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.

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.     

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.  

Dolon liked the single-story bungalow with front and rear lawns, three spacious bedrooms, separate living and dining rooms. There was small pond behind the house accessible through a wicker gate. She sighed and thought, how long are we going to stay here? Her husband, Shubro is a police officer with a transferable job that doesn’t let them stay at one place for than three years. The most affected person is their daughter Tumpa or Shinjini, she has already moved three schools, now will be in her fourth school. Dolon hoped she likes the new school and makes new friends quickly. The bungalow was just outside the city limits, sparsely populated area but very peaceful, Dolon was happy that unnecessary vendors and strangers won’t be calling up.

The household stuff had arrived yesterday, Dolon had been busy since morning setting up the house with the help of their man Friday, Govind, a havildar attached with Subhro. He is now gone for the day promising to get a house-help in the morning. Her mind was cluttered with many thoughts about this new place… whether she will get an efficient maid to getting Tumpa admitted to a good school and a good tutor for her, though Tumpa is quite intelligent and had been on top of her class till date. She was standing near the wicker gate and looking at the pond when her thoughts were disrupted…

Mom… mom, where are you?

Tumpa was alone inside and it’s getting dark as well; she came rushing to find Tumpa in company of a lady of her age, slim and dignified, they were talking and laughing as if they knew each other for longtime. The lady, when she saw Dolon, smiled at her with folded hands in gesture of namaskar.

“Hello, my name is Malini, your neighbor. When I got to know of your arrival, I couldn’t wait to welcome you in this peaceful place.”

“Good that you have come, I am Dolon and you have already met my daughter Tumpa. I was wondering if and when we will get to know our neighbors. You need friends in a new place to survive. Let me make some tea for us, then we will sit and talk.”

“Please don’t bother about making tea, actually, I don’t take tea or any beverage, stopped taking, a long time ago. Please sit and let’s chat, you hardly meet anyone intelligent to talk.”

“Very true, sister, the morning passes with household work, then Tumpa comes back from school and plays alone while I read the books or magazine till my husband comes back. It’s a boring life being the wife of a police officer. Do you live close by?”

“Yes, been here for a long time… sometimes I feel suffocated not able to meet and talk with others. But what to do? Will have to stay put till the call comes…”

“What about your children?”

“One girl, same age as Tumpa…very shy, doesn’t want to show up in front of people. Will try to bring her along tomorrow.”

“Sure, send her in the afternoon after school, let the kids play and you can come once you finish your work. We will have a good time.”

“Very well, I must go now, it’s getting dark.”

“Sit for a while more, where’s your husband?”

“He works with the police.”

“Wow, what similarity, sister! Is he here in this city?”

“He was, but…”

“Okay, understood, he has been transferred to a new place and looking for a good place before calling you guys over. The department heads should show some empathy before signing the transfer orders, life becomes so difficult moving from one place to another and before you settle down, you are served your next posting.”

“Exactly, my life has become hell…”

Malini couldn’t finish her sentence and started sobbing. Without waiting further, she suddenly got up and left. Dolon heard the gate open as Malini disappeared in the darkness.

Almost immediately, Shubro came in and said, “What’s the matter, you haven’t switched on the lights? It’s dark outside. Where is Tumpa?”

“Oh, I didn’t realise talking with our neighbor Malini. You missed her by a whisker, nice, dignified woman, she left just before you came in. She has a daughter of Tumpa’s age, she will get her along tomorrow.” Dolon spoke as she switched on the lights.

“Wow, very nice, you found a friend on the first day itself. But who’s she? Where do they live?”

“Her name is Malini, lives nearby only. You know, her husband is also in police service. He was in your police station only but has been transferred, will take his family once he can arrange a suitable house.”

“He was posted here? What’s his name?”

“Oh crap, I forgot to ask his name, will find out tomorrow. Shall I make some tea for you?”

“Yes please, and also some snacks to go with it. It had been a very busy day, didn’t get time to have lunch even… there are two active gangs and they have declared war against each other… five murders in last two weeks…” Subhro entered the bedroom while talking.

“Just see, the little one, Tumpa is sleeping. Hey baby… Tumpa, wake up baby. You will be awake like an owl if you sleep now.”

The following day afternoon, Dolon was in the kitchen, preparing lunch when Tumpa appeared at the door and said, “Mom, give me some wheat dough.”

Dolon looked at her daughter with surprise, she had gone with Subhro in the morning for admission in the nearby Missionary School and was dropped back a little while ago.

“Why? What will you do with the dough?”

“I will go fishing.”

“Where will you go for fishing?”

“Why, at the pond behind our house.”

“I don’t think there are any fish in that stagnant water body.”

“Yes, there are, Juhi said she used to fish quite often. You just give me some dough.” Tumpa sounded a little impatient.

“But we don’t have fishing equipment, did your father buy you any?”

“No, I found them in the outhouse, cleaned them and they are ready for fishing.”

Dolon gave her a portion of dough from which she was making the chapati and Tumpa rushed out from the house. Dolon finished her cooking and laid down the table for lunch. She went to the rear of the house and from the porch saw Tumpa sitting on the bank of the pond, fishing rod in hand waiting patiently for the fish(s) to bite the bait. She silently went over to check on her. There were four medium sized fish lying on a newspaper next to her. She was whispering, “Hey Juhi, tell me when to pull… do you think the fish has bitten the bait?”

There was tension in the fishing wire and Tumpa instantly pulled the wire in a jerk… she caught another fish and was euphoric in her achievement. She noticed her mother.

“Mom, did you see how expertly I caught the fish? There are large number of fishes in this pond. Now on, we don’t have to buy fish from the market. Juhi has taught me how to fish.”

Dolon was taken aback, she said, “I have been watching you for some time now, where’s your friend Juhi? I didn’t see her.”

“What are you saying Mom? She was here a few moments back. She only helped me find the fishing rod from the outhouse and showed me how to put the bait and throw the line in the water. She must be hiding somewhere…she’s very shy.”

“Who’s Juhi? Your new friend from the school?”

“What? You forgot… yesterday Malini aunty mentioned about her daughter Juhi.”

“Oh, that’s very good. Please find her and bring her over, lunch is ready. And both of you wash up before joining at the table.”

After a while, Tumpa came alone, dejected.

“What happened? You couldn’t find her?”

“No Mom, I checked everywhere but she’s nowhere to be found.”

“Did you check under the bed or the cupboards? You said that she’s been to this house earlier, many times, she might be hiding in some corner.”

“She used live here, Mom.”

“Here, in this house? Was his father a big officer like your dad?”

“I don’t know that, she didn’t say anything about her father.”

“You are an idiot; you were together for so long and couldn’t ask where her father is or what’s his name? Do you know where they live now?”

Dolon picked up the bunch of fish that Tumpa had caught and said, “I will clean these and fry them. If Juhi comes, please bring her to the kitchen, will treat her with some sweets.”

Dolon going to the kitchen, was passing by the bedroom of Tumpa when she noticed that her bedsheet was in complete disarray and soiled with muddy little footprints. She was irritated but controlled herself for the time being. Tumpa will get the scolding later.

“Memsahib…memsahib…” Govind was calling from outside. Dolon became angry, he was supposed to get a maid in the morning for top work. She went out to see him, ready to scold.

“What happened Govind? Didn’t I tell you to get a house-help in the morning? And you have come alone without the maid!”

“Sorry Ma’am but Sir sent me to the railway station to buy the tickets. There was a long queue…”

“What ticket? For whom?”

“For you people. Sir asked me to give you this letter.” Govind extended his hand to give her the letter.

Dolon was taken aback; they have landed only a couple of days ago and Subhro is asking her to pack-up immediately. She thought of calling him for clarification but Subhro called before that and briefly explained that his brother had called to inform that their mother’s health has suddenly deteriorated, therefore is the urgency. However, to Dolon, it was not convincing because she had spoken her mother-in-law and she sounded quite cheerful and healthy.

“Mom, I am hungry, did you fry the fish?” Tumpa asked.

“Two minutes, it will be ready. Did you find your friend Juhi?”

“Yes, she was hiding in the outhouse. I asked her to join us for lunch but she declined saying she doesn’t eat fish anymore, not even her mother. She went away.”

Dolon dismissed Govind and went inside for lunch preparation.

Later, in the sleeper class when most co-passengers including Tumpa were sleeping, she couldn’t hold back any more and asked Subhro, “Are you awake?”

“Yes, you want to say something?”

“I spoke to Maa in the morning and sounded well, what happened to her? Is it serious?”

“I don’t know exactly but Abhro, my brother called up to say, Maa has taken ill in the morning and we should return at the earliest.”

“But we will return after a few days, why did we have to vacate that nice bungalow?”

“We will get a nicer place to say in the city, if we have to come back but definitely not in that house.”

“Why? Is it because your police station was far from there?”

“No, that’s not the problem.”

“Then? Both Tumpa and I had made such nice friends, that too of our age only. In fact Juhi, in that brief time, taught Tumpa how catch fish from the pond. And Malini was so gentle and intelligent. Now, I don’t know if we will meet them again or not…”

“It is better, if you don’t meet them again, ever.”

“What are you saying? Please explain.” Dolon became agitated and sat on her berth.

“You probably won’t be able to digest the truth.”

“What is there not to believe? You probably will say that you have found that they are not good people and we should avoid mixing with them. But I know they are good people. Malini herself came to welcome us on the very first evening.”

“Okay, listen to me very carefully. I checked in the neighborhood, nobody knew anything about Malini and her daughter Juhi, never heard of them. My people checked every house in the vicinity but they were not to be found.” Subhro, sipped a little water and then continued…

“You said her husband was posted in the same police station, so I enquired in the office but no one remembers him. Isn’t that strange? Then I called for the records and found that almost thirty years ago there was an Inspector by the name Nripen Das who’s wife was Malini and they had a daughter named Juhi. One evening, both the mother and daughter were found dead under suspicious circumstances. Probably the mother poisoned her daughter before taking her own life.”

Dolon, wide eyed was visibly shaken, her throat drying up, with great difficulty, she asked, “What happened to the father?”

“There was a brief note that Inspector Nripen Das was suspended in a bribery case. I could not probe further because a warring faction in a land encroachment case came and I got busy with them. But, honestly, I neither know what happened to Nripen Das nor want to know. Happy that we are going back home, unscathed.”

Mayank Sharma liked the arrangement from the moment he saw the little red single storied brickhouse with its own garden encircling the house like an embankment. Besides, it was nestled amongst the pine trees adjacent to the forested land. The owner of the little house was an elderly couple, the old woman said, “We normally don’t let out our room but my husband is suffering from paralysis and we need the money for his treatment.” Mayank had no issues with the money she asked for because the client would pay for his visit including the boarding and lodging. He came for the audit of the accounts of a factory in this otherwise sleepy industrial town. He asked his associate from the client side to pay the lady for his three days stay. He decided to eat at the factory canteen not bothering the old lady.

Mayank followed the lady to his assigned room. As they entered the room, she said, “This used to be my husband’s work room before he became paralyzed. Now, I have shifted him to the inside room because he wouldn’t let me close that window ever. The rains would lash the window during monsoon and chilly breeze wafted inside during the winters…not good for the ailing old man.”

Mayank approached the window which opened to the forested landscape, a long winding narrow road going from the house to the horizon beyond the small hillock at the bend half a kilometer away through the lined pine trees. The scenic beauty was breathtaking. Then his eyes caught an old canvas hung next to the window depicting the beauty outside with an additional feature of a cyclist coming towards the house or standing just beyond the small hillock at the bend. The figure was too small to see any details. Sensing his interest in the painting, the old lady spoke, “That was painted by my husband long ago, when he and his friend came to this town to teach in the local missionary school. They would often go cycling through the woods in the evening.” Mayank noticed that the canvas is very old and at places the fabric is crumbling, may be because of termites.

The old lady, before taking leave from Mayank, checked if he liked the room. There was no reason for Mayank to not liking the room, it was well lighted and airy with a large double bed from where one could see through the window into the far horizon and a study table with the chair facing the window completed the furnishing. The bedside stand had a water jug with a glass and clock. In any case he will only be spending three nights here in the room as he will mostly be at the factory auditing the accounts of his client.

Mayank brought his suitcase from the car and quickly changed into fresh clothing and left with his associate to begin the auditing. His whole day passed engrossed in work; he returned to the little red brickhouse around 9 o’clock. The iron gate made a clanking noise as he opened it, except for the wind blowing through the pine leaves, the surroundings are dead drop silent. The old lady appeared at the door probably awakened by the sound of the car and the opening of the gate. When she saw Mayank, she went back inside. Mayank had his dinner at the factory canteen, so after changing into his nightwear, he switched off the lights and hit the bed…soon he was fast asleep.

Mayank woke up around midnight, maybe because he slept earlier than his usual time, the moonlight through the skylight above his bed was flooding the room especially the canvas. He was looking at it and suddenly realized it was looking different than what he saw in the morning… the cyclist in the painting was no longer at the bend but much closer, in fact, he was pedaling slowly and had reached the side of the hillock. Mayank concentrated on the image but the man stayed there only though he seemed to be pedaling slowly. After a while, Mayank slept again only to be woken up early in the morning by the crying of the old man in the adjacent room. The skies had lighted up and birds have started chirping in the woods. Mayank decided to pay a visit to the ailing old man before leaving for work in the morning.

As he was getting ready, Mayank glanced at the canvas, everything was in its place as he saw first, the cyclist was at the bend, static as before. He laughed at himself for imagining things, how is it even possible for a painted image to move on the canvas!!

The old lady was standing on the veranda as he emerged from his room, she asked politely, “Hope, you had a good nightly sleep without any disturbance…”

“Yes, I had a good sleep.” Mayank replied and then asked, “I heard agonizing cry in the morning, hope your husband is okay now… can I see him?”

“His pains aggravate around the full moon and new moon, last night he slept lightly often waking up in pain. He is sleeping now but you can come and see him.”

Mayank followed the lady into the back of the house to the adjacent room where a frail man slept on the large cot. The skeletal body often trembled in spasm, the face once belonged to a handsome man but now wrinkled with unshaven uneven beards and balding scalp. There were no windows in the room, the air flowed from the only door from the passage. After spending few minutes with the old couple in that room, Mayank left for the factory as his associate honked from the road.

Mayank remained busy in work throughout the day and was dropped back late in the evening to the little red brickhouse. As he entered through the gate, he could hear the same agonizing cry of the old man. The excruciating pain has become unbearable for him. Mayank felt a sense of helplessness. The crying continued as he prepared to hit the bed, he switched off the light and after a while the crying subsided, the painkillers probably started working.

Mayank was woken up, past midnight by the crying of the old man. The room was flooded by the moonlight, the view through the window was clear too, the moonlight had created a surreal effect on the surroundings…he could see the winding road through the pine forest clearly including the hillock in the far distance. Automatically, his eyes drifted from the window to the canvas, everything was as before, except the cyclist, he seemed to have cycled closer now, well past the hillock. The image was much clearer today, the cyclist was wearing britches with a pump shoe, a hat covering the upper half of his face. He was pedaling slowly coming to the red brickhouse.

Mayank, got up from the bed switching on the lights, closely examined the painting, nothing was amiss, all the elements were in their original places. He sighed at his foolish thoughts and slept again.

He was woken up in the morning, again by the loud crying of the old man from the next room. Mayank came out of his room and found the old lady resting on the veranda chair, her face revealed that she didn’t get any sleep or rest throughout the night, taking care of her husband. She smiled feebly seeing Mayank.

“His condition has deteriorated, is it?”

“Yes, he is in lot of pain since last evening.”

“Did you call for the doctor?”

“There’s no point calling the doctor, they have given the best and strongest medicine… nothing more can they do. It is only matter of tonight, if he survives…” her voice trailed off.

The agonizing constant crying of the old man filled the otherwise serene atmosphere throughout the morning. Mayank got ready for work, all the time feeling sorry for the old couple. He prayed for the pain relief of the old man and left for the factory, today is his last day and he must finish the auditing.

Mayank remained busy completing the audit and by the time he reached his rented accommodation, it was quite late, close to 11 o’clock. Being the full moon night, the surroundings are flooded with moonlight. The pine leaves fluttering in breeze and crickets chirping in the distance broke the eerie silence of the night. No one in the house stirred even when Mayank opened the gate. He thought of checking on the old man but decided against it, the old couple must be sleeping after a exhausting day. He decided to speak to the lady before leaving for home in the morning.

Mayank was not just tired but exhausted, he quickly changed into his nightwear and packed up his bag as much as possible leaving the essential stuff he would need in the morning. He stood in front of the window to soak in the beauty of the nature one last time. The full moon had flooded the mother earth with full glory, the breeze crisscrossing through the pine leaves was creating the background music while the trees danced in celebration. He closed the window cutting off the illumination from the moonlight hoping to sleep without getting up in the middle of the night because of the light. Within minutes of hitting the pillow, he had drifted into a dreamless sleep.

Mayank, for no apparent reason woke up, adjusting to the near dark room, he looked at the clock on the bedside table, the radium coated needles announced the time to be 3 am. Just then he thought he heard the clanking of the bicycle bell. He got up from the bed and without switching on the light, slowly opened the window. He stood still by the window, unable to move, outside on the winding road, very close to the red brickhouse, the cyclist from the canvas was standing and ringing the bell… once, twice, thrice, pause and then repeat. Suddenly, a man appeared from the house and walked towards the cyclist. They spoke softly, probably greeting each other and then the man climbed on the cycle. The cyclist turned the bike and started pedaling back to the hillock and beyond…soon they disappeared round the bend. Mayank waited for some more time but none of them returned.

The chatter outside his room, woke him up in the morning. The memory of last night’s events became vivid. He came out to find a group of people in serious discussion and in the distance, the old lady sitting amongst few females. He could figure out from their demeanor that the man of the house is no more. He reached out to the old lady and placed a sympathetic hand on her. She looked up to him and said, “My husband is no more.” A few tears drop rolled down her cheek. “In a way, it is good for he was suffering a lot for the last few days” she continued, “Actually, he became unwell a year back, when his best friend with whom he had come here and settled down in their youth, suddenly passed away after a brief illness. Every evening, they used ride in a bicycle on that road through the pine forest. He couldn’t get over the sudden death of his friend, he had a paralytic stroke. Once he said that he saw his friend waiting at the corner of that road and calling him to join. It was a full moon night. I got scared and moved him to the inner room but he would become restless on a full moon night.”

“When did it happen?”

“The doctor said that he breathed his last around 3 am.” The old lady broke down completely.

Mayank came back to his room and stood in front of the canvas. Everything seemed to be in order except the cyclist had vanished from the frame. The termites have eaten up that space. Finally, the cyclist has taken his friend for a long journey on the winding road through the pine forest, never to return again.

Sometimes, truth is stranger than fiction.

Many years ago, while visiting my maternal uncle in Kolkata, I came across a news item in a Bengali newspaper, “A dreaded serial killer, Sikandar Baksh, after brutally killing a businessman of Bou Bazaar is absconding and police believe that he was hiding somewhere within the city only. They were hopeful of arresting him soon…” I read the news in passing and did not give much thought to it.

A few years later, after marrying off his daughter Mimi, my uncle suddenly passed away. It became a handful for my aunt to manage the large ancestral house, it was sold to a developer and she moved in the heart of Kolkata in a rented flat in Tollygunge, till her own flat in the vicinity gets ready.

My job as Marketing Manager took me across the country for short hauls including Kolkata but never for a long enough period to meet any relations, at best I could connect with them over a telephone call. I always spoke to my aunt over phone when I visited Kolkata but couldn’t visit her. Then, couple of years ago, an opportunity came when I had to extend my stay in the city over the weekend and I decided pay her a visit. So, on Sunday afternoon, I checked out of the hotel and went over to her house in Tollygunge.

My aunt was overwhelmed with joy seeing me. She hugged me and took me inside. It was a two-bedroom apartment, small but neat and clean. She asked me about my parents and siblings back home. And how’s my job and long I am in the city. The maid brought tea and snacks for us. She informed that the maid comes in the morning around 8am and leaves at 8pm after preparing the dinner, doesn’t stay overnight. While we were chatting, I could sense that my aunt was anxious about something, her body language suggested that she was under some kind of stress.

“What is it that you are feeling stressed?” I finally asked her.

“No, it’s nothing, I am not stressed but happy to see you after such a long time.” She tried to evade my question. I did not press further.

Later, after dinner, she asked me sleep in her room while she sleeps in the guest bedroom, “You, sleep in my room, I will take the other room.”

“No way, you sleep in your own bed, I will sleep in the guest room and it is a matter of one night only.” I refused her offer firmly.

“Okay, in case you need anything at night, wake me up.”

A sumptuous dinner and the comfortable king size bed soon put me to sleep. The Tollygunge area was infested with mosquitos because of many waterbodies and every household uses a mosquito net besides the repellents at night. Though the peak winter was gone, the nights still had some chill, so the mosquito net provided a bit of coziness that helped in sound sleep… only if one is not awakened by the sudden ringing of the mobile phone.

I was rudely woken up by the constant ringing of my mobile phone that I had kept on the bedside table along with my wristwatch and purse. It took me few moments to figure out where I am and where’s ringing sound coming from, and then few more to slide my hand out from the mosquito net. And then I got the shock that sent a chill through my spine… a black hairy hand holding my phone extended towards me… just the hand from the elbow to palm was visible. My throat became dry, I could hardly speak, mustering courage I shouted, “Who are you? What are you doing in my room?” But I guess only a throaty groan came out. Meanwhile, the phone had stopped ringing and the black hairy hand placed it back on the table as my aunt knocked on the door, “Bubai, are you okay? I heard some noise…”

I got out of the bed and opened the door to let aunt come inside. She switched on the light and examined the room, everything was in its place, nothing missing. At last, she said, “Did you had a bad dream? Because the sound you were making usually happens if you are having a nightmare.”

“Yes, aunty, probably it was a nightmare.” There was nothing else to explain otherwise. Moreover, I did not want to scare her unnecessarily.

She put on a night lamp and went back to her room. Though, I was a bit scared and kept searching the room in the low blue light of the lamp for the black hairy hand and the person that it belonged, but eventually sleep overpowered my anxiety. The night passed without any further disturbances. In the morning after breakfast, I took leave from my aunt promising to meet her again not knowing that was the last I have seen her alive.

My cousin, Mimi, herself an engineer had married a techie and settled in Bangalore, we kept in touch through social media and occasional telephone calls as life became busy with our involvement in our own family and career advancement. Even that became irregular to the point of just wishing each other on special occasion and festivals.

Last Sunday, I got a call from my cousin Mimi that her mother, my aunt had passed away and the last rites will be performed at Kolkata and she will be grateful if I could join them as I am the only relative, she has now from either side of her parents. I told her that I will finish my work on Monday and take the late evening flight to Kolkata.

I reached Dumdum around midnight, coming out from the airport found Sujoy (Mimi’s husband) waiting for me. It took us 40 minutes to reach Tollygunge, though I wanted to stay in a hotel, Mimi insisted that I stay with them, she actually emotionally blackmailed me to stay with them. Besides the three of them, Mimi, Sujoy and their son Rupam, the full-time housekeeper of my aunt were present when I reached. After chatting for a while, we retired for the day, I was directed to a guestroom when I realized that this is a bigger and different apartment than where I had last visited. I asked Mimi, “This is a different apartment, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is a different and bigger apartment than where you last stayed.”

“What happened? When did you buy this and why the change?”

“It’s a long story; I will tell you tomorrow but promise that you won’t make fun of it.”

I promised her not to make fun of her but became impatient to hear all about it.

During the day, we remained busy with arrangements for the last rites besides attending to visitors and relations who came to express their heartfelt condolences. At last, after dinner, I could get hold of Mimi and demanded to know the reason for shifting the house. We were sitting in the living room. Mimi went inside and came with a slim file, composing herself, she started narrating…

A few months after you visited mother, few unnatural things happened in that house, the part-time maid often complained to mother that whenever she went to the guest room to clean in the evening, she felt the presence of someone else in the room. Maa dismissed her saying it was all psychological and eventually told her to clean the room when daylight is still there. This helped to an extent but then even Maa could hear footsteps in the adjoining room whenever she woke up at night. She did not tell us or anyone else lest we feel distressed living far away from her. Then, Sujoy came to Kolkata on work and decided stay with her instead of the company guesthouse. She told him to take her room, while she sleeps in the guestroom but Sujoy flatly refused.

The first two nights passed peacefully, nothing untoward happened or Sujoy was too tired and slept soundly through the night. On the last night of his stay, he and Maa chatted quite late into the night. He tried reasoning with her to come and live with us in Bengaluru. She was adamant that she cannot go and live with her daughter, typical traditional mentality.

Mimi looked at Sujoy and said, “Why don’t you narrate the incidence yourself?”

Sujoy:

I was a little disturbed because, with age, Maa’s health was an issue but I could not dent her traditional thoughts. I kept tossing and turning, it took some time for me fall asleep. I don’t know how long I had slept but woke up as I felt someone is nudging my pillow and breathing heavily like when you experience nose block. I was sleepy, thought Maa is trying to wake me up needing some help. I opened my eyes and froze. A very dark muscular man with thick black moustache is looking at me angrily, his eyes were burning red. I tried get up but he forced me down, his black hairy hands started strangling me… he was saying something in a language I couldn’t understand. I gathered all my strength and pushed his hand away from my neck. In the sudden act of mine, the man lost his balance and fell backwards hitting the table, toppling it. I ran out of the room on to the veranda chanting Gayatri Mantra and taking deep breath. Once I had calmed down, gathering my wits, I came back to the room and switched on the light, the clock showed 4:45 am, only an hour away for sunrise. The table had indeed toppled, my phone, purse and the watch lay all over the floor. But there was no signs of any other person except a foul smell of rotting animal filling the room. I was surprised that with all such commotion and noise, Maa did not wake up. I took the chair outside, sitting on the veranda waited for the sunrise.

In the morning, I called up Mimi asking her to take the next flight to Kolkata without explaining the reason, called up my office to inform of my extended stay in the city for family emergency. I realized that Maa had been taking sleeping pills probably to avoid the nightly encounter with her roommate.

While having breakfast together, Maa suddenly pointed to my neck and said, “What are those blue marks on your neck? Tell me what happened in the night.” There was shock and terror writ on her face. I dismissed her fear saying I do get such marks not just in the neck but other parts of the body sometimes and it goes away on its own, the doctors have assured nothing to worry. By the look in her eyes, I knew she did not believe me.

I went to office to finish few urgent assignments and picked up Mimi from the airport. Maa was surprised and happy to see Mimi. Together, we put pressure on her to shift with us to Bengaluru immediately. Reluctantly, she agreed to go on a temporary basis till this apartment gets ready. She was with us in Bengaluru for six months and moved in this apartment. Mimi arranged for a full-time housekeeper to move-in with her. She stopped taking the sleeping pills and lived peacefully.  

Sujoy stopped and Mimi extended the slim file towards me. I opened it to find few newspaper cuttings inside. I started reading the news article from The Telegraph:

In a recent raid to a warehouse in Khidirpur, police have not only recovered huge quantities of drugs but have arrested two dreaded criminals having link to the still absconding serial killer Sikander Baksh. On sustained interrogation, the duo admitted being close associates of Sikander Baksh. Together, they had murdered the businessman from Bou Bazar and had taken shelter in an under-construction house in Tollygunge hiding from the police. There, they had an argument about sharing the loot and in the heat of the moment they had killed him and buried the body in that building.

The report further said that, police having secured the permission from the court had dug up the said house and retrieved the physical remains of a body. The DNA test confirmed it to be of Sikander Baksh.

At the end of the article, there were two photographs, a file photo of Sikander Baksh and that of the house from where the body was retrieved, the address plate next to the gate made me choke, it was the house where my aunt used live and I had spent one tormenting night.

I closed the file and returned it to Mimi. She looked at me questioningly for my comments. I decided to keep my experience with me. I still don’t know if it was real or just a bad dream, moreover, a closer has happened, so why rake up the past.