The Ghost account

 

Atmosphere was humid, the clouds thundering, the alley filled with mud, stench coming out from the overflowing gutters, the croaking of frogs,  clanking of beetles or crickets, raindrops drumming on the roofs and pinging the nearby trees and the intermittent lightening, all were making the ambiance extremely unpleasant and fearful. Anyone new to this type of environment will easily loose his sleep, and will be quite uncomfortable, but we, being born and brought up in the village environment, were seasoned of all these, and all seemed well and normal as it was of  little or no concern for us. Development of basic amenities and infrastructure was in its childhood then and had not penetrated to the remotest villages. The absence of electricity was making the night even darker and awful.        

It was the year 1984, if I precisely remember, and I was 9 years old then. Rainy season was at its peak-as it happens in mid-July every year in India.

Being youngest in a joint family, brings little boon and more trouble, as the youngers had to follow orders of their elders. The elders turned a ‘Babu’, when ordering their youngsters, and the youngsters were expected a total compliance to the orders without fail, either willingly, or from fear of spanking and chiding. And fortunately or unfortunately I was the youngest. 

Our family was a formidable one in my village with a good area for farming. In the farming season four-five workers were added to the herd of two permanent retinues, thus making it seven. The farms were first tilled, then levelled and then left alone waiting for the rains. When there was a heavy rain and levelled fields resembled the floods the plantation of paddy crop would start. This process was carried out to the farthest places from the village first, and nearer towards the end of the rainy season. Work on a paddy field, 3-4 Km. away was in full flow, and as per the Indian customs, the employers were to provide food to their workers. An order came from my grandfather that the food for the labourers working in the field was ready. Although, he called the name of the eldest of my cousins, it ultimately landed on my shoulders. And I being the youngest, was left with no option, but to go to the fields, barefooted (due to mud on the path) and all alone, as everyone else was either sleeping or preparing for it, I being busy going through a storybook in the faint light of the lantern, kept in the niche to rescue it from the raging air, was caught upfront.

My father was out of station since 3 days, and when this was the case, I was more like a retinue than the youngest child of my family, because everyone in the house was giving orders. That day it was raining Cats and Dogs, and the scheduled time of giving food to the workers, had already elapsed. But, just after 10 PM, the rain reduced its ferocity to some extent and situation was rife for a walk down the fields. Having had the orders, I started preparing for the visit to the field where the plantation work was underway, as I had no choice; either obeying the orders or getting the handsome spanking and scolding from the elders; and the mere thought of castigation sent eddy currents down my nerves. No one even pitied or cared to give me a torch, as there was a faint moonlight available for walking, and all assumed it to be wise not to take the metallic torch in the rains(from fear of rusting or malfunctioning). The rains reduced its ferocity within quarter of an hour, but was still drizzling, -- the Moon playing Hide and seek with the clouds,-- I don’t know with whom, because everyone was either fast asleep or preparing for it,-- and no one was in a mood of a recreation(I can’t tell about the Lovers).

Moti, the faithful dog of my family, recently been fathered of 4 puppies and his mate after her recent whelping, was always busy and cosy looking after the puppies along with him. Benevolence being my innate property I quashed the idea of taking Moti with me. So, I walked stealthily towards the fields with the food, in the incessant drizzling.

Our home was on the west-end side of the village. Where the dwellings ended, there was a mango orchard. And beyond the orchard, there were fields, fields and fields only, all filled with the rainwater.

I continued my stroll, with the ode of the God Hanumana on my lips. The full Moon continuing its ‘hide and seek’ in the clouds and the light drizzle moistening the air, the croaking of the frogs in multitude of pitches making the ambience more frightful.

After crossing a small bamboo patch I came across the small canal and a knoll after that. After crossing the knoll, I noticed a man walking at a leisurely gait, some 100 yards before me. It gave me some respite, as I didn’t feel alone now.

I continued walking, and was in a hurry to reach my destination.

I sounded twice or thrice-“O bhaiya, please stop, I’ll be with you,". But no reply came, and the man walking in front of me kept on walking. I increased my pace to go along with him. But to my dismay, the man also increased his and I could not cover the distance between us.

Then, crossing the deluged fields there came the reservoir. The man-made reservoir was used for watering the farms in case of no rain or water in the canals. My path was through the embankments of the reservoir. I lumbered through it. The man, walking ahead of me, changed its course and headed the other way, and I kept my walk on mine. Then I turned to inquire where the man had advanced, but was surprised to notice his disappearance. Although it gave me shivers, my destination was not far, so, the fear subsided. As the presence of dacoits or thief’s in the area was mostly feared then, I presumed it to be either of them.

I handed over the food stuff to one of my elder brothers supervising the plantation process there, rested a while, and after answering the question -"was there any problem?" I returned in negation and said “everything is OK, and I have no problem”.

The man puzzle still lingering in my mind.  After covering a considerable distance, I climbed the reservoir embankment once again in my return. After walking for half kilometres, and during my descend, I noticed the same man walking in front me, at the same distance, matching my pace. Then suddenly all my hair were up and I started shivering on the fear of a dacoit or a thief or an unknown, as in the Moonlight, I was able to see something glistening in his hand, and I assumed it to be a knife or so. I called once more, without getting any reply. I suddenly started running to catch hold of him to cover the remaining distance in his company. But, alas! He remained at the same distance as before. A call to stop and wait for me was again unanswered, and I was sure it was something unknown. Then I started uttering the Lord Hanumana’s song more loudly. Then I trotted past the second mound and the small canal. I hurried past the bamboo patch within 2-3 minutes. As the pathway was wet and slippery due to incessant rain, I tumbled several times unhurt, as the earth was wet and soft. I didn’t care to the mud on my body and cloths, as the fear of the unknown was more frightening than the mud. After crossing the Bamboo patches, I fell down once again, and it gave a second’s purchase to the man walking, and the man changed his course, towards the fields-the other way. I hesitatingly looked behind, but the man was no more. But, it was no fear for me now, because the orchard was very near and the dim light coming out from a lantern hung in the verandah in the nearest cottage was enough to give me inner strength.. When I entered the orchard, I was heaving heavily. When I crossed the first cottage just by the end of the orchard, Devendra’s father was still sitting on his charpoy and the lantern was still on but dimmed. He immediately noticed my gasping, and asked-“was anything wrong?”

“I saw a man, half nude with a weapon in his hand, in the path after the bamboo patch,” I returned in a hurry.

“It was a Buda-the good ‘Goblin’ then, and many people have seen it,” he replied.

“But, don’t worry! Till date I haven’t heard of him doing any harm to anyone,”  he told restfully.

“He was a labourer of our village, long ago and drowned himself while crossing the reservoir, and his soul wanders there,” he continued.

“But, from the next time, don’t go alone and do take either Moti, or anyone else with you, as the ghost is not seen when the dog or anyone else is with you,” he advised me.

               That night, I narrated the incident to my grandfather (in his late eighties). And even he confirmed to have seen the ghost, and have heard about the ghost from his father.

That night I went to bed, after having two chapattis with the cow’s milk, with the fear, joy and excitement of seeing a good goblin. And even after 25 years, the incident still lingers in my mind, still afresh.