Much water has flown through the Ganges since I last visited my village Neura. A not so small hamlet in the hinterland, it echoed the old world charm then. I have heard that it has finally caught the ‘growth’ bandwagon and now boasts of good roads, a railway station and even a small cinema hall!! Back in late 90s, it was what we call the ‘backward area’. And yet somehow there was a distinct charm about that place. It was a fairyland to me – large gardens of mangoes and litchis in the backyard; vast expanse of green and a beautiful stream crisscrossing the village. Though the electricity would remain mostly elusive, I never felt even slightly bothered (and today, I desist to stay without her for a moment). I would go there every vacation to spend time with my grandparents and uncle – my father had moved to the state capital quite early to make his career.
The incident I am going to narrate took place during a Durga Puja vacation. Puja used to be celebrated with much fervor in our village. In fact, our family used to host the biggest Puja of the neighbouring areas. People, even from the nearby villages, used to flock to our Puja Pandal throughout the Puja period. My grandfather was an influential & respected man and a great devotee of Maa Durga - he would bring in artisans from Kolkata to erect pandals which matched the grandeur of those in the cities. Puja was thus the most important festival for the entire family – each member would come to celebrate the same at Neura. It was a mandatory get together for our family.
That year, as always, I was eagerly waiting to attend the Puja at Neura. Grandfather had promised that the Puja would not only be bigger but also unique – I was excited at the prospect of seeing something new. Neura is at a distance of 120 km from the state capital – considering the deplorable condition of roads (during that time) we preferred train despite the fact that the nearest station was 20 km away. My mother had already a few days back to assist in the preparation of the Puja. My father and I were to board the train on the day of Mahapanchmi. However, as the fate would have it, my father had to stay back for some work. I was not willing to stay for one more day – thus, an arrangement was made in which I would travel by train and my grandfather would pick me up from the Railway station.
I have always loved traveling by train – somehow it gives me a sense of connecting with the ‘mitti’ of the place. My father had given me a lecture on ‘caution’ and literally provided me with a list of ‘Dos’ & ‘Donts’ – all for a short journey of 100 km. The journey however was uneventful. As the train pulled up at the railway station, my eyes frantically searched for my grandfather. Not finding him I decided to get down as the train did not use to stop there for long. Once on platform, I met the station master who was looking for me. He hailed from our village and was a very affable man. ‘Your grandfather called us. The car has developed some snag. He is not far off and will be here within an hour. Why don’t you stay here till then? I will join you shortly.’
I could not do much. It was a small station with little amenities. I sat on a bench watching the station master. He was busy instructing some people while moving towards the overbridge to platform 2. The platform was left with very few people when suddenly a group of ‘aghoris’ arrived at the station. I was dead with fright. ‘Aghoris’ were believed to practice ‘dark magic’. We were always cautioned by the elders to stay away from them. It was believed that their activities heightened during the Puja period as the period was conducive for them – they would usually perform their rituals in cremation ground to seek power from the ‘dead’. I looked around for the station master but could not find him. Suddenly an aghori looked at me and smiled. I froze - I was petrified to the extent that I could have died with heart attack. Though the aghori did not make any move, I was frantically praying for a godly intervention. And it did happen - I spotted Birju Kaka. His little son Natthu was tagging along with him. ‘Hey Birju kaka’ I called him. He looked in my direction, saw me and wore that extremely likeable smile on his face. Birju kaka was from our village only and was well known to our family. I was relieved.
‘How are you kiddo? Where is Bhaiya?’
‘I am fine. Father had some work and hence could not come today. He will be here tomorrow.’ He sensed my fright – more so, because I was looking at the ‘aghori toli’. The same aghori was eyeing me suspiciously.
‘What’s the matter?’ he asked.
‘Nothing. I am glad to see you. What are you doing here?’
‘Seeing off a relative.’ He smiled. ‘Whom are you waiting for?’
‘Grandfather was supposed to pick me up. But his car developed some snag in route. He will be here within an hour.’
‘Why wait for an hour? I am going back home. Come along with me. I’ll drop you there.’
I was relieved at the thought of moving away from the aghoris. However, station master had asked me to stay. I searched for him again. I spotted on Platform 2. Birju kaka asked – ‘What?’
‘Master kaka had asked me to stay here. I think I should inform him.’
‘Don’t worry. We will reach your grandfather in no time. After all we have Chetak with us.’ He had named in bicycle ‘Chetak’. I smiled. I looked at Natthu – Strangely he was quiet throughout which was unlike him. He used to be very naughty but I missed the glint in his eyes that day.
‘What has happened to him? He seems quiet.’ I asked.
‘Nothing. Has just recovered from illness and hence is not in his usual self.’
‘Oh!!’ I said caressing the hair of Natthu.
‘Shall we go?’ he asked.
I again looked for the station master. He was not in his previous position. My eyes looked for him at other places but could not locate him. Then they darted towards the aghoris and now many were looking at me with wide eyes. I was petrified. I instantly said – ‘okay’. We left the station on ‘Chetak’. Natthu was sitting on the front rod while I was on the carrier.
As usual the roads were in deplorable condition but Birju kaka negotiated them with ease ensuring minimum discomfort for us. The sun had almost completed its journey and was retiring. The horizon was painted in crimson and I could feel a little chill in the air. We crossed a few pandals which were made aesthetically. The atmosphere was soaked in the Puja revelry. I could barely hide my excitement of seeing our Puja pandal. Birju kaka started humming a famous folk song – I could barely recall the words but hummed along with him.
‘You were quite brave today.’ He said after a while.
‘Brave!! Me?’
‘Yes – the way you remained calm in front of those aghoris. Many adults would have flustered in their presence but not you. I am proud of you.’ I smiled.
Slowly darkness engulfed the entire area. Birju kaka switched on the light attached to his bicycle – such lights were quite popular in those days. I could not make much sense of the way now – he was taking a few shortcuts to return back to the main road. The traffic was sparse. We had travelled significant distance but could not find my grandfather or his car.
‘Have we missed them in one of the shortcuts you have taken?’ I asked Birju kaka.
‘I doubt it.’ I was expecting some explanation but none came. I had started to grow a bit apprehensive when he took another shortcut.
‘I think we should stick to the main road or we would miss them.’ I said.
‘This one is the last. We would stick to the main road after this.’ He promised.
There was some kind of eeriness (which I cannot explain) in the surroundings. Tall trees canopied the area – ‘Chetak’’s light was the only thing fighting darkness. It seemed we were moving into a forest when I heard the sound of a stream. As we approached it, Birju kaka stopped Chetak and the dynamo running the light. I could see some lights at a distance across the stream – they seemed to be coming from ‘mashals’. As my adjusted to the darkness, I could sense the width of the stream. The rainy season had ended over a month back but the stream appeared swollen – the distance between the two ends would have been roughly 100 feet.
‘We need to cross the stream.’ Birju kaka said.
I was afraid. I did not know swimming and the expanse of the stream was petrifying especially in the night. Further, I did not understand the need to cross the river.
‘Wouldn’t it be better to stay with the main road?’
‘As I said, this one is the last shortcut.’ There was a certain edge in his voice.
‘But I do not know how to swim.’ I offered a meek protest.
‘Do not worry. The stream is not so deep here. I will carry both you and Natthu across and then will bring Chetak too.’ I looked at Natthu – he was standing at the edge of stream staring to the lights from across the stream.
I did not want to cross the stream but had little option – the creepiness of the surroundings was getting on my nerves. Birju kaka took me and Natthu on each of his two shoulders and moved into the water. With a height of well over 6 feet and a body sculpted in the local ‘akharas’, he was quite capable of carrying us across the stream. As he moved forward, the cold water touched my feet sending shivers to my body. I could feel his grip tightening on my body perhaps to protect me from the mild current of the water. As we moved a few feet ahead, I started feeling numb. Suddenly there was a commotion nearby. This sudden break in the silence caught me off-guard – I stiffened.
‘What’s that?’ I asked. Strangely, while I was terrified, Natthu carried the same ‘off-written’ look without any signs of emotions.
‘Nothing. The sound is coming from nearby cremation ground - Perhaps some aghoris carrying out their rituals.’ Birju kaka said it nonchalantly but I could have died with that revelation. There was a sudden rise in the chillness of the air probably because of the stream and yet I began to sweat.
‘I am frightened.’ I cried.
‘Don’t worry. It will end soon.’ As he said this, he jolted me into the water – I could feel myself gripped by a few pairs of hand trying to drown. Shocked I looked at Birju kaka. He stood in the middle of the stream with Natthu on one of his shoulders. Their eyes glowed with red colour.
I was on the verge of death when I heard the screeching of car tyres and then the thunder of my grandfather’s voice – ‘Birju!!’
Suddenly the grip on me relaxed a bit. Birju kaka turned to face my grandfather. I could see my rescue party in the light of the car – my grandfather and uncle were there along with the driver and the same aghori who was eyeing me at the station.
‘Leave Chhotu or things could go bad.’ He warned.
‘Ha ha ha ha!!’ Birju kaka’s laughter sent me into a tizzy as I was pulled down again. ‘I am already dead…’ I could not hear the next words as I went completely inside the water. I could not breathe – I struggled to get myself out of the grip of those hands but failed. I was a few moments away from death when suddenly the grip loosened on me and I resurfaced. My eyes caught a horrifying sight – the form of both Birju kaka and Natthu decaying. That was the last thing I remember before losing consciousness.
As I woke up, I found myself surrounded by the entire clan. Father was also there indicating that either I was out for long or he had taken the bus route to reach home. I had understood most of the things and grandfather filled me with other details – ‘Birju came under the influence of black magic. He even took the life of his wife and son as an offering to dark powers. However, he was caught and brought before us for justice. The panchayat decided on a death sentence and I approved the same. He tried to take your life as revenge. I am sorry for what happened to you.’ His voice trailed off and for the first time in my life I saw tears in my grandfather’s eyes.
But I had my own questions which were unanswered – ‘If he was a ghost then how could he carry me or even ride a bicycle?’
‘There are certain methods in which a ghost could do such things but you are too young for that.’ I had not noticed the ‘aghori’ (of the station) before in the gathering. He was smiling at me.
‘And how did you find me?’ I asked grandfather. He looked at the aghori.
‘I saw you talking to the air and also felt the presence of some unruly spirits but before I could intervene you were gone. I did not know so didn’t pay much attention to your disappearance. But when I came to know that you are the grandchild of Thakur saab I used my powers to track you.’ The aghori said with a smile.
I had some other questions but my mother put a stop to it asking me to rest. The Puja that year was the most memorable one for me – the grandfather had kept his promise of making an extraordinary pandal. I visited Neura a few times later as well but my parents and grandfather decided that it would be safe for me to stay away from the village. It has been 15 years since I last visited Neura but that incident had kept haunting me till now as well.
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