Short Stories

I believe in them, the ghosts I mean. I am no coward or a superstitious man. I simply believe that good resides in the world along with evil and they are not to be tempered with. There was a time period when I was deeply fascinated in the world of souls and ghosts but as I always believed that it causes them immense pain to cross their world to enter ours, I was convinced that they do not meddle in our lives unless we do so. I never saw the existence of supernatural as a threat but it all started that one day.

November, 2014: Few days before Dipawali. The market place was buzzing with people. Kids were demanding crackers and the women folk were chirping about the new sari the other one wore. Men being men were all about business and the shopkeepers had such vigorous styles of attracting the attention of the customers that I thought they would hurt air in the process. My sister had demanded rangoli colours that very evening and I could not refuse her. She is very persuasive for her age.

It did not take long. After buying her what she wanted, my cousin and I decided to walk back home. It was getting late, almost 11 at night. The streets were sparkling like jewels. All the houses were decorated very well with proper lightings. Some in the shape of Indian deities while others in wonderful patterns. Everything was bright and gay before we took the wrong turn.

This street was unusually quiet. I felt like I had walked on the sets of a horror film. Unlike the other streets, here there were no lavish decorations. Some houses were decorated with simple lights and were the only source of light. What caught my attention was the old, tumble down house in the corner of the street. It had a peculiar charm to it. No lights or flower garlands adorned this house. Some people do not believe in ornamentation, it is normal but what was abnormal was the staunch smell that filled the air and the multiple layers of dirt that covered every inch of that house. This is when I saw him. Big beady eyes were poking out of a very thin, shadow-covered face. I was getting late so I must hurry, my conscious thought but I could not ignore this new comer. He looked so malnourished that it came to me as a surprise that he could walk without breaking down. I observed him carefully as he walked to the door. I know the time was running out but I suppressed the urge to check my watch. I took a deep breath and started counting in reverse under my breath-“ten, nine, eight, seven....”

“Aaaaaaaaaaah!!...”-my cousin ran away screaming. Sooner than I thought. I would have had a funnier reaction from my sister but sadly, she was fast asleep in my arms. I stifled my laughter and shifted my attention back to the man. As he walked into the veranda, I observed his lean figure under the dim light. The night had deceived my eyes. It was a woman. She had long, unruly hair and a beautiful figure clad in white sari. Typical Indian ghost. Maybe this was a prank. Its common for various teenagers to prank people these days, especially during festive times. These days various comedy groups plan such pranks too so that they can film peoples’ reactions but I was too smart to be fooled. I did not loose my calm and remained composed. I heard my cousin’s hesitant steps behind me and asked him to look normal or the pranksters will film his cowardice but when I turned back, the woman was gone. She had vanished in mere seconds! Was this just a prank? I waited for a good fifteen minutes for the hidden crew to show up and reveal their known secret to us but nothing of that sort happened. I was getting more and more uncomfortable with each passing second. Had it not been for my sleeping sister, I would have jumped into the veranda to check for myself. I was debating what to do when my cousin demanded to go home. He had lost all his patience and could not stand the creepiness that the house was projecting but for me, this was the first time I felt that supernatural might temper with us if they want.

The next morning I went to the same place to enquire. It was hard to get my answers. People of that street never spared that house a second glance and did not entertain my questions. The house had an odd look to it. It was nothing like some abandoned haunted house but something about it spoke mystery. The more I observed it old walls, the more I got convinced of the presence of a demonic being inside. I do not entertain meddling with spirits and was about to leave when a woman approached me. She told me that she had been noticing me and would like to help but as soon as I mentioned that house, her sweet smile shifted into a straight line. She looked at me for a few minutes till a sad smile broke on her otherwise expression less face. In a grave tone she began-

“Inside that unholy house lives the soul of an unhappy widow. She screams during the day time to chase people away from her haunting and marches at night to mark her territory. Some men have seen her at times, she has thick, long hair and very big eyes. Go away son and do not fool yourself. What will become of your family if she feeds upon you? ”

After advising me not to meddle with such forces of nature that are beyond human control, she left. I looked at that house for a long time. Any rational man would have left that place but curse curiosity, the mother of all mischief, I returned that very night.

I jumped into the veranda of that house and looked around. With a torch in one hand and a stick in another, I mustered up all the courage that I had to look for my miss mystery. I do not know what convinced me to meddle with supernatural affairs. Maybe it was because of the blood-shod eyes that I saw near the window of this house earlier today after talking to that woman. Maybe there is no ghost after all. I needed to see miss mystery regardless of the outcome but after an hour of useless efforts, I gave up my hunt and was about to leave when a thin hand tucked my arm. Before I could even react, a woman hugged me tight and began sobbing. I relaxed. She is no ghost, spirits do not cry but then I noticed her bloodstained drape. My body got tensed and I prepared myself for the worst. Now that I was sure that she is not a spirit, I sat beside her.

Her tale wrenched my heart. She lives with her cruel brother-in-law who has locked away her son. After her husband’s death, he had looked at her body as a mere source of easy income and had invited men that very night. She told me how she became his punching bag as she scared them away by her ghost act. I felt terrible for her and her poor little boy. She was shaking with fear and I with anger, so when I saw him coming out of the house and knocked him unconscious before he could say anything. Cruel, greedy, evil man. I called the police and left with the woman.

I felt proud of myself that Dipawali. I switched a bleeding drape with a new embroidered sari. The woman thanked me a trillion times when I left her at the women shelter home. The police praised me and the culprit lay behind the bars. I was the star saviour. The only sad part was that the son was nowhere to be found but now the case is in police’s hands. They will find him.

The next morning, i went to the station to give my statement. There I saw the sinner trying to reason with the police. He had been unconscious since the incident and woken up that very day. I sat with a proud look on my face. I must have hit him real hard. His right cheek was badly bruised by my punch. Good, he deserved that and much more but what pissed me off was his attitude. He looked at me as if I was the criminal who was causing him inconvenience and after committing such a grave crime, he had guts enough to reason! I looked at him in disgust but for some reason the police officer had an apologetic look.

“So, you are saying....” the police officer began.

“..That you cannot possibly believe what my mother said to this man considering her medical conditions”.