Preeti, Santosh, and Ashok at their great grandpa’s place for the summer break. Great Grandpa was, after all, the kids’ favorite. He was gazing at a portrait on the wall. The man in the portrait was his father.
Santosh and Ashok walked in just then. They sat around Great Grandpa as he began speaking.
’76 years ago…’
Santosh intervened, ‘Wait, is it a story?’
‘Hush!’ said Preeti. ‘Else he won’t tell you.’
‘I was only ten at the time,’ Grandpa continued. He gazed at the photograph. ‘My uncle’s 2-year-old child had just died. Back then, people lived in big, traditional joint families. My father was the village chief. Every year, our family held a puja for Goddess Kali, praying for our health and continued prosperity. Since we were mourning the child’s demise, we didn’t perform the puja that year.’
‘One night, our servant, Govind, rushed home panting for breath. He said he had heard the jingling of anklets, but hadn’t seen anyone. He told us that this had happened near the Kali temple.’
‘My father convinced him that it was just his imagination. The next day, we heard that Govind had passed away. Rumors of ghost-sighting couldn’t be ruled out. Some people even claimed to have spotted the silhouette of a woman in a white sari, while others had only heard the anklets. A few others had even heard the ghost sing! There were also people who said they had heard a woman talk to herself and laugh hysterically. People thronged my father’s house in dozens. They wanted him to perform the Kali puja. They were of the opinion that the village folk had incurred the wrath of the Goddess, so a puja was the only way to placate Her.’
‘Everything changed. Mothers wouldn’t let their children out. The men were afraid to venture out of their homes. Farmers were petrified of the ghost. Its mere mention would send a chill down their spine. Their land remained unattended. Food was becoming scarce. The villagers went to sleep immediately after sunset. A deadly silence descended upon the village after nightfall. Some people even migrated to nearby towns in fear. We were all stupefied. It was crazy. My father was puzzled. In fact, he was ashamed of the villagers.’
‘Days passed. The young men in the village would say things like, “Kali knows us very well. She knows we have a valid reason for not conducting the puja this year.” They went about their usual work.’
‘One day, the villagers scampered to our house. They said that they had heard the ghost laugh hysterically. They claimed it was a woman, whose contour of a white sari had been visible in the moonlight from a distance.’
‘Father was aghast. He decided that he needed to conduct the puja no matter what.’
‘He asked us to disregard the mourning period and begin preparations for the puja. The women of the house agreed. Father, however, was still curious. He was determined to unearth the truth.’
‘Four of my brothers, my cousin, and Father braced themselves for a midnight rendezvous with the ghost. They packed rice and dal, palm-leaf mats, and lanterns. They left after an elaborate prayer. The women of the house were extremely worried. They prayed for their menfolk’s safe return. I prayed for the long life of my brothers, cousins, and father. My father suggested I join them.’
‘We sat down under a banyan tree. After a prolonged silence, we heard a woman talking to herself. All of us lit our lanterns. However, my brother couldn’t light his. He blamed it on the ghost. My cousin asked him to bring the wick up so it would burn steadily. And it did!’
‘All of us were sweating profusely. Would the ghost kill us? Or would it capture us? All sorts of morbid thoughts were wreaking havoc on our hearts. What if we never made it back home? By this point, we were all trembling. Our legs felt wobbly and our feet had gone numb. This was, after all, our first-ever encounter with a ghost!’
‘We walked in the direction of the voice. My eldest brother, Shakti, thrust the lantern into my hand and began walking ahead of the group. Soon, we lost sight of him in the dark of the night. We could hear his footsteps, though. We suddenly heard him yell, “So, it was you!”‘
‘All of us started walking even faster. Father raised his lantern to face the two forms. The ghost in the white sari stood still, staring at the flickering lantern. The pleats of her white sari swayed vigorously in the wind.’
‘It was Shanta! She was struggling to free herself from Shakti’s hold. Shanta had been forcibly married off by her uncle. She had been widowed a year after her marriage. Her husband and one-year-old child had died within a year due to some illness. Shanta never recovered from this trauma. She wandered the village, searching for her husband and child, who she thought were lost.’
‘Next morning, we took Shanta home. She stayed with us forever. I still remember my mother’s tears when she saw us return,’ concluded Grandpa.
What a spellbinding story it had turned out to be! It took Preeti, Santosh, and Ashok a while to completely wrap their heads around it.
As fond of writing a good story as he is of reading one, Pravin is one of the most promising writers at Ameya. He can be contacted at pravinkumar2788@gmail.com.