Tag Archive: Ghosts


I never knew I had the courage to do this..Write about something that haunts me..This was a brush with the unknown..Something that made believe not to screw around with the forces of the other world and that some places are not meant to be visited or even remotely tried to be found again..Somethings better lay at peace..Somethings better be..This story involves a few friends..They do not want to be named..They shall not be..They were there with me and this is our secret..So be it..

Youth..The times when life’s carefree and there are no worries..No fear of the future, nothing at all..We were wandering free birds, newly gotten our mean machines, read our bikes and being the youngsters we were, we would head out on Saturday Nights to explore places. In and around the city, roaming like free birds in the name of nightouts we had gone and explored a various number of places..Various eating joints, Various places where we could sit for hours ordering just a cutting cup of tea and laugh and cry without being hushed about and made to leave our table..But we also did discover a haunted place..A place and an experience that still haunt us..will haunt us..Forever..

We rode out into the night..The six of us, three bikes and a night full of adventure waiting for us. We took to the highway, the wind in our hair, the laughter on the road resounding around us and not looking back one bit..I wish we had, Because if we did, we would have made a choice and then it wouldn’t have happened. And I would not have been writing this.

We sped along, getting off the highway on to a road leading somewhere, none of us were afraid, just enjoying the ride in the night and each other’s company. We weren’t looking where we were going and where we were headed..Just following the road.Maybe the company of your friends does you that. Having them around you gives you a sense of uplifting and knowing that having them around you. Maybe that’s why we survived.That’s why we got out of that place..

Like I said we rode off the highway, onto a dusty track, my friend leading the way saying he knew of a place to go and sit around. We followed. We always did. Anyone would do. But what he didn’t say that he’d lost the way..He didn’t say he didn’t know where we were going..And we didn’t question him..

The night and it’s surroundings got better of us, the talks died down, and the howling winds made our arms tug deeper into ourselves. The lights and the civilizations were left far behind as our headlights pierced the pitch black darkness that surrounded and engulfed us. The fears growing when around the path I saw that there were hardly any plantations growing, half cut crops swayed in the breeze, the moonlight glowing upon them.

The figures of a few houses drew up close as we headed to the end of the road. We got off, and at that exact moment, a cry rain through the air, the cry if a cat, somewhere we could not see. My heart skipped a beat and my friends nervously stared at each other. We didn’t what to do for sometime, rooted to the spot. The darkness engulfed us again. The moonlight not helping.

Finally we did get ourselves under control, and regrouped. I looked around, seeing three huts and a single brick house, the only one with a door, and it was shut. One of my friends realized that it was unnaturally quiet for a dwelling place. He was right. There was a pin drop silence except for the rustling of the leaves. We should have left then, but the young blood, the urge that anything can be taken on drove us to go and look inside the houses. Only later did we realize that somethings in this world cannot be taken on. Nor are they meant to be.

We split into groups of two. Four of us headed to the huts and two headed to the brick house. The huts were to the right and the brick house to the left and our bikes behind us. I walked to the hut, peeking around, trying to look inside and trying to figure out what was on the inside, when I realized the hut had no door. I beckoned to my friend and went inside. He was right behind me, and what we say..froze our blood.

Inside the hut, were clothes strewn around, just thrown there, the utensils half overturned and left. It looked as if someone had left the place in a hurry, and in the moonlight I saw a rag doll, looking straight at the door.

I half expected it to get up and walk towards us or offer us a sinister smile but it didn’t. My friend looked around and we both were scared, our heart beats rising and we went out and were headed to our bikes where my other two friends stood, beckoning them to start the bikes and get out of that place. We didn’t notice the other two friends who were at the brick house, and we turned around when one of them let out a cry.

I ran, as fast as I could and say one of them had fallen down, and the other one was trying to get him to stand up and move. I rushed into help, the man on the floor pointing towards something. And then I saw. The red hand print. The human hand print on the half closed door of the house. The red, the blood, still flowing down on the door..Running, still fresh..and all I could do was freeze.

An arm jerked me to my senses and we ran to our bikes and quickly powered them up and sped off. Just drove, nobody talked, still shivering, still reliving the moment. And I looked back as we sped away, and I know I say a black cat, it’s eyes shining and just staring at us.

Epilogue:

We went back to our friend’s and just sat there till wee hours in the morning. We’v never talked about it and that certainly brought an end to our late night outings. I did talk to him, the friend who fell down and pointed that hand print out of me. This is what he said had happened.

” You guys went to the huts and I and T were still skeptical about going in. He insisted that we should get a look. I went first, he was behind me. The door was a two door and both had to be shut to be locked. Both of them were open. I swung the right side in and T was behind me. We stepped inside and just then, the left side swung shut, itself. T rushed first opening the door and just stood there, horrified. I ran into him and we both fell, he got up and then I saw that. The hand print. Blood all over, and I swear it was fresh blood, because it was still oozing down from the print. I was stunned and T was trying to get me up. I don’t know what would have happened if we were a little inside but I don’t know how the door was shut by itself”

I don’t know myself how the print was on the outer part of the door, but whatever it was, it was sign.. A sign that somethings in life shouldn’t be messed around with. Mortals are not meant to.

Spirits, Ghosts and Evil Beings. We all know about them and speak of them with an impending sense of fear and awe. There are powerful things existing in this world that we are not aware of. Things that roam in the night and it might a fickle of imagination for the human mind or there may be actually something unknown. We always fear what we do not understand..And maybe somethings are not meant to understood or to be screwed around with. They are just meant to be feared and respected. I was a non-believer, until it happened to me. I have never shared this anyone except a few people close to me and I’ve had a few experiences so far. This one nearly got me killed. Maybe I was there at the wrong moment, at the wrong place and at the wrong time..But I lived to tell the tale..

The bus full of happy people returning from the picnic was a joy to watch. There were a few sad faces as this was the last trip that we would be having as we were passing out in a few months. The last three days had been a blast. Good times in fact. Graduation is always fun, and the Students Association Picnics were a treat for us. The ramblings from Udaipur had taken us quite a wee few hours to get home and it was around 2 a.m. that the bus landed at my college. The flurry of goodbyes and good nights and see you tomorrow had happened before I realized that I did not have my vehicle. None of my friends were going in the directions my home was and yet I being the person that I am, refused to let them take trouble on my behalf. I told them I’d find a rickshaw or just walk down to my place. I also didn’t want to call up my dad as I did not want to wake him up from his sleep, knowing that he was a light sleeper. So I slung the bag over my shoulder and started walking. My home was a good 3.5-4 kilometers away from my home and I had planned to find a rickshaw near the bridge that I had to climb to get across. There was a graveyard at the end of the bridge but I was taking my chances.

Walking on I realized how silent and deathly quiet the world was around me, the only solace being that there were people sleeping the pavements of the bridge, yet not a single vehicle or a soul which was awake was around me. I tugged my jacket closer, trying to keep the thoughts of impending doom out of my mind, which is a human tendency to happen when you know you’re alone. And how wrong I was.

The graveyard approached at the side of the road, I cast a nervous eye over it. Nothing stirred..But my heart still raced. I quickened my feet and the sight of a police van on the other side of the road, and I could breathe easy for sometime alteast. They did not stop by me, nor did they even glance in my direction, but I made it through the patch of the road. I headed on towards my home. All alone now. The stretch of road going as far as the eye could see, and now not a single living soul to be seen.

We Indians believe in funny superstitions. We say one should not eat or speak words relating to “Come” or so at crossroads as we believe in the fact that somehow spirits reside in those areas and saying something like that shall invite them with us. Well I passed a major crossroad, near a circle that branched out into four roads. It was again an uneasy feeling as I suddenly remembered that one major accident had taken place at the circle itself which had resulted in a man’s on the spot death, a few months ago around the same time..

Steeling my nerves I turned into the lane that would take me home. My blood ran cold as I suddenly realized that there was not a single lamp post lit on the whole road. Instincts took over, the rush of fear washing over my body, but I had nowhere to go. I could not go back to the circle and take the longer route home. I calmed myself and started walking silently praying.

The street dogs looked up from their midnight scrapping for food and looked up at me. Their presence was uplifting, as there were five of them, standing together huddled. I called out to them, beckoning them with my hand, holding an imaginary piece of morsel in front of them. I suddenly felt my spirits lift for one of them came towards me, wagging it’s tail..And then it happened.

Two of the dogs, whom I had passed and they were behind me let out a growl. A, low and ferocious growl. I turned to see what they were growling at and I saw them, barring their teeth at something behind me. I whipped around to see that there was not a single living soul on the whole breath of the road behind me. I swallowed a lump in my throat, and saw the dog nearest to me was now, growling at me. One of the dogs behind me yelped, and suddenly they all ran. Away from me..And it came.

Firstly, I lost control of my legs. How much ever I tried, I could not move them. It was as if I was paralyzed from the waist down. It was like someone had cemented my feet to the road. The air around me suddenly got chilly. My breathing started getting heavy, it was something was trying to constrict me.The wind got knocked out of me and despite the jacket zipped up to my neck, I felt a constriction on it. It was light, but firm. I was getting a bit delusional, the feeling on my neck growing as if something had my neck in it’s grip.

I’m an atheist. The religion that was given to follow when I came into the world was Jainism. Maybe I’ve never found my god in our Derasars (Temples), and I was/am not a firm believer of God and his ways, but my mother insists that I wear a Red sting with a small bag on top which is known as RakshaPotli..Essentially meaning the sacred thread of protection. And so just to appease my mother, I still wear one to this day.

I was about to pass out, the black out about to happen, when my left hand touched upon my right hand, landing right on the thread. As soon as my hand touched that, I heard a loud scream from behind me, right in my ear and I fell forward, gasping for air. Maybe it was good luck or fate that half falling, half running I made it to a small roadside temple that was at the side of the road. Still delusional, I remember seeing a figure, walking towards me and then vanishing.

For two hours,till the sun rose, I sat there..In front of the temple. Only when the daily activities had started and I was given the creepy looks by the milkman, did I find the courage to get up and walk down home. The night replayed for me all over again and again. I told no one what had happened. Even I was not sure if it happened or not, but when I took off my jacket, there were the marks on my neck. A thumb impression to the right and four fingers to the left.

Epilogue:

I do not know what happened or why it happened or who did it. I did not have the courage to go about finding about it. There have been numerous times that I’ve passed through the same road, but never again have I seen the figure or felt the same ever again. It’s not something that I’m proud of to have lived and survived to tell the tale. I have grown a fear of the unknown. My hands are still shaking as I type, but I have survived it. Maybe I shall sleep peacefully tonight as an upper being looks over me, or shall lie awake as a creature from the other world watches me?

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