The Time Ghost

Vessu, Anantnag, Kashmir, 14 July, 2025

Like every other morning, I woke up and began my day with a cup of green tea. The silence around me felt heavier today, a quiet reminder that I was alone in this place—like a stranger in a land that refused to call me its own. Yet, this was where I had to be. My job tethered me here, and perhaps, whether I liked it or not, this place had become my home. Outside, just like every other day, the garbage collectors arrive, calling out as they go about their routine. And as always, I feel a familiar reluctance creeping in—the sheer laziness of stepping out just to dispose of the trash.

As Sumit opens the door, he steps outside with a bag of garbage in hand.

"How are you all doing?" he asks the sanitation workers with a friendly tone.

"We're all fine," one of them replies before narrowing his eyes in curiosity. "But who are you, and since when have you been living here?"

“What happened to them all of a sudden? Perhaps they are joking,” Sumit chuckled, trying to mask his unease.

"You people have a rather peculiar sense of humor," he added with a forced smile.

“Joke?” One of the garbage collectors scoffed. “We are not joking. Now, tell us quickly—who are you, and how did you get here? Because just a few days ago, someone else lived here, and they’ve moved away now.”

"What jest are you indulging in now? Pray, do adopt a more serious demeanor," I implored. "Listen well, for tomorrow I depart for my abode, and thus I beseech you to inform me of the payment due for this month." Sumit, with a faint smile playing upon his lips, spoke these words, yet the refuse collectors regarded him with queer, sidelong glances.

Sumit couldn't understand why everyone was staring at him as if he were a complete stranger.

"Come on, guys, don't act like this," he said, his voice laced with frustration. "I'm already running late for school, the office is about to open, and I have to leave tomorrow anyway. So please, just stop behaving this way."

His words carried a desperate urgency, but the gazes fixed on him remained unchanged.

"Alright, I'm going. I'm already late."  Sumit hastily tosses his crumpled uniform into the washing bin and quickly gets ready, rushing out the door for school.

Sumit hurriedly made his way towards the school, which was only a short walk from his residence. As he arrived at the school gate, the watchman sitting in front looked up and, upon seeing Sumit, froze in terror. He immediately shouted, “Sumit Sir is here! Sumit Sir is here!”

The teachers and administrative staff who were seated in the school park quickly turned towards the gate. Their eyes widened in disbelief, and fear was evident on their faces as they stared at the unexpected sight.

Vessu Colony... What on earth is happening here? How is Sumit here? Sumit's neighbors were consumed by this one thought, their minds racing to understand how Sumit had managed to arrive here, and how such a thing was even possible.

Everyone at the school was in utter disbelief upon seeing Sumit. As he stood there, somewhat distant, Sunil Sir, who had always been close to him, stepped forward with tears brimming in his eyes. He embraced Sumit tightly and said, “I knew it... I knew you would come back.”

Sumit simply stared at him, a piercing look in his eyes. But before he could respond, a voice suddenly came from behind. "Sunil, stay away. This isn't Sumit. It might be an impostor or perhaps his lookalike. After all, Sumit is dead... and the dead never return in this materialistic world."

Hearing this, Sumit was struck with confusion. He smiled faintly, a hint of unease in his expression. "Honestly, I've been hearing strange things since this morning, but now... it's getting a bit too much."

"Call the police, quickly. Something feels off to me," one of the teachers said, a sense of urgency in their voice.

The Principal, without wasting a moment, rushed to his office and immediately placed a call to the authorities. Within moments, the police arrived at the school, entering with a swift determination. They headed straight for the Principal's office, where Sumit was sitting, and began their line of questioning.

Today, I’ve truly run late. Principal Sir won’t let me off the hook today. Shafon, once again, is late.

Shafon works in the establishment section of the school, though he doesn’t particularly enjoy the job. Yet, despite his reluctance, he had no choice but to accept it. After completing his office duties, he dedicates all his time to his true passion—cosmology. It is in the study of the stars and the universe where his heart truly lies.

"Why is the police here?" Shafon murmured to himself in a low voice, his thoughts swirling with confusion.

"Sir, we’ve asked Sumit a number of questions, but he keeps saying that he doesn’t understand what’s going on. He’s baffled as to why everyone is treating him this way, insisting that he’s dead. We showed him the video of his accident, the moment he was rushed to the hospital, and where he supposedly said his final goodbyes to this world. Yet, he still refuses to believe it—he insists none of this happened and keeps asking to meet with you," the officer reported.

"Who is this Shafon?" the cop officer inquired, turning to the Principal.

"He works in our administration. He may not be here today," the Principal replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

"Good morning, sir."

"Good morning, Shefon. Late again, I see," the principal replied, his gaze sharp yet composed. "This officer here has a few questions for you."

"Alright, Sir, but what exactly happened?" Shefon inquires.

"The police officer will explain everything to you; please follow him," the Principal responds.

As Sumit steps out of the Principal's office, Shefon's gaze falls on him, and he is taken aback. He stares in disbelief at Sumit, a familiar yet incongruous figure. Meanwhile, the police begin their questioning.

They turn to Shefon, their voices filled with suspicion. "Sumit was asking for you, saying he wanted to meet you. But you're aware, aren't you? Sumit had been in an accident, and he bid farewell to this world a while ago. So, who is this person standing before us now? Could there be some conspiracy on your part?"

The police officer fixes Shefon with an intense, scrutinizing stare, as if seeking answers hidden within his very soul.

"Sorry, officer, I... I don’t quite understand what's going on, and I’m at a loss for words because I’m just as shocked as you are. But I need to meet Sumit. Can I see him?" Shefon requests, seeking permission from the police officer.

"Yes, you may go," the officer grants him permission.

As Shefon approaches, eager to meet Sumit, he is taken aback when Sumit suddenly appears before him, walking towards him.

"Shefon... Oh! It’s really you! I’ve been looking for you," Sumit exclaims, his voice tinged with desperation. "Please, get me out of this mess. I don’t understand what's happening, what’s going on at all..."

"I met you just yesterday, and now you're saying all these strange things?" Sumit says, his voice trembling with confusion.

"Yesterday? No, Sumit, you didn't meet me yesterday," Shefon responds, his tone barely above a whisper. "And I can't make sense of any of this... how are you here, and alive?"

Sumit stares at him, bewildered. "Come on, we were just talking about time travel and cosmological facts yesterday. Don't you remember?" he insists, grasping for some thread of familiarity. "Think, Shefon—think about it!"

“But I’m still confused... how is all of this happening? I mean, you’re right here in front of me, alive?” Shefon says with a quiet assurance.

“Yes, I’m alive,” Shefon responds, his tone matter-of-fact, though a hint of bewilderment lingers in his eyes. “But I can’t quite wrap my head around why everyone here is saying such strange things.”

Sumit, caught in a moment of contemplation, suddenly turns toward Shefon with an almost piercing gaze. “Shefon… am I missing something here?” he asks, his voice laced with concern.

“Missing something? What do you mean?” Shefon inquires, the curiosity clear in his voice.

“Like... last time we discussed that bizarre physics concept—‘Quantum Suicide.’” Sumit pauses, his brow furrowing. “Could it have actually happened? Could it be real?”

"What does it mean, Sumit? That your existence—what we perceive of you—is now split. It has collided with another dimension, and as a result, your timeline has fractured in this universe, particularly at the moment of your accident in this dimension. The moment of your death here caused your existence to split into another dimension. But if this is true… who would believe it?" Shefon gazed at Sumit, his eyes intense, as he spoke these words.

"So what should I do now? I can't make sense of any of this," Sumit said, his voice tinged with anxiety. "If a portal did open when I woke up, it means it will open again... but when? I have no idea." He spoke, his words betraying his growing unease.

"And if the portal doesn’t open," Shefon said, his voice low and measured, "then perhaps you’ll be trapped here forever, and no one will ever believe you."

Sumit’s brow furrowed, a flicker of impatience crossing his face. "What am I supposed to do now, just wait?" he asked, his tone edged with frustration.

"Yes," Shefon replied calmly, "wait for that portal to open."

Shefon turned and approached the police officers standing nearby, his demeanor composed as he addressed them. "There’s no major issue here," he assured them. "Everything will be fine. I’m in touch with Sumit, and if he reveals anything—something that might prove his true identity—I’ll inform you immediately." The officers, satisfied with his explanation, nodded and departed, leaving the scene without further ado. The staff members, too, dispersed, returning to their tasks with a quiet efficiency. Yet, throughout the day, the office buzzed with whispers, and Sumit’s name lingered in every murmured conversation.

After the school day ended, Sumit walked alongside Shefon toward his home, their paths conveniently aligned along the same route. They reached the main gate, and Sumit stepped forward to cross the road. At that precise moment, Shefon called out to him, his voice sharp and sudden. Startled, Sumit’s attention wavered—just as a car barreled toward him at breakneck speed. The vehicle struck him with a sickening force, and Shefon, overcome, squeezed his eyes shut against the horror of it all.

When he dared to open them again, Sumit was gone. The car screeched to a halt a short distance ahead, its driver leaping out in a panic, eyes darting wildly as he searched for the boy who had collided with his vehicle mere seconds before. But Sumit was nowhere to be seen. The incident, fleeting and surreal, had been witnessed by only a handful of onlookers—four or five at most—leaving the air thick with an unspoken, eerie mystery.

Within just a few days, everything began to feel strangely surreal. People couldn’t quite grasp where someone like Sumit had vanished to—someone who looked so ordinary, so familiar. Shefon, too, kept mostly to himself, refraining from speaking much about it. And those who had witnessed the incident? They remained silent, trapped between disbelief and fear—afraid that sharing their experience might brand them insane.

Far from home, Shefon had found a secluded place, a quiet retreat where he could spend time with himself, away from the chaos. It was there, surrounded by solitude, that a thought took shape in his mind.

“I think The Time Ghost would be the perfect title for my upcoming book,”

he whispered to himself.

And with that, Shefon placed his pen to paper, beginning the first chapter of a story only he could tell.