels to Moushumi for the last leg of the journey to her home, as she knows the route while I would have needed constant guidance negotiating the heavy traffic. Later, Ayush picked us up but I realized the detour was a torture for his tired soul after a grinding day in the office.

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The Night Mechanic

The car stopped in the middle of the Leopard Trail Road. Alok Sengupta, retired civil engineer tried to restart the engine a few times, the car made scaarrr… scaarrr noise but did not start. Beside him sat his 12 years old grandson who is visiting his grandparents, a week ahead of his parents coming from Seattle, USA. Alok picked him up from the Delhi airport and was on their way home to Sohna where Alok had moved after retirement, building a decent house with lots of greenery around. He came out of the car and opened the hood of the car but in the pitch dark he couldn’t see anything. He was cursing himself for not retaining the driver for this trip even though Sutapa, his wife insisted but he dismissed the idea. He lighted a cigarette and contemplated calling his friend Aro who lived in Gurgaon. Just then a voice from the woods called out, “Sir, I can repair your car if you permit.” Alok was startled and looked enquiring at the source of the voice, about 15-20 metres from him, a man was standing under a tree, only his silhouette could be seen not the face.

“Who are you?”

“I am a mechanic by profession Sir.”

“How come you are here at this late hour?”

“Sir, we keep an eye on this and other highways, just in case someone needs us.”

“Okay, see if you can bring the car to life.”

The man came out from the shadow of the trees and approached the car. Alok switched on the torch on his mobile to help the mechanic.

“Switch off the light Sir, I don’t need any light.”

“How will you work in this darkness?”

“No worries, Sir, we are used to the darkness.”

 The mechanic swiftly went under the car and started twinkling with the auto parts. Alok waited patiently puffing away cigarettes one after the other. As a civil engineer working with the PWD, he had made this road cutting through the jungle and hills. He had insisted on having at least two gas stations on this 26 km stretch of the winding road but his idea was turned down for reasons not privy to him.

“How much longer?” Alok asked.

“Just another few minutes… almost done, Sir.”

After another ten odd minutes, the mechanic called out from under the car, “Please take your seat in the car and start the engine.”

Alok, with a bit of uncertainty, sat on the car, his grandson fallen asleep. He pushed the start button and magically the car engine revved up.

“It’s done Sir, go ahead and drive safely.”

Alok was hesitant to move thinking the man was still under the car, he shouted out, “You come out from under the car.”

“I am already out Sir.” The voice came from a distance in the woods.

In the dim light of the stars he could see the man standing under a tree in the distance. He switched on the headlight of the car to see him clearly but the man had gone behind the tree.

“Sir, go ahead straight and you will reach at the bridge which will take you to the main highway. I am glad that I could be of help to you.”

Alok followed the advice, although he was well versed with the road having built it few years ago. Soon he reached the bridge which led him to a tea stall just before hitting the highway. He stopped, the skies are lighting up slowly, it will soon be morning. He needed a warm cup of tea. He woke up his grandson to check if he would like some warm milk but he refused and went back to sleep.

He asked for a Masala Chai and lit up a cigarette, if Sutapa was around, she, surely would have admonished him. The took a sip of the warm chai and let the liquid flow down his throat warming his whole body. Just then a man wrapped in a shawl approached him and gave him two pieces of paper. Before, Alok could react, the man walked away and vanished.

Alok finished his Chai, paid up and sat in the car. Before starting the engine, he decided to check the papers. The first sheet was a death certificate and the second sheet was a letter to the authority signed by him only. It was an application for compensation to the family of a victim who died when a part of the under-construction bridge collapsed during a spell of torrential rain. The victim was Sanjay Singh, a mechanic by profession. He was riding on the service road when a concrete slab from the bridge fell on him. He died on the spot. Alok had fought with his superiors and taken the matter to the office of the then Chief Minister to ensure the family of deceased Sanjay Singh is suitably compensated.

Alok, looked at the sky which was turning red with the first lights of the sun and thanked the mechanic Sanjay Singh for helping him in a dire situation. The night mechanic paid his gratitude.  

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The Spirited Seltos

Nikhil Wagle, a software engineer with a multinational company was posted to Ranchi to set up the systems at their new office. Alone, in the city, he tried to explore the nearby places but the tantrums of the autorickshaw drivers was a big put off for him. Last weekend, when he went to Patratu Valley, the autorickshaw driver, literally ripped him by charging 3000 rupees for the trip. He thought of buying a second-hand car for himself and asked Sunil, the driver of his boss to keep an eye for a good, trouble-free car at a reasonable price.

It was a Saturday, Nikhil, made a sandwich and coffee for breakfast… seated on the balcony of his 8th floor apartment enjoying the pre-monsoon shower when Sunil called up…

“Sir, I have found a car, in fact an SUV for you, it is about two years old, in good condition. The owner is ready to sell at a very reasonable, dirt-cheap price. But I must tell you, I heard some funny things about the vehicle.”

“You are confusing me, Sunil, you said it’s a good car at a reasonable price and also something funny about the car. What so funny? And what kind of car or SUV is it?”

“Sir, it’s a Kia Seltos, two years old, almost showroom condition but it’s the second owner who wants to sell. The rumour is that the vehicle gets possessed by spirits after sunset.”

“How is that possible? The rumour must have been spread by some jealous neighbours to deter buyers. When can I see the car?”

“if you are free, we can visit the seller in the evening, say around 5 o’clock, I will pick you up.”

“Okay, I will wait for you.”

In the evening, Sunil, as promised came in his Bullet 350 bike to pick-up Nikhil at his Chanakyapuri residence. He offered a spare helmet to Nikhil and said, “We have to go to Abhishek Singh’s home in Kanke, about 20 km from here. He is into timber trading and also has a resort in Dalton Ganj.”

It took some time to locate the house of Abhishek Singh, situated near the Greenview Enclave, it was a sprawling house, built on a 1000-yard plot, clearly showcasing the wealth of the owner. The maroon-coloured Kia Seltos was parked right in front of the house, it looked brand new, without any scratch or dent, a rarity for the city, especially after two years. Sunil rang the bell and they waited.

A man, slightly older than Nikhil came out to greet them…

“Namaskar, I am Abhijit, you must have come to see my father. Have you come to buy this car?” the young man pointed to the Seltos and asked.

“Yes, can we check the car, I mean the interior and the engine?”

“Why not? I will fetch the keys for you. But do it before the sun sets.”

Abhijit went inside to get the keys and with him came his father, Avinash Singh.

“Are you sure, you want to buy this car even after hearing the strange stories about it. And I must confess, the car does act funny, and at times even scarily.”

“I don’t believe in ghosts or spirits, there must be some technical issue with the engine which can be rectified. Now, tell me how much are you expecting, you know, I am a salaried employee with limited resources.”

Abhishek’s phone buzzed and he answered, after a few yes and no, he turned towards Nikhil and Sunil and spoke, “That was my mother, she admonished me for not inviting you guys inside. Please come inside to have some refreshment and discuss further.”

The deal was finalised over a sumptuous spread of snacks prepared by Jolly Devi, wife of Avinash Singh. Nikhil thought five lakh rupees for the almost new Kia Seltos is a steal and offered to pay five thousand as advance but Avinash refused saying, “Some other people have done that earlier, but never came back to complete the deal. I don’t want to collect money like that, if you are serious, please come back tomorrow with the full amount and take the car. I have all the papers ready, just have to put your name at the appropriate places.”

“Some friends are waiting for me, please excuse me, I have to go now.” Abhishek apologised and took leave. Shortly, there was a sound of engine starting followed by revving up of the accelerator and a car zooming off at a high speed.

“These youngsters are too adventurous; I have told Abhishek so many times to not drive rashly but he doesn’t listen to me.” Avinash spoke resignedly.

Nikhil’s mobile buzzed and he answered, the conversation was short, he answered in monosyllables and ended the call. He turned to Avinash and said, “That was from my boss in Bengaluru, I have been called to there on urgent meeting. I have to take the earliest flight tomorrow. Can you wait till I come back from Bengaluru?”

“Look, as I told you, some people came to check on it and left saying they would come back, but never showed up ever again. So, I can’t promise you anything. If tomorrow someone shows up with the money, I will surely sell it to them.”

Nikhil checked his purse again and said, “I have about five thousand rupees with me right now which I can give you as advance.”

“No, I don’t want any advance but the full value.”

“In that case, I will write a cheque in your favour and give it to Sunil. He will come back tomorrow, you can handover the vehicle to him. We will complete the paperwork once I am back.”

Avinash agreed to the proposal and they took leave from him. When they came out, the Kia Seltos was nowhere to be seen, they thought Abhishek might have taken it out one last time before his father disposes the vehicle. Coming back to his apartment, Nikhil handed over the cheque to Sunil with express instruction to bring the car and park at his assigned parking slot.

Nikhil’s engagement in Bengaluru got extended to five days in which time he received a single message from Sunil that he has taken the delivery of the vehicle from Avinash. He had tried to call Sunil but there was no response from the other side. Nikhil was irritated for this unresponsive nature of Sunil.  

On Friday evening, Nikhil arrived back in Ranchi and was excited to take the Seltos out for a spin, before going to his apartment, he went to the parking to check and was shocked to find the empty space. He became furious and immediately called Sunil…the phone kept ringing but no one answered. He then called up his boss to check if he has sent out Sunil somewhere…

“Hello, Ranjan Sir, just wanted to check if you have sent Sunil out of town, had some work with him.”

“Hi Nikhil, welcome back. No, I haven’t sent him anywhere. In fact, since Monday evening when he dropped me home, he hasn’t showed up for work. He’s not answering his phone too… I am thinking of sacking him if he shows up now.”

Nikhil then called up Avinash who confirmed that Sunil had given him the cheque and taken the delivery of the vehicle on Monday evening. The conversations made Nikhil worried, he decided to get the address of Sunil and check him out, maybe he’s not well, he thought.

In the morning, Avinash called Nikhil, “Nikhil, please come over to my place to complete the paperwork. The vehicle is still in my name and if anything, untoward happens, it will badly impact me.”

“Avinash Ji, I am trying to locate Sunil and the vehicle and I will come as soon as possible.”

It took some effort to cajole his colleague in HR to reach office on a off-day to dig out the address of Sunil and by the time Nikhil reached the residence of Sunil in Tikratoli it was late afternoon. His father informed that Sunil had left on Monday evening saying that he has to attend some business in Kanke but hasn’t returned. They were not worried because he had done such irresponsible act previously too. But since Nikhil presented himself and narrated the business that Sunil had in Kanke, they became worried and decided to lodge a missing person at the police station.

Nikhil left them to do what they wanted to do and went over to Kanke to meet Avinash.

“I am telling you, something must have happened to Sunil. By the time he took the vehicle it was getting dark. I told him to take it in the morning or afternoon during day time but he was adamant that you wanted the vehicle at your home when come back.”

“But where he would have taken it?”

“Who knows? He might have sold it to some uncouth dealers at a higher price…”

Nikhil, finished the paperwork and gave a undertaking to Avinash that henceforth he was responsible for the vehicle. Avinash advised him to lodge a police complaint as well for the missing Seltos.

It was late when he came out, Abhishek met him at the gate and suggested, “You won’t get any transport from here at this hour, let me drop you at the highway, you will be able to flag down any autorickshaw going towards the city.”

Nikhil was getting restless, it was almost half hour and not a single autorickshaw had shown up on the road, it was getting dark on this new moon night. He began cursing Sunil and finally himself for wanting to buy the maroon Seltos.

Suddenly, out of the blue, a car came with great speed and applied hard brake to stop in front of Nikhil. It was Seltos but in the darkness, the maroon colour looked black. Sunil was at wheel and someone with a hoodie was sitting on the passenger side.

“Get in Sir, quickly. It’s really very nice car, very peppy with lots of zing. I will drop you to your home.”

In a hypnotic spell, Nikhil got into the rear seat. Once the vehicle started moving, he asked irritatingly, “Where did you take my car? I told you to park it at my residence. Why didn’t you do that?”

“Have patience Sir, it’s a long story, I will tell you once we stop.”

Sunil, without any further talk, pressed on the accelerator and the speedometer kept climbing… crossing the speed limit of 120 kmph, the in-built sensor started screaming. Nikhil shouted at the top of his voice, “Slow down Sunil, you will kill all of us. This is my car and I command you to stop immediately. Stop…stop…”

“Who says this is your car? This is my car and Sunil won’t stop.” The man with a hoodie turned towards Nikhil and spoke in a hushed tone.

Nikhil froze in the rear seat of the Seltos, under the hoodie, a skeleton was talking to him. Nikhil stammered as he meekly spoke to Sunil, “W…who is this man? W…where did you p..pick him up?”

“Sir, he is the owner of this car, Dr. Chowdhury.”

Nikhil was scared sweating profusely; he kept pleading with Sunil to stop the vehicle but Sunil kept increasing the speed further to 150 kmph. Nikhil watched in horror, a dump of sand or mud covering half the road ahead and from behind it a cyclist appeared suddenly. Sunil had to apply the brake and taking the advantage of the slow speed, Nikhil opened the door and rolled on to the sand dump. He rolled on for few laps before hitting the hard surface of the road and passed out.

When Nikhil opened his eyes, he was in a hospital bed surrounded by his office colleague besides the doctor and nurse. He tried to speak but nothing comprehensive came out.

“Relax, Nikhil, we are happy that you are alive, it will take couple of days rest to completely heal. It is heartening to know that there are good Samaritans exists amongst us, a doctor of this hospital returning from Bokaro, found you on the Taimara Ghati (NH33) and brought you here. You were in coma for three days.” Dr. Judhajit announced.

A week later, Nikhil, still in bandages, was sitting with few of his colleague and his brother who had come from Jamshedpur when Avinash joined them with his son, Abhishek.

“Nikhil, you had a lucky escape that day but your friend Sunil wasn’t so lucky. We came to know from police that a badly mutilated body was recovered on the day after Sunil took away the Seltos from us, from very close to the spot where you were found. The police also found the mangled remains of the maroon-coloured Kia Seltos in a ditch some 20-25 meters from there.”

“Who is Dr. Chowdhury?” Nikhil asked.

“Dr. Chowdhury was the first owner of that vehicle. About six months ago, while returning from Bokaro, on the same highway, he had a cardiac arrest, the driver took him to the nearest hospital but he was already dead. His daughter sold the car to me but it seems the spirit of Dr. Chowdhury did not leave the Kia Seltos.”

Abhishek took out an envelope from his bag and gave it to his father. “Nikhil, please accept this cheque of five lakh rupees that you gave me for the car. Since, the car registration wasn’t transferred to you, technically, it is still my car and I have received the police report and filed it with the insurance company for total loss. I am relieved, now that the vehicle is destroyed, no one else will ever get hurt.”

Nikhil took the cheque and said, “I will give this to Sunil’s father, he died for no fault of his.”  

Posted on by Aranyascope · 1 Comment

The Desert Storm

Agniv Singh, a Research Fellow with Geological Survey of India has been tasked with the research on the water bodies of the deserts spanning the western part of Rajasthan. He and his team had set up a camp office in Barmer from where they have made trips to Jaisalmer and around in search of oases, playas and wadis. The idea was to look for the source of water filling these up. The last two are dependent on the rainfall and therefore not important for his research but the first one holds the secret of underlying water sources that can eventually help the region.

Yesterday evening, talking to the local elders, Agniv came to know of a lake in the middle of the expansive desert, some 10 km towards the south-west of his camp. This morning, he shared the information with his local guide Irfan Khan who had immediately gone to get a camel for the trip down to the lake. In the desert, camel is the best mode of transport because even the best of the 4W SUV’s can get stalled due to sand getting into the engine or fuel points. Moreover, the camels have a natural instinct to figure out the best and shortest route avoiding the sinkholes.

After the fee negotiations, the camel owner tried to get the camel to rise and get going but the camel refused to get up. Irfan was watching the manoeuvre and getting impatient, finally he said, “What kind of camel rider are you? It’s almost an hour; you have failed to get the animal get up even. We have to come back by evening. Let me give the animal my dose of medicine.” Irfan went close to the camel and started tickling the animal at the joint of the front legs and after a while, grunting angrily the camel got up with a jerk and started running without waiting for Irfan to get onto it.

“Stop the camel, we have to pick-up Irfan” Agniv called up the camel rider, Mudassar Ali.

“No Sir” Mudassar Ali replied seriously. “The camel won’t allow him to ride on her. She’s angry with him for tickling her.”

“Tickling makes people laugh, why will she get angry?’

“Sir, they are animals, they get offended by tickling.”

“But, without Irfan, my guide, I will be lost. I need him.”

“Don’t worry Sir, I will take you to the lake and bring you back as well. My camel knows the route; she will take us there safely.”

There are no set path in the desert, the camel was on a rhythmic walk, at times veering steeply from the straight line. Mudassar Ali informed that such detour is to avoid the sinkholes which in human eyes are completely invisible but the animals can figure out instinctively.

“The camel is moving on its own, you are not guiding it… does it know where we are heading or it will take us somewhere else?”

“I told her where she has to take us and she was reluctant to go, that area is not a safe place with many sinkholes on the path. If I guide the camel, we may fall into one such sinkhole but my camel will bypass all such pits with complete ease.”

Agniv started to say something but Mudassar stopped him with a gesture and then whispered, “Sir, don’t talk, the camel is getting irritated by the noise. Let her concentrate on the path.”

Agniv wondered what’s the role of Mudassar… he doesn’t know the route to the lake, has no inkling about the many sinkholes scattered across the desert…totally dependent on his camel. He must keep it happy, always otherwise it may simply stop in the middle of the desert!! Agniv took out his compass that he always carried with him and checked the coordinates. He sighed a relief as the compass indicated that they were on the right path.

“You must keep her happy or else she may decide enough is enough and stop in the middle of nowhere in this vast desert.”

“I try to keep her happy but see, today she was reluctant to come but was forced for this trip. Pray to the god that everything goes fine on this journey. And Sir, please don’t speak up, the camel is getting distracted and not liking it at all.”

Agniv kept silent and let the camel travel at its own pace avoiding the obstructions. The heat, both from above as well as below became unbearable as the sun ascended to the middle of the sky right above their head. But the camel is used to such weather and continued in the same unhurried pace towards her destination. After about an hour, Mudassar announced that they are about to reach their destination, the lake or the oases in the desert.

“How do you know? I can only see miles and miles of sand only.”

“Close to the lake is the village where my aunt lives, I have been here many times, so I know this place.”

As soon as they crossed a wadi, a beautiful scene came in their view. It was as if an artist had drawn a canvas with riot of greens and blue in the middle of the beige sand. A beautiful expansive lake surrounded by green palm trees and shrubberies stood ahead. Mudassar instructed the camel to stop and the animal sat down to unload her passenger. Agniv got down and stretched his body after the arduous journey from Barmer.

“I will check this lake for the water source now, it may take few hours, you can take rest and let your camel eat and drink.”

“No worries, Sir, I will go to my aunt’s home and will be back soon enough for the ride back.”

Mudassar made ‘tut-tut’ sound to which the camel got up and started walking and soon it vanished behind the dune. Agniv walked towards the lake to check the water current that may throw light on the water source. He realized, there must be some underground source to sustain such a large water body, it possibly cannot remain full on rainwater alone when there is sparse rain even during the monsoon months. The water was clear blue, taking in the reflection of pollution free blue sky. He could see layers of hard rock deep below. His thoughts were, somewhere from those crevices, water must be flowing in & out continuously to make this lake live. A thought occurred to him that the ancient Saraswati River may be still alive under the desert, nourishing this lake. He walked along the bank shooting video and taking photograph for later analysis.

He decided to search for more lakes like this and if a triangulation can be established, go for deep drilling to look for the underground water source. He was in deep thoughts and was startled when a hand pressed his shoulder, he turned back to find a tall old man in local Rajasthani outfit with long stick looking at him intently with a quizzical look.

“Sir, don’t stand here, come with me.”

“Why? Who are you?”

The man without replying, took Agniv’s hand and pulled him inside a stone house or rather a room that Agniv had not seen earlier being engrossed in the feature of the lake.

“Why did you bring me here? Who the hell are you?” Agniv was visibly angree.

“It is not important, who I am. I have just saved your life. A storm is coming this way and you being a city dweller would have perished in its wake.”

“A storm? Where…” Before Agniv could finish his sentence, a sudden sand storm engulfed the region making the surroundings dark, the sun became hazy with winds lashing the walls of the stone room with great fury. Agniv was speechless.

“Now you realise what would have happened to you if you were standing by the lake.”

“But what about Mudassar and his camel? Hope they are fine.”

“Don’t worry about them, he is a local and the camels are used to such storm, they will be fine.”

Soon, the storm subsided, Agniv and the old man came out of the stone room. There was a layer of sand still engulfing the atmosphere like a sheet of silk, everything was hazy. Agniv started walking along the bank of the lake examining the rock formation below the water and the embankment hoping to find the crevice that will solve the puzzle of the water source.

“What are you looking for?” The old man who had silently followed him asked.

“I am looking for a crack or crevice in these rocks from where the water is flowing into this lake.”

“The water is coming from beneath. It can’t be seen but there it exists, I can feel it”

“How come?”

“On a silent night you can hear the sound of the water gushing in the lake from below the surface. I hear them all the time.”

“I don’t hear any such sound.”

“You have to be patient and concentrate to hear the sound.”

Agniv found out more about the old man… he’s Usman Ali, he has been here as long as he can remember. He doesn’t have any family and spends his days in taking care of a Mazaar of a Pir Baba and a Shiv Mandir next to each other.

“You take care of the masjid and the mandir, both?” Agniv was surprised.

“I have no problem taking care of both the masjid and the mandir… for me both are same. We call them in different names for our own selfish motives.”

“You do the full rituals at the Shiv mandir every day?”

“What do I know about the rituals, Sir? I pray to Mahadev as I pray to Allah, every moment.”

Agniv and Usman Ali came back inside the stone room. Usman made millet chapati and served Agniv with Aloo Sabji. It was delicious, more so because Agniv was famished by the events since morning. After the late lunch, they conversed about various things. Usman Ali told him about three more lakes or oases within 50 miles from there. Agniv decided to verify the locations once he gets back to the camp. He became desperate once the sun started descending on the western horizon because there was no sign of Mudassar and his camel.

“What’s the matter? Mudassar probably has gone back without you.” Usman teased Agniv.

“No, that’s not possible. He has brought me here and surely will take me back. Moreover, I haven’t paid him yet.”

“Maybe he has gone, you can’t be sure how the camel reacts…you said the animal was reluctant to come here in the morning. It is possible that the animal is not willing to come out from the comfort of Mudassar’s aunt’s home.”

“You could be right. But what do I do now? How will I get back to the camp?”

“You will go on a different camel. My camel will be back tomorrow morning with the provisions from the city. I will drop you to the camp then. Tonight you stay with me…it is not as comfortable as your camp but under the circumstances you don’t have any other option.”

A mysterious light emanated in the atmosphere, probably the combination of the dew from the lake and the sand of the desert dancing together as the sun went down for the day.

“Usman bhai, come have look at the mysterious lights from the lake.” Agniv called out to the old man.

“Don’t look at that light for long, it’s the ghostly light. Please come inside.” Usman replied seriously.

Usman lighted the stove to make millet chapatis for both of them along with the leftover aloo-sabji from the afternoon. After the frugal dinner, Usman laid out the straw mattress for Agniv to sleep as well as for himself. Though, Agniv was sceptical about sleeping on the straw mattress, because of the exhaustion and stress about his return journey, he was soon fast asleep.

Agniv woke up by the call of Mudassar from outside, “Sir…sir… come out quickly, I have come to take you back.”

Agniv looked at his watch… 3 am… Usman was fast asleep, didn’t even stir by the calling of Mudassar. Agniv got up and went out with his bag of equipment and the rock and sand sample that he collected. Mudassar was sitting on his camel, upright and standing with their back towards Agniv.

“Get on the camel quickly, Sir. It will soon be sunrise.” Mudassar urged.

“How can I get on the camel, she’s standing, tell her to sit down.”

“Not on this camel, there’s another camel waiting for you to ride.”

“Will it not be better if we start once the daylight breaks? We might fall into a sinkhole in the darkness.”

“Don’t worry the camels can sense the sinkholes even in the darkness and avoid them. Now, ride the camel, we have to reach Barmer before the sunrise.”

“Where did you get this other camel? I am not going to pay you extra for this.”

“That one belongs to my aunt. She won’t ask you for money.”

Agniv got on to the camel and Mudassar made “tut-tut” sound which prompted the camel to rise and follow the camel of Mudassar. After a while, Agniv could hardly make out the figures of the camel and its rider, there was a kind of glow surrounding them. His own camel without any prompting was sedately following the glow ahead.

“Mudassar, are you there?” Agniv called out.

“Yes Sir, very much, just ahead of you. Please don’t shout, let the animals concentrate on the path.”

“I can’t see either of you. Hope your camel is wise enough to avoid the sinkholes in this darkness.”

“The camel is on the right path.”

True, to his words, the camel was on the right path, soon he could see the silhouettes of the camp ahead. Agniv got down from the camel as they reached the camp. He took out the money to give to Mudassar but couldn’t see him anywhere in the vicinity. Agniv was surprised that he has gone away without taking his remuneration. He assumed, he will come back in the morning after resting up.   

In the evening, instead of Mudassar, Usman Ali came to the camp with a young man of Agniv’s age. They have been looking the lost camel of Mudassar’s aunt which went missing after the desert storm yesterday. Usman said, “I was worried about you…how did you reach here?”

“Why? Last night, Mudassar came to your stone room and called me, you were in deep sleep so I did not disturb you and left with him. In fact, he brought another camel for me. See, it is still there.” Agniv pointed out to the camel grazing near the camp office.

The young man shouted, “Oh, there it is, that’s our camel.”

“What are you saying, Sir?” Usman sounded surprised.

“Yes, Mudassar was on his own camel and I was riding this one. It followed them and brought me to the camp early this morning.”

“How is that possible? Yesterday, in that sand storm, Mudassar and his camel fell into a sinkhole and were buried deep into the sand. You can say, they vanished from the earth.” The young man named Irfan, cousin of Mudassar spoke sadly.

“That’s not true, Irfan. They may have fallen into a sinkhole but they are still with us… Mudassar kept his promise of bringing back Agniv Sir to the camp.”

Irfan started crying like a child and Agniv was speechless… his scientific brain refused to believe what he experienced but deep inside he felt a sense of gratitude for the departed soul of Mudassar and his camel for bringing him back to the camp safely.