The Devil

It was getting dark. I quickened my pace as I strode along the woods. My home was a few miles away and the path ahead looked deserted. I was walking briskly when, all of a sudden, a short, rotund-looking man sprang out of the bushes. He looked scared and exhausted and his breath was heavy. It was evident that he had been running for quite some time. I stopped in my tracks and offered him water (I was carrying a water bottle). He drank hungrily and uttered a note of thanks. His breath became normal and he spoke, “I just saved myself from a devil. Had I not run away at a lightning speed, I would have been dead by now.” He was still panting slightly.

“Did you say, devil?” I enquired.

“Yes Yes. You do not believe me? You may find my story amusing, but I swear I just had an encounter with a diabolical spirit; a devil, to be more precise.”

“Now now, calm down, relax. And tell me what happened. I may be of some help to you,” I suggested mildly.

He was a small, portly man of about 40. He had large, bulging eyes and toothbrush moustache. There were only a few strands of hair in his nearly bald head.

“My name is Ratanlal,” he began. “I am a doctor by profession. I reside in the nearby village of Behrampur. You see, I had gone to the city to visit an ailing patient. Today, at around noon, I received a telephone call. It was an old lady on the line. She said she was feeling unwell and requested me to visit her. I noted down her address and hung up after assuring her that I would be on my way immediately. I boarded a bus that was heading for the city. An hour later, I was standing outside a shabby looking bungalow. It had a withered and old look. I pushed open the iron gates, crossed the garden and went inside.”

Ratanlal paused, apparently, to catch his breath. I offered him more water and some sweets which he gulped down hurriedly.

“Tell me, my friend. What happened after you entered the bungalow, “I asked.

“I entered the bungalow but there was no one in sight. My first impression was that it was deserted and I was nearly right for the lady was its only inhabitant. As I stepped inside, I heard someone cough. The voice was coming from the adjacent room. I pushed open the door and entered the room. It was small and dusty. There were cobwebs all over the wall and the paint had peeled off at several places. The old lady was lying on the bed, apparently, in great suffering. I sat down on a chair by her side and took out my stethoscope. I was examining her when suddenly, her eyes turned blood-red and sharp, pointed fangs began to appear on her mouth. I shrank back in horror and took to my heels. I scurried off to streets and hailed a cab. “Behrampur?,” I asked. The taxi driver nodded. I entered the taxi and was trying to catch my breath when the driver turned and faced me. He had blood-red eyes and was sprouting fangs. I shrieked in horror and forced myself out of the cab. I ran and ran and ran and bumped into a traffic police constable. He asked me, “Why are you running?” I told him, “I met a devil. I am running from the devil.” I was panting. He replied, “You can’t run away from the devil” and then, to my horror, the policeman grew fangs and his eyes became red. I screamed. But there was no one around whose assistance I could seek. So, I ran and ran and ran. I looked back to check if I was being followed, but, to my relief, I had left the devil behind. And then I ran again till I reached this place. I need to get back home as fast as possible. I will catch a bus back to Behrampur. I thank the Lord,” he looked up at the heavens, “that I am alive. I will never visit the city again. The village priest had warned me earlier not to visit this city. I should have listened to his advice,” he finished.

“The village priest had warned you?” I enquired.

“Yes yes, he had forewarned me that some harm may befall me if I lay foot on this city.”

“Then you are a fool. You should have paid heed to his words,” I shot back.

“Excuse me, I am an erudite physician with a degree in M.B.BS. Who are you to address me as a fool?”

“Didn’t you understand what the policeman said,” I whispered caressingly. Ratanlal stared at me. “You can’t run away from the devil,” I smiled. Ratanlal’s face wore a confused look and then it turned into that of horror, as my eyes changed colour and fangs grew up.

Room No. 28

“Could you please allot me a room, “Ashish enquired at the reception of Marigold hotel.

“Sorry Sir, all the rooms are booked, except room no. 28. But---“

“I would take that room.”

“But Sir, a young lad committed suicide in that room last month. We gave him the keys. Next morning, his body was discovered hanging limply from the ceiling fan. The youth of today are really---“

“I would take that room,” Ashish cut him short.

“But Sir, we generally don’t—“

“Give me the key,” said Ashish coolly.

The manager hesitated for a second before succumbing to his stern gaze. Ashish collected the key and trotted off confidently towards the elevator. Room No. 28 was on the 7^th floor.

Ashish was a tall man of about 23. He was lean, had broad shoulders and a sharp, pointed nose and was devastatingly handsome. Stepping out of the elevator, he took long, confident strides and approached room no. 28. He inserted the key and pulled open the door. Immediately, a cold breeze of freezing chill swept over him. He tugged at his overcoat and stepped inside. He switched on the lights. The room was slightly dusty. It was apparent that nobody had used the room in the past few days.

Ashish pulled out his shoes and collapsed on the bed. His eyes fell on the ceiling fan on which that young man had hanged himself. Ashish lit up a cigarette and blew a puff of thick smoke. He smoked for a few minutes during which he fantasized of a Hollywood actress. Finishing off his cigarette, he rose and undid his tie, throwing a casual glance at the mirror. And there, for a split second, he saw the reflection of a woman. He spun around. But there was no one behind him. He smiled at himself. ‘I am imagining stuff’- he told himself. ‘Maybe I need to cool my head under water.’ He unbuttoned his shirt, undid his trousers and stepped into the bathroom. He allowed himself the ecstasy of standing serenely under the shower. And then he heard a small tap on the door. He pulled open the door but there was no one. Perplexed, he shut the door back and continued his bath. He checked himself in the mirror and froze. Three words ‘I WANT YOU’ were etched on the mirror with red ink. Were these words there from the beginning? But why didn’t he notice them earlier!

‘Ashish, you are going crazy,’ said a voice from within. ‘You are just imagining stuff. Maybe you are tired and your mind needs rest.’ And then another hollow voice from within told him, ‘I have fallen in love with you. I want you. You must kill yourself so that we can unite. I want you dead, o my beloved! Kill yourself! Go, kill yourself! Kill yourself and walk into my arms. You must act fast for I can’t wait long. I need you. I want you. I love you. You must die so that we may unite. You must die. I want you. Megha wants you….’ His head began to spin. The scene before him dissolved. He shut his eyes. The picture of a beautiful, young lady took shape in his mind. She was smiling at him in a largely seductive manner. And then she beckoned him with a soft whisper…..

The manager knocked at the door in the morning. There was no answer. He pushed open the door. The naked body of Ashish was hanging limply from the ceiling fan.

The doll

I returned from office to find my 7-year old daughter playing with a new doll. She said she found it on the street lying abandoned. I casually told her off for picking stray things and dismissed the matter. Throwing a casual glance at it, I found that it was a male doll of about 10 inches. It had large bright blue eyes and a thick roundish nose. I didn’t pay further attention to the matter and soon got occupied with my work. That night, I woke up on hearing a sound. It appeared as if someone had sneezed. Both my wife and my daughter were fast asleep. The doll was clutched tightly in my daughter’s arms. I couldn’t fathom the mystery and went back to bed slightly puzzled.

The next morning, my wife was taken seriously ill. Her temperature rose to 105 degree Fahrenheit, and despite medical aid, her condition did not improve. By evening, her health deteriorated. By night, she was dead. My daughter wept over her mother’s body clutching the doll in her hands. I could do little to console the poor child.

A week passed in mourning. I and my daughter were left shattered by my wife’s death. However, I tried to recover and to spend more time with my daughter. It crossed my mind that she had become attached with the doll to the point of obsession. She hardly let it go and carried it in her arms all the time. Barely a month had passed since my wife’s death, when tragedy hit me again. My daughter was returning from school when her bus collided with a tree. Several people got injured in the accident and one of them died. It was my daughter.

Heart-broken and desolate, I began to spend most of my day inside the house. I hardly went out except for my office duty and went into a shell. Slowly, I sunk into depression and was forced to quit my job. One evening, I was lying morosely when my eyes fell on that doll which was kept in the showcase. It wore a mystical look and appeared to be smiling at my pitiable condition. In a fit of rage, I picked it up and threw it outside the window. I thought it was gone for good. But how wrong I was!

That night, as I was sleeping, I suddenly woke up on hearing someone cough. Both my wife and daughter were dead and I used to stay all alone. So, I was slightly flummoxed on hearing the sound. I looked around and saw the doll looking back at me from the showcase. How it got there I had no idea! But I could once again make out a sinister smile playing on its lips. I hated that doll for its wicked smile.

In the morning, I took the doll with me and drove far away into the outskirts of the city. There I dumped it into a garbage bin. At least, now I was free or so I thought. That night, as I was sleeping, I felt a choking sensation around my throat. I opened my eyes and got up with a start. I drank some water and looked around. It was back! The doll was sitting by my pillow smiling in a devilish way.

I had had enough. I immediately seized the doll, carried it into the kitchen, poured kerosene oil over it and set it aflame. I felt better as it burnt. I let it burn completely before I was satisfied. I went back to sleep and, after a long time, slept well. I woke up feeling completely fresh in the morning. Soon, I rejoined my office, remarried and was blessed with a daughter. Now, I have a caring wife and a beautiful daughter. All is well.  

Granny’s ghost

“Yesterday, I had a near heart attack when I saw my wife in the dark,” Vineet remarked jocularly.

“Haha. So, do you believe in ghosts,” asked his friend John.

“Nah, I don’t have time to believe in all these bullshit. I am more concerned about the vagaries of the stock market,” Vineet replied firmly.

“In that case, my friend, you would be surprised to know how many people claim to have supernatural encounters. My maid here tells me a fascinating experience that she had had with her previous employer. Let me call her. RADHA!-“

Radha appeared carrying a tray of tea and biscuits. John motioned her to sit down. She settled herself over the mat on the floor and looked enquiringly.

“This gentleman here does not believe in ghosts,” John told her lighting up a cigarette. “I want you to narrate to him the incident about which you had told me last evening.”

The maid hesitated a little and then plunged into her story. “Well Sir, before I was employed here, I used to serve another family in Calcutta. It was a family of three- Mr. Sharma, his wife and his daughter Sneha. This incident of which I speak happened soon after I joined service there. Mrs. Sharma, besides my household duties, had also entrusted me with the job of baby-sitting her daughter. Sneha was a quiet, little girl of about 10. I came to know, after joining, that Sneha was quite attached to her granny who died of gallbladder cancer only a month before they hired me. I never saw her granny (only the photo) but I soon realized that Sneha missed her thoroughly. She was a very reticent child and hardly spoke except when asked a question. I often found her weeping alone in her room clutching a photo of her granny. I felt for the poor child.”

There was a pause. Vineet sipped his tea through pursed lips and then enquired in a sarcastic tone, “Then what happened? Did your ghost make a dramatic appearance?”

“Yes Sir, I am coming to that. I vividly remember that night. It was raining,” Radha continued. “I used to sleep on the floor in Sneha’s bedroom. She used to sleep above on the bed. We were both fast asleep that night. And then, sometime, in the middle of the night, I woke up. I think it was the sound of thunderstorm that woke me up, but I felt the urge to use the bathroom. So I got up and went. After 5 minutes, I made my way back as quietly as possible so as not to disturb the sleeping girl. As I entered the room, I saw someone sitting by the girl’s side gently stroking her head. I couldn’t discern who or what it was for it was pretty dark. My first impression was that the child’s mother had come upstairs to be by her daughter’s side. But then there was a flash of lightning and in the light, I clearly saw her face. It was her granny. I had seen her photograph on numerous occasions. I shrieked. The apparition disappeared instantly. I narrated what I saw to the child’s parents but they played down the incident. They did not want their girl to suffer from any sort of anxiety or panic. I kept quiet on their insistence and did not tell the child what I saw. I let her understand that I shrieked as a result of a mouse running over my leg. But I swear Sir, I saw her granny. For a split second, our eyes met. She wore a sad and pitiable look,” Radha finished.

“Well, there you have it my friend,” said John to Vineet. “See, I told you lots of people claim to have seen a ghost. Here is an example right in front of you. Radha, you may go, “John dismissed the maid.

“Well, interesting though her story sounded, that might just have been a hallucination,” Vineet remarked, “Or a figment of her racy imagination. You never know with these young girls of today. I am still not convinced about this business. I refuse to believe in ghosts.”

“In that case, my friend, I propose that you take a tour of a graveyard tonight. It’s a challenge and I am ready to wager a thousand rupees. You have to pass the night all alone inside the graveyard. What say?”

“Challenge accepted,” Vineet coolly remarked.

As promised, Vineet spent the night in the local graveyard. His body was recovered the following morning. John shed a tear of sorrow and whispered to himself, “At least, he saw for himself, before he died, that ghosts do truly exist.”“Yesterday, I had a near heart attack when I saw my wife in the dark,” Vineet remarked jocularly.

“Haha. So, do you believe in ghosts,” asked his friend John.

“Nah, I don’t have time to believe in all these bullshit. I am more concerned about the vagaries of the stock market,” Vineet replied firmly.

“In that case, my friend, you would be surprised to know how many people claim to have supernatural encounters. My maid here tells me a fascinating experience that she had had with her previous employer. Let me call her. RADHA!-“

Radha appeared carrying a tray of tea and biscuits. John motioned her to sit down. She settled herself over the mat on the floor and looked enquiringly.

“This gentleman here does not believe in ghosts,” John told her lighting up a cigarette. “I want you to narrate to him the incident about which you had told me last evening.”

The maid hesitated a little and then plunged into her story. “Well Sir, before I was employed here, I used to serve another family in Calcutta. It was a family of three- Mr. Sharma, his wife and his daughter Sneha. This incident of which I speak happened soon after I joined service there. Mrs. Sharma, besides my household duties, had also entrusted me with the job of baby-sitting her daughter. Sneha was a quiet, little girl of about 10. I came to know, after joining, that Sneha was quite attached to her granny who died of gallbladder cancer only a month before they hired me. I never saw her granny (only the photo) but I soon realized that Sneha missed her thoroughly. She was a very reticent child and hardly spoke except when asked a question. I often found her weeping alone in her room clutching a photo of her granny. I felt for the poor child.”

There was a pause. Vineet sipped his tea through pursed lips and then enquired in a sarcastic tone, “Then what happened? Did your ghost make a dramatic appearance?”

“Yes Sir, I am coming to that. I vividly remember that night. It was raining,” Radha continued. “I used to sleep on the floor in Sneha’s bedroom. She used to sleep above on the bed. We were both fast asleep that night. And then, sometime, in the middle of the night, I woke up. I think it was the sound of thunderstorm that woke me up, but I felt the urge to use the bathroom. So I got up and went. After 5 minutes, I made my way back as quietly as possible so as not to disturb the sleeping girl. As I entered the room, I saw someone sitting by the girl’s side gently stroking her head. I couldn’t discern who or what it was for it was pretty dark. My first impression was that the child’s mother had come upstairs to be by her daughter’s side. But then there was a flash of lightning and in the light, I clearly saw her face. It was her granny. I had seen her photograph on numerous occasions. I shrieked. The apparition disappeared instantly. I narrated what I saw to the child’s parents but they played down the incident. They did not want their girl to suffer from any sort of anxiety or panic. I kept quiet on their insistence and did not tell the child what I saw. I let her understand that I shrieked as a result of a mouse running over my leg. But I swear Sir, I saw her granny. For a split second, our eyes met. She wore a sad and pitiable look,” Radha finished.

“Well, there you have it my friend,” said John to Vineet. “See, I told you lots of people claim to have seen a ghost. Here is an example right in front of you. Radha, you may go, “John dismissed the maid.

“Well, interesting though her story sounded, that might just have been a hallucination,” Vineet remarked, “Or a figment of her racy imagination. You never know with these young girls of today. I am still not convinced about this business. I refuse to believe in ghosts.”

“In that case, my friend, I propose that you take a tour of a graveyard tonight. It’s a challenge and I am ready to wager a thousand rupees. You have to pass the night all alone inside the graveyard. What say?”

“Challenge accepted,” Vineet coolly remarked.

As promised, Vineet spent the night in the local graveyard. His body was recovered the following morning. John shed a tear of sorrow and whispered to himself, “At least, he saw for himself, before he died, that ghosts do truly exist.”

Hostel

Ajay waved his parents goodbye as he boarded the bus. His summer holidays had come to an end and he was heading back to hostel. His hostel was in Chennai which was a few hundred miles away from his home.

“Travel safely. Give us a call the moment you reach,” his mother yelled as he waved her from the window. The engine gave a roar and the bus lurched ahead heading to Chennai where his dull hostel life awaited him. ‘I wish I didn’t have to go to that boring hostel,’- Ajay thought morosely, ‘I would swap it for any other place in the world.’

It was late evening and darkness was becoming stronger. Ajay could vaguely make out a few stars twinkling in the smoky sky as he peered out of his window. The bus was now heading to a deserted stretch of rocky road. The trees outside looked dark & creepy as they hurried past him. Cool breeze was slapping across his face giving him relief from the sultry weather. He fidgeted with his phone to kill the time. His co-passengers were sitting lazily looking wearied and drowsy. Ajay stifled a yawn. His eyes were drooping…… He was taking down notes dictated by Ravinder Sir. Ravinder Sir bent down and yelled, “What are you writing, Ajay? ‘I DON’T WANT TO GO TO HOSTEL’?” Ajay looked up and saw the same words etched on the blackboard. He argued, “But Sir, you have written, ‘I don’t want to go to hostel’ on the blackboard.” His teacher slapped him hard. The sound of the slap rang in his ears…. There was a sound of the horn blowing and Ajay woke up with a start. Cool breeze met his face sending spasms of ecstasy all over his body. The driver pressed the horn and accelerated the bus.

It had started to drizzle. There was a deep cliff on the right side of the road which appeared frightening in the dark. Ajay began to hum a tune to cheer himself up. The prospect of going back to hostel had made him, somewhat, glum. And then there was a sudden jerk and the bus lurched over. It slipped over the wet grounds and began to slide down the cliff at an alarming pace. There was a bang and Ajay’s head slammed into the window. Thick glass pierced his skull and he lost consciousness. It was some time later that he came round. He looked around. The bus had come to a standstill and all the passengers were lying unconscious. Ajay felt his face and found that it was splattered in blood. Slowly, he rose from his seat and climbed down the bus.

Moon was shining brightly over the sky. Everything was still and quiet except the occasional wailing of the wind. He surveyed his surroundings. There was a dense jungle on either side of the road and there was not a soul in sight….except one smoky figure which was walking towards him. The figure moved closer and closer and as its face came into view, Ajay realized with a jolt of recognition that it was his friend Krishna….. But then, it couldn’t be…..

“So, your wish got fulfilled. You don’t have to go to the hostel anymore,” Krishna spoke. There was a radiant aura around him and he was smiling serenely.

“Krishna….You here…but you are dead…you died in a car accident last month,” Ajay look bewildered. A wolf howled somewhere in the distance.

“Yes dear, I am dead,” said Krishna with a smile, “…..and so are you.”

Rashee

Rashee curled up on the bed with a copy of ‘An Interview with a Vampire’. Down in the hallway, the grandfather clock was ticking hastily now showing 1:30 am. Night was crawling silently and Rashee was deeply engrossed in the novel. ‘The vampire rose from the grave…’ she read ‘and sniffed at the air. He could smell blood. There was a prey somewhere nearby and he must hunt it down.’

Inadvertently, Rashee pressed her nose against the book and felt a jerk in her navel. With a shock, she found herself falling head first into the deep crevices of the pages. Darkness and silence swooped down upon her. She blinked and found herself standing in a still graveyard. Everything looked still and serene. There was not a soul in sight. Rashee shuddered. Perplexed and apprehensive, she fished out her cell phone from the pocket of her jeans and hurriedly dialed her husband’s number,

“Sujal, I am feeling scared. I don’t know how I arrived at this place. I am surrounded with graves. Please come quickly.”            

“Rashee, you try to find your way out. I am coming,” her husband uttered some words of assurance before the line got disconnected.         

Rashee replaced her phone back in her jeans and began to take tentative steps in the darkness. There was a fresh breeze and clouds drifted away revealing the refulgent moon. In the ghostly moonlight, Rashee inspected her surroundings. There were graves all around and the path was strewn with pebbles. And then she heard something. She turned and saw a figure rising from one of the graves. The moon shone upon its face and Rashee felt a hint of recognition. The figure stood up and began to walk clumsily towards her. Rashee could hardly move a muscle and waited with breathless anticipation.

The figure moved closer and with a jolt of excitement, Rashee realized it was her husband Sujal. Panic and fear took possession of her and Rashee found herself standing rooted to the spot. Sujal moved closer still. There was a deep cut mark across one of his eyes and his face looked battered and grotesque. To her horror, Rashee saw him sprouting fangs as he moved closer still. And before she knew, he was upon her and had dug his bare fangs into her inviting neck. Hot blood gushed out of her neck and she screamed and woke up with a start.

She blinked and found herself in her bed. The copy of ‘An Interview with a Vampire’ was lying on her stomach. Her husband was sleeping serenely by her side. She breathed a sigh of relief. It was only a dream. She had evidently fallen asleep while reading.  She felt a tinge of pain and looked into the mirror. There were deep teeth marks on her neck and warm blood was oozing out of it.    




                                 

Tell me Your Dreams

Am I correct in presuming that everyone of you sleep at some part of the day? And as everyone is entitled to dream, I presume everyone of you must be having a favourite dream or two. Dreams can be really weird, that’s the beauty of a dream. One day, or rather one night, I had dreamt that Lord Voldemort (the Harry Potter villain) was boarding a taxi. He was wearing keys around his ears and those keys had got something to do with his Horcruxes.

A friend of mine called Mickey too has some weird dreams to share. She once dreamt that film actor Shahrukh Khan came to her house to do potty. Now that’s really funny. Imagine a billionaire movie star knocking at her your humble doors to relieve himself!

On yet another occasion, this friend of mine Mickey dreamt that she was brushing her teeth. The only weird thing about it was that she pulled out her head clutching at her hair with her hands, brushed her teeth and then put her head back over her neck.

I’m sure you too must have a weird dream or two to share. So, put your hand on your keyboard and tell me your dreams! 

The Road Not Taken

This tale dates back to the fall of 1983. It was the twilight hours of October 14^th when I found myself driving through the outskirts of Leicester district. Sun was sinking with a sense of urgency and darkness was taking over fast. The path ahead looked deserted as I drove through the tranquil clearings. I had never been to this part of the town which was fairly new & unfamiliar to me.

I was driving a bit recklessly immersed in my own thoughts, when suddenly a figure appeared before my speeding car. I slammed the break just in time and avoided a collision. The old lady hurried over by my side and shrieked, “Don’t go this way. I warn you. We do not take this road. Go away. Go away….”

I must admit that I was slightly flummoxed by her sudden, screamy warning but I wasn’t the one to pay heed to an old lunatic. The road ahead looked perfectly serene and inviting. Besides, I am strongly against prejudices and superstitious beliefs. Her warning propelled me to take the road with an added vigour. I pressed the accelerator and steered the car forward. I could still faintly hear her screams and wailings behind me.

Darkness was descending fast now and there was no sign of any lamppost nearby. I switched on the car’s headlight and began to drive slowly cutting through the darkness. It was a narrow road. In the faint light, I could discern thick growth of bushes on both sides. And then suddenly, my car gave a roar and came to a halt. I tried the engine again and again but the car moved no more. I got out of the car and surveyed my surroundings. The entire area was bathed in darkness and silhouetted by the outline of tall, creepy trees. It was certainly not the best place for breakdown of a car.

I was wondering what to do next, when I heard a faint voice. I couldn’t figure out the source of the voice but I was almost certain that I just heard someone calling my name. I paused and listened hard. And then again, I heard it. A very faint whisper, it seemed as if the rustling leaves were murmuring my name. And then I heard someone move. Even in that pitch black darkness, I could discern a pale white smoky figure walking towards me.

“Who is there,” I cried, an edge of anxiety in my voice. But the figure did not speak. It continued to move towards me. I was rooted to the spot with my brows wet with sweat. And then, as the figure came nearer, I saw its face. It was the most horrendous, most grotesque face I had ever seen. I screamed. My screams reverberated and seemed to echo in my own ears. And then darkness and silence swooped over me. My body was found the following morning. Post mortem revealed death due to heart failure. 

Those haunting eyes

Those eyes of the poor girl
Know how to haunt my mind
Her parched lips open tentatively
As if curious to question her existence
Or complain to Almighty for her abysmal fate
Her wind-swept hair- silky and charming
Seem to lure bad omen
Her untidy hands and thin legs
Script the tale of a pitiful life
Alone and secluded from society
She leads a vagrant life
No mother, no father, it's a tale of love lost
Tear is her destiny whether summer or frost

One night at 1 am

The storm outside refused to die down. A streak of lightning pierced the sky accompanied by a roar of thunder. It must be around 1 am and Neha was fast asleep. She was a 28-year old single woman who lived all alone. All of a sudden, she woke up as if awoken by an invisible hand. There was something wrong in the air. She sniffed and got a nauseating smell as if a decomposing body was rotting somewhere. She got up. Wind was howling outside with the ferocity of an express train.

And then she heard it. It was a barely audible sound but it seemed as if someone was crying. Neha concentrated hard on the sound. There was a pregnant pause and then she heard it again. It was an unmistakable sound of someone weeping silently. Confused and tentative, Neha scanned the house but could not identify the source of the sound. It seemed to be emanating from thin air. And then with a suddenness, somebody rattled at her door. Shaken, Neha asked the question, “Who is it”? But there was no reply. Was it just the wind playing games with her? And then once again, there was a sharp knock. Who could it be at this hour of the night?  She mustered courage, approached the door and pulled it open. It opened with a creak. The sky outside lit up with a flash of lightning. But she saw no one. Perhaps, it was just the wind!

Neha came inside and bolted the door. As she turned, she froze in horror. There was someone sitting on her bed. It was a woman with dark, long hair covering her face. She was weeping. Neha’s heart began to pound. “Who is it,” she heard herself saying. Her voice was barely recognizable in fear. The woman turned and Neha screeched in fear. She saw her own replica looking back at her with tearful eyes. It was wearing the same dress as Neha and uncannily resembled her.

“Look, what you have done to yourself,” the woman shot her an accusatory look. Neha looked down on the bed and saw, to her horror, a third woman lying on the bed, still and dead. A bottle of sleeping pills was clutched tightly on her dead fingers. It was Neha and she had committed suicide.

Love on Yahoo Messenger

Year 2052: Nine year old Cheeky shot an inquisitive question. “Granny, how did you and grandpa meet the first time. Was it a love marriage or an arrange marriage? Tell na please..”

Cheeky’s granny held his gaze and got forlorn in far-away thoughts…..

Year 2012: Two random people, complete strangers to each other bump into each other on Yahoo Messenger:

Stranger 1: Hi

Stranger 2: Hi

Stranger 1: Asl please?

Stranger 2: 26 f india

Stranger 1: Hi, I am Chiraag. 27 m India.

Stranger 2: Hi Chiraag. I am Shreya. Where you from?

Stranger 1: Delhi. You?

Stranger 2: Me too from Delhi

“Granny, what are you thinking. Tell na please how did you and grandpa meet?” Cheeky interrupted her thoughts. .

“Oh well dear…. I don’t remember too well,” the 70-year old granny smiled vaguely.  

A cock and bull story

It was evening and darkness was descending fast. Kritika felt her heart pounding fast. She was in an unfamiliar territory and had lost her way. She vaguely recollected her mother’s parting words, “Don’t stray away from the group.” She had come for a picnic to the Rajarhat woods with her college friends. It was a place far away from her home. She shuddered as a wolf howled somewhere deep in the forest. She had gone astray in search of a spring to quench her thirst and was unable to trace her way back. How she wished she had paid heed to her mom’s advice.

Suddenly, there was a thunderous roar of lightning and she found panic taking possession of her. There was no trace of a person in the vicinity and her hopes of reaching back to her group were fading out fast with each unstable footstep that she took. She felt nervous and scared. After all, she was barely 15 years of age. She let a tear escape from her eyes and began to pray feverishly. And then she saw a boy looking at her from behind the bushes. Perturbed, she crossed the bushes and approached him silently. There was a lake on this side of the bush and the boy was standing right on its edge. He was all about 7-8 years and was staring unblinkingly at her. Kritika tentatively asked, “Do you live here?” The boy nodded in consent. Kritika continued, “I have lost my way. Can you help me find my friends. There are 5 of them. They must be somewhere on the edge of the forest.” The boy stood his ground without uttering a word. And then suddenly, he clutched her hands and began to lead the way. He seemed to know the forest quite well for he was confident and brisk in his strides.

After walking for about 20 minutes, Kritika felt the forest getting thinner. Suddenly, she heard someone singing. A young girl of about 10 was playing nearby. Kritika shot an enquiring look at the boy. But to her amazement, found herself staring at the thin air. The boy had certainly disappeared somewhere. Feeling confused and apprehensive, she approached the young girl and asked, “Hello. Did you see the small boy who was standing here with me? He just-“

“That boy who had a cut mark in his left eye?”

“Yes Yes. Do you know him.”

“O Yes. That boy is dead. He drowned in the lake over there.” (she pointed in that direction).

“What a cock and bull story. He just showed me the way. I got lost and I need to look for my friends.”

“O yes Kritika didi. Your friends are there (she pointed with her tiny finger over the hedge). They are looking for you and are anxious.”

Kritika uttered a quick thanks and hurried over towards her friends. She hugged Parvati (her best friend) and cried on her shoulders. And then a weird thought struck her. How did that young girl know her name!

“Kritika, do you know what that forest guard was telling us,” Parvati went on. “He told us a cock and bull story that a boy and his sister drowned in that lake over there and that their ghosts haunt this forest. As if we would believe in all this ghostly bullshit.”

Kritika stared at her. There was a far-away look in her eyes and she heard herself saying, “Oh, what a cock and bull story.”

How a Bengali nerd prepares for school exams

I happen to know a lot of nerds being a nerd myself (oh just kidding)! If one comes across some of these Bengali nerds then one will be really taken aback by the interesting lifestyle they lead. Interesting not for them but to an outside observer. For instance, if you happen to observe a Bengali geek preparing for his exams, you will surely be amused by the way his nose almost seems to be kissing the pages.

The day before a big exam, our protagonist (the Bengali nerd) will place himself over the bed as if he is sitting on a throne. Then he will surround himself with pillows and heaps of books (and in that order of priority). Next moment, he will lose himself completely amidst the pages and notes he has religiously prepared throughout his academic year. At that moment, he will show a fabulous ability to sit without twitching even a muscle reminding you of some devout Yogi performing a ‘kathor tapasya’. The only thing showing some sign of life will be the lips where you will notice a sort of fervent, feverish muttering going on constantly. Time will fly and the boy would have moved not a muscle. 1 hour….2 hours…3 hours. Bang! Dinner time!

The mother approaches (like a stealthy cat making sure not to make a sound lest her son gets disturbed) with a tray of food, sits beside him and spoonfeeds him. The son will not abort his position of study but will simply turn his face towards her spoon to get fed in between his mutterings & murmurs. After the dinner is done, mom will dutifully wipe his face with water and a napkin. He would continue boring his eyes into the books with his heart pounding fast now that time is slipping by. As the clock would inch towards midnight, he will begin to sway on the spot (sitting but swaying wildly) like a tentative leaf.

He would continue to study for as long as it’s possible (he would even suppress the urge to go to bathroom until he has confidently memorized the answer). After realizing late at night that it’s time to sleep, he will camp then and there. He shall prepare a makeshift bed for himself amidst the books and lie down surrounded by books like a VIP surrounded by body guards.

His mutterings will continue in his sleep. It seems that he will sleep in order to study in his dreams and you would be able to make out his murmurs & mutterings even in sleep. A few hours later, he will wake up even before the crows. Now that the exam is only a few hours away, he will be positively alarmed and will virtually tremble with nervousness. Fear will take possession of him like some cunning devil inhabiting his mind and heart completely. Everytime he will forget a line (or a word) he would positively panic and bury his whole head into the books.  

Soon, his doting mom would come to his rescue to help him calm his nerves. But instead of soothing his nerves, she will incite them further by performing all sorts of rituals. He will be made to eat ‘prasad’ and his mom will smear his forehead with vermillion and other forms of ‘teeka’ taken from God’s feet. He will be sent to bath during which he will constantly revise and re-revise his whole syllabus. Once he is bathed, fed and watered, his mom will tie religious threads all around his neck like a master ties a chain around his dog before going for an important journey. The mom will herself show some signs of panic and will cling to him throughout the journey to school. She will even hold his school bag for him and allow him to revise in complete comfort. Once inside the school, the nerdy boy will somehow calm down now that the battle is about to begin. But his mom will become completely unsettled and panicky and would wait for him outside the school while he writes his paper.

Once the boy is through his exam, his mom would virtually fetch him from his classroom; then force some food into his protesting mouth and then make him relive his entire exam-hours to the minutest detail. After he is through giving her the entire description of the paper to her complete satisfaction, she will take him home….ready for yet another day of studying….for yet another paper.