Rehash of my Old Stories #1

Authorspeak: I will revisit stories written by me long back in this series. I would try to improvise on them (No guarantee though).  I wrote this story in my board examinations almost a decade back. That story was much shorter (because of the word limit of probably 350 words). As I do not have the original version there may be a change in the narration style – there has been some changes in the climax as well.

You do not really expect Indian Railways to take you to your destination on time, especially if it is the festival season. So, it was a pleasant delight for everyone on board to see the train pulling up at Patna Junction bang on time. The journey was not very comfortable – train was overcrowded but no one was complaining. I enjoyed being a part of various discussions mostly as a listener (a trait not usually associated with me). With elections round the corner, most of the talks veered to the performance of the current government and likelihood of its coming back to power. The discussions went late into the night and, to my surprise, no one in the compartment even requested to shut it down. Festivities had already begun.

There is something in the ‘mitti’ (soil) of the native place which makes one forget all the hardship of the life and smile for a while. Patna has changed a lot in last few years and has grown at a rapid pace busy catching up with other big cities – some would argue that it has lost its old charm but for me it still is my birthplace. As I stepped out of the station, the familiar ‘Mahavir Mandir’ and ‘Jama Masjid’ welcomed me along with their new companion – A Buddhist Stupa standing right across the street. Sun had started its march lazily from East. I quickly took an auto to my aunt’s place. My journey had not come to an end – I had to go to my ancestral place to celebrate the festivals. My parents and brother had already reached the village located in the district of Nalanda.

My aunt insisted that I stay at her place for at least a day but I was getting restless. After much persuasion she allowed me to go. It was already 4:30pm when I reached the bus stand. The two buses to the route were jam packed and I could only arrange a ride at the bus top (I admit I indulged in this illegal or rather non-legal activity but because of the upcoming elections most of the buses were grounded/requisitioned). Weather gods had decided to bring in winter early this year and so one could feel the embrace of early cold especially if he is sitting at the bus top and that too in the evening. I pulled out my sweatshirt from the bag and took its shelter. The ride was smooth unlike my previous visits. Whatever claim the state government has made of improved road conditions was quite visible. Fellow passengers sitting at the bus top (and there were quite a few) started singing a beautiful folk song – I had listened to the tune in the childhood but could not recall the words. I started humming along with them. There was an instant reconnect with my culture. The group suddenly switched to other song and I could again only recognize the tune. Nevertheless, I tried my best to lip-sync based on the tune. This journey was turning out to be unexpectedly pleasant. Sun had finally called the day off. Light was fading fast when suddenly the bus came to a grinding halt.

We initially thought that the bus had stopped to load or unload some passengers as was done before but when it did not move for a couple of minutes we started to become impatient. A few looked out to find a few people standing outside the bus. We could now hear the commotion below.

‘Kya hua bhai (What happened)?’ asked one of us.

‘There is some problem with Bus. We are looking into it.’, answered the conductor.

Even before the reply, people had started to disembark from the bus top. I followed.

‘Kitna time lagega (How much time will it take)?’

‘Keh nahi sakte (Can’t say).’ was the reply from the driver.

I checked my watch. It was close to 7pm. I enquired about the distance of my village from that place. It was still 8 km away.  Walking 8 km was out of question. With no sight of autos which used to ply on the route I decided for the bus to get back on the road.

‘Aur kitna samay lagega bhaiya (How much more time will it take)?’ I enquired the driver.

‘Ghanta bhar kam se kam. Mechanic ko phone kiye hain. Aata hi hoga (At least an hour. Have called a mechanic. He would be here soon)’, pat came the reply.

Meanwhile some people have decided to embark their remaining journey on foot. I called my father to inform him of the delay. My cousin was out on a trip on his bike and so a pickup could not be arranged.

‘I will try to see if I can get a ride to fetch you.’ he said.

‘No need. I will be there within a couple of hours.’

‘Election hone se gaadi ghoda ka thoda problem ho gaya hai (The problem of getting transport is due to election)’ quipped a fellow passenger.

I nodded. Another 20 minutes had passed and there was no sign of the mechanic. And suddenly I saw a glimmer of hope. The light from a headlight was breaking the reigns of the darkness around. The speed suggested that it was definitely not a bike. Finally the auto arrived where the bus stood without life. It was already overcrowded. It was not going all the way to my village but would have dropped me 3 km away from it. I hopped in along with a few more. It was a dangerous ride with so many people but fortunately nothing untoward happened till I was on it.

It was 8:10pm when the auto dropped me at the designated place. The driver gave me the directions to my village.

‘Do not listen to or take help from anyone in between. Go straight till you reach the crossing of your village. From there it should be easy.’ He said.

I smiled back. ‘Are criminals still out there?’

‘Not in this area. But ghosts are.’

‘Ghosts? Really!!’ I managed to show a broad smile but was not comfortable at the thought of walking alone on that stretch.

‘Be safe babu.’

It was dark with clouds covering the shine of the moon. I could see distant lights from rural households – probably from my village. I tried to call my parents but there was no signal. It was getting cold and I tucked in my hands in the pockets of my sweatshirt as I started the final lap of my journey. I had walked for a kilometer or so when a voice from back caught my attention.

 ‘O bhaiya!! O bhaiya!! Kahan jaa rahe ho (Where are you going)?’

I saw a silhouette of a man running towards me. I was both relieved and petrified at the same time. The parting words of the auto driver came back to haunt me. A part in me argued not to pay attention to such superstitions while other wanted to run away as far as possible. Sometimes your mind starts playing devious tricks on you especially when you are in doubt.

As the man approached me, he asked again ‘Where are you going?’

‘Sarai.’ I said.

‘Great. I am also going there.’ He had come a bit closer. I took out my mobile to see the face of man in its light (It was mostly of the fear of being trapped by a ghost and also because of my belief that ghosts, if they exist, are afraid of light). I recognized the face.

‘Bansi kaka’ I exclaimed. Bansi kaka was a very good friend of my uncle and I was both relieved and delighted to find him there.

‘Shekhar!! So, finally you have found time for us. How many years it has been?’

‘Five.’ I smiled sheepishly.

 ‘Chalo. Let’s take you to your place.’

I didn’t need that push anyhow. I again tried to call my parents so that they can be relieved but again there was no network signal. We started talking on a lot of issues. He was a fun man. He used to pamper me and my brother when we were kids by bringing us gifts. I remembered he had taught me a few tricks on carom. He had represented the state at national competitions.

‘So, when are you marrying?’ he asked.

‘Abhi time hai (there is still some time).’

‘Koi time wime nahi hai. Abhi bhaiya bhabi se baat karta hoon(Not at all. Let me talk to your parents).’ I smiled back.

We would have traversed another kilometer when Bansi kaka took a turn to follow a ‘pagdandi’ (a raised mud trail). I stopped midway.

‘What happened?’ he asked.

‘Our village is that way.’

‘This is a shortcut.’

‘I know. But I think we should take the main road.’ As a child I was always warned not to use this trail especially after the sun sets down.

‘What is playing in your mind beta?’

‘This trail goes through the haunted garden.’

He laughed hard at this. ‘You believe in all this? After being so highly educated, you still follow these superstitions. I am disappointed.’

Even I was feeling a bit ashamed on myself. However, the setting would make any rational person think twice about his / her belief. It was pitch dark apart from the light of my mobile which was guiding us, there was eerie silence apart from a few howls of owls and chill had set its foot on the accelerator.

‘What?’ he asked again.

I hesitated for a moment before joining him on the trail.

‘Feeling okay?’

‘A bit.’

‘Don’t worry. I am with you.’ I smiled at the reassurance.

‘Where is your uncle?’ I realized that he had not talked about his friend during all this time.

‘He will be coming tomorrow. Hadn’t he talked to you?’

‘No. We have not talked for quite some time.’ I noticed a certain edge in his voice. The tone disturbed me. Maybe they were having some personal problems of their own. The tree cover was thickening and it was increasingly becoming difficult to walk on the ‘pagdandi’ even with the light of mobile. Suddenly, there was a beep sound from it. The battery was dying.

‘Bansi kaka. Battery will not last long.’

‘Don’t worry. We are almost there.’

The light started to fade soon after and the phone died after some time.

‘What shall we do now?’ I panicked.

‘Do not worry. I know this place by heart. I can traverse it even with my closed eyes. Just follow my voice.’ This time the assurance was not enough. But I was left with no other option. After a couple of minutes, we could hear a distant commotion.

‘What’s that?’

‘I think people have started the celebrating.’

‘That doesn’t sound like celebration to me.’ I could not see a thing. My heart beat had created a new record and I could feel tiny little droplets playing on my forehead.

‘We will soon find out then. Another 5 minutes and we are there.’

‘Come along.’ The pitch of his voice was a bit different and appeared to be coming from a distance.

‘Bansi kaka. Wait for me.’

‘I am just ahead of you. Follow my voice.’ But this time again the voice appeared to be coming from a distance. The commotion had grown further. It appeared as if an army is marching for a raid. Terror struck me. I was petrified and my foot denied moving any further.

‘What happened?’

‘Why is your voice coming from a distance? And what is this commotion all about?’

‘Frankly I do not know what this commotion is all about. As far as my position is concerned, I am just ahead of you. Let me show you.’

I was expecting a hand to come out for me - instead a wave of cold air caressed my body sending chill down my spine.

‘I am here to guide you beta. You just need to take another leap’, came a voice out of nowhere and with that a strong gush of wind pushed me ahead. I fell for not more than a couple of seconds but it appeared to be eternity. I had bruised my hands and had a cut on my left thigh. Loud, terrifying laughs echoed the area. This mixed with the increasing intensity of commotion created a terrifying atmosphere. I was on the verge of tears. In my last ditch effort for survival, I cried for help. No one came. Suddenly there was silence for a moment before a rush of cold wind hit me on neck. I fainted.

I opened my eyes with my parents sitting by my side. Almost all my relatives were present.

‘What happened?’ I asked.

‘You should tell us what happened. We found you in a ditch in the middle of the haunted garden.’ said my brother. There was concern in his tone.    

I narrated the entire incident to them. Some shook head in disbelief. I could see tears in the eyes of my uncle. I certainly had been out for quite some time.

My grandfather finally explained though I had understood most of it. Bansi kaka had died in an accident almost a year back near the village. So, it appeared that I met with his spirit. ‘But why would he put me in danger?’ I asked.

No one had a clue. I looked at my uncle. His lips quivered. He wanted to say something but chose not to go ahead.

‘And what was that commotion all about?’

‘They were us. Ankit was coming back on his bicycle when he saw a guy taking that route. He didn’t know you were the guy. He didn’t have the courage to go after you and bring you back. I figured it out that such stupidity can only be expected from you.’ said my brother. 

‘He saw just one guy?’

‘Yes. But he said that the guy was talking to no one and hence suspected a ghost angle from the very beginning. I told him that you talk so much that you can even talk to air if no one listens to you.’ He winked at me.

‘I think we should let him rest now.’ my father said.

‘I think he should eat first.’ said my mother.

‘I am with Maa.’ Everyone smiled at my comment.

My brother started enacting like a news anchor ‘You have heard a very captivating story. It had high voltage drama, thrill and my favourite angle … horror. Before we leave we would request one last comment from Mr. Shekhar…’ with that he put an imaginary mike near my face.

‘I will never take that route again in my life.’ I said with a wry smile.