Raju, a tenth-grade student at Sundar Higher Secondary, had just finished his board exams and couldn’t wait for the summer holidays to begin. His plan was to visit Nakundi, a quiet village where his grandfather lived alone in a farmhouse surrounded by fields. With his friends Ali, Swami, and Bhola joining him, it promised to be an unforgettable break.
After a cheerful three-hour bus ride, the boys were met by Ramnath, Grandpa’s loyal servant, who greeted them warmly at the Nakundi bus stop. They piled into a tonga and trotted through the muddy village roads, chatting all the way. Ramnath revealed that Grandpa had been unwell recently, but the news of Raju’s visit had brought him back to his cheerful self.
As they arrived at the bungalow, Grandpa was already at the gate, arms wide open, grinning with excitement. ‘How come you never visited me for so long?’ he teased, pulling Raju into a tight hug. Raju introduced his friends, and Grandpa welcomed them like family. The house buzzed with laughter, stories, and the promise of a carefree village summer.
That night after dinner, Swami suggested a walk to help digest their food. Grandpa readily agreed but insisted Ramnath accompany them. As they wandered through the dark, unlit village paths, Ramnath hesitated before sharing a spooky tale. ‘There’s a ghost, Sir,’ he said solemnly, ‘a woman in white. She appears near the west side of the bungalow every night, and people hear anklets in the dark.’
‘A ghost?’ the boys echoed, half-intrigued and half-skeptical. Ramnath explained that a woman had hung herself from a tree nearby just six months ago — and ever since, the sightings had begun. The boys were wide-eyed. A village ghost story right in their backyard? It sounded straight out of one of their short stories collection!
Later that night, Raju couldn’t sleep. He wasn’t sure if he believed in ghosts, but the mystery gnawed at him. He woke up his friends and proposed they investigate the matter, like the Hardy Boys in The Ghost at Skeleton Rock. Swami and Bhola were excited. Ali, not so much. But Swami’s silly ghost-banishing “mantra” eventually convinced him.
At 11:30 PM, the four boys crept toward the west side of the bungalow. Ali clutched a bead from the local mosque for protection. They walked past haystacks, their shadows long under the moonlight. Suddenly, they spotted something — a white figure moving on one of the stacks.
Each boy saw something different. Raju thought it was a man pulling tricks. Bhola guessed it was a glowing animal skeleton. Swami believed it was the ghost hanging from the tree. Ali, trembling, muttered the ridiculous desert chant Swami had taught him.
Then came the sound of bells — soft at first, then growing louder. Their feet froze. Faces went pale. The “ghost” was approaching.
And then, they all saw it clearly — and burst out laughing.
The ghost of Nakundi was none other than Grandpa’s white ox, grazing peacefully under the moonlight. The bells tied around its neck had created the eerie sounds that had terrified the village for weeks.
The next morning, the boys shared their discovery with Grandpa, who roared with laughter. Apparently, the ox was never tied up at night, and the unbolted shed door allowed it to roam freely — unintentionally becoming the star of a funny ghost story that would now be retold with even more flair.
So, the village ghost story that once haunted Nakundi ended not with a scream, but with laughter and friendship. And though the villagers may still whisper about the woman in white, Raju and his friends now knew the truth — sometimes, all it takes to unravel a mystery is a flashlight, some courage, and a whole lot of imagination.
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.