It was a lazy Sunday morning during the chilly winter of Delhi, way back in 1958. Ranjit was busy
reading the newspaper and sipping tea in his beautiful apartment when there was a knock on his door.
Checking his wristwatch, he wondered who could have arrived so early on a Sunday morning. He
opened the wooden door and was pleasantly surprised see that it was his cousin, Mukesh, who had
come to pay him a visit.
“Arre, bhai sahab, aap? Please come in,” he said, inviting Mukesh into his house.
“Arre wah!” remarked Mukesh on seeing his cousin Ranjit open the door himself despite having many
orderlies working in the house.
“Have you eaten breakfast?” asked Ranjit with a smile on his face.
“Nahin, bhai. When I was coming to your house, why should I have eaten and come?” joked
Mukesh, for it was well known that Ranjit was a great host.
Acknowledging his guest’s compliment with a smile, Ranjit called out to his cook and asked him to
prepare breakfast for the two of them.
Ranjit and Mukesh both came from influential and affluent backgrounds and it was due to their vast
knowledge on various subjects that the two of them had a great rapport despite a 20-year age
difference between them.
Ranjit had an uncanny ability to read people’s faces and he could make out that there was
something troubling his cousin, Mukesh.
Once they had finished breakfast, they settled down in the cozy study over a cup of coffee.
“So, bhai sahab, tell me, what is troubling you?” Ranjit asked.
Mukesh was a little surprised but after a brief pause, he said in a low voice, “Ranjit, do you
remember our old mansion located atop the hill on Camel’s Back Road in Mussoorie?”
Ranjit had a good memory and almost immediately responded. “Well, yes, of course, I remember that
house. What about it?”
“I am planning to sell it off,” replied the elder cousin, much to Ranjit’s surprise.
“But why?” asked Ranjit, still trying to fathom as to why someone would want to sell off a property
as beautiful as the Mathur Villa.
The questioned seemed to make Mukesh slightly uncomfortable. He fidgeted before finally revealing
his reasons. “To tell you the truth, Ranjit, the mansion has become a white elephant for me. We
hardly visit the place once a year, but its upkeep and maintenance expenses are creating quite a big
hole in my pocket,” he replied, his face twitching.
“Hmm... have you found any buyers?” Ranjit asked.
“Well, as a matter of fact, I have found a buyer who is more than willing to purchase the Mathur
Villa. He is a foreigner, an Englishman, but has lived all his life in India. It seems that he couldn’t
quite get over his love for this country once the British left India. He wants to spend his last days in
the peace and tranquility of the hills of Mussoorie with his children and grandchildren. They seem to
be a friendly family and are more than willing to settle the deal on my terms and conditions,”
informed Mukesh.
“Well, it seems you’ve hit a jackpot, elder brother. So, how much are you planning to sell it off
for? Trust you have no problems in disclosing the amount to me?” probed Ranjit.
“Don’t be silly, Ranjit. Of course, I can tell you. You are family,” said Mukesh while gulping down
the water from his glass. “I am planning to sell it for 30 lakhs!”
“Thirty lakhs! Holy cow! That is certainly a lot!” exclaimed Ranjit on hearing the amount, as 30 lakh
rupees, in those days, was no small amount.
“Yes! And I need you to accompany me to Mussoorie when I go to sign the deal,” revealed
Mukesh.
“Me? Why me? I mean, I can definitely come if you want me to, but why don’t you take your son or
any other family member?” enquired a slightly surprised Ranjit.
“Yes, I can do that, but the truth is that I need someone intelligent, who can ensure that there is
nothing amiss with either the deal or with the person signing it. You are my first choice,” Mukesh
said with a pleading look on his face.
“Alright, I’ll definitely accompany you. When do we have to leave?” he asked.
“Next week. We shall leave early morning on Saturday and shall return by Sunday evening,”
informed Mukesh.
“Next week? Bhai sahab, do you realize it would be absolutely freezing in Mussoorie during the
last week of December?” cautioned Ranjit.
“I know Ranjit...I know. And frankly, if I had my way, I would have postponed this meeting. But
the problem is that this gentleman, whose name is Dirk Englebert, is planning to leave for England
soon and wants to acquire the rights of the place before the year ends as he wants to give this mansion
to his family as a New Year gift.”
“And since you get an off only on weekends... Saturday is the perfect day for signing the deal,
right?” concluded Ranjit. “Alright then, bhai sahab. We leave for Mussoorie next week,” he
declared with a smile.
***
It was the 27t h of December when Mukesh and Ranjit left at dawn for the serene hills of Mussoorie
in the latter’s car. Driving at a reasonably good speed, the two men crossed Dehradun and reached
Mussoorie in a good 6-8 hours after commencing their journey from Delhi.
As Ranjit got out of his car, his eyes looked at the Mathur Villa, the awe-inspiring multistoried
mansion of the colonial era that towered above everything else in the vicinity with its huge iron gates
followed by a sprawling green lawn which was partially covered by snow on all sides at that time of
the year.
“My goodness! This place hasn’t changed one bit since I last came here. It was overwhelming back
then and is overwhelming even now,” commented Ranjit with a smile of admiration on his face. He
had last visited the mansion as a ten-year-old kid, almost ten years ago.
Mukesh smiled and entered the premises even as the orderlies welcomed them at the gate, which
opened with a slow and shrill creaking sound. Ranjit looked back to take a look at the gate when he
saw an orderly staring at him strangely.
The mansion was huge and sprawling, with red carpeting all over the place. Portraits of the ancestors
of the Mathur lineage were hung on the wooden walls of the house and a fireplace kept the house
warm from the cold outside. Huge glass windows provided an ideal view of the snow-clad
mountains.
“Why don’t you retire to your room and change before Mr. Englebert arrives,” suggested Mukesh.
“Good idea. So, which one is my room?” asked Ranjit.
“It’s the first one to your left as you reach the first floor,” Mukesh informed him while instructing
an orderly to carry Ranjit’s luggage up to his room.
As Ranjit ascended the flight of stairs, the sound of his boots on the wooden flooring created an eerie
sound inside the mansion. Ranjit noticed the sound that his boots made as also the strange and uneasy
calm that seemed to pervade the mansion.
Entering his room, he was greeted by a tiger’s head hanging on the wall of his bedroom as a hunting
trophy. Apart from this unsettling view, the room was tastefully done up with wooden flooring, a
fireplace, an attached bathroom and a spacious balcony just outside a huge glass window.
Barely had Ranjit taken a hot-water bath and was getting ready, when he was informed of Mr.
Englebert’s arrival by one of the orderlies. Without further ado, Ranjit hurried to meet Englebert and
assist his cousin in his decision-making.
As he descended the stairs, he saw his cousin seated with an old, rotund, and partially bald
Englishman with grey hair and long sideburns.
“Oh, here he comes,” stated Mukesh on seeing his cousin descend the staircase, and introduced him to
the Englishman, who was sipping on his cup of steaming hot tea. “Mr. Englebert, this is my cousin,
Mr. Ranjit Bahadur Mathur, who has accompanied from Delhi.”.
The rest of the meeting went off smoothly with Englebert agreeing to all the terms and conditions and
not negotiating or bargaining too much. Soon, the documents were brought out and signed by the
respective parties. Ranjit couldn’t find a fault with either the documents or the Englishmen’s
character.
“Congratulations, Mr. Englebert. You are now officially the owner of this mansion,” Mukesh
congratulated the Englishman with a big smile and a firm shake of the hands.
The three of them then sat down to lunch and Mukesh elaborated on his further plans. “Mr. Englebert,
I shall be vacating the premises in the course of the next few days as it would not be possible to do so
all at once. Meanwhile, my staff will remain here until your arrival to keep the place clean and
operational. Mr. Englebert, the two of us will be leaving tomorrow morning and since, now you are
legally the new owner of the place, it is my duty to request your permission for staying the night
over,” he stated courteously.
“Oh, come on, dear. Don’t be so formal. You can use this place as you like till I return,” said
Englebert, wiping his mouth with a napkin and getting up to leave. “You shall have to excuse me,
gentlemen, for I have a flight to catch from Dehradun in a couple of hours and I must reach in time
for it. I shall be back in the second week of January, so you can vacate the house at your convenience.
I have had the most wonderful time signing this deal and interacting with you two gentlemen. Thank
you for your hospitality and courtesy,” he added.
With the deal successfully signed between the parties and due payments made to Mukesh, Ranjit
congratulated his cousin on his success. Mukesh hugged his cousin and thanked him for his support.
“Thank you so much, dear brother. You have been of immense help. I am sure that you must be
extremely tired after the day’s journey and thus I suggest that both of us retire to our rooms and catch
up on our sleep before we have a quiet celebration in the evening,” suggested Mukesh with a
relaxed look on his face, after which both the men retired to their respective rooms.
***
It was eight in the evening when the two men sat in the garden around a log fire to have a quiet
celebration. Dressed in their overcoats with mufflers wrapped around their necks, both of them were
enjoying the snacks prepared by the orderlies and having a drink together even as mist and fog
seemed to engulf the hills.
Ranjit looked at the road below, which was completely deserted. Mukesh noticed the pensive look
on Ranjit’s face and asked him what was troubling him.
“Nothing, really. Seeing such a lonely and deserted surrounding just makes it the perfect setting for
a ghostly tale,” commented Ranjit nonchalantly.
What Ranjit had said in jest seemed to have had a deep impact on Mukesh. Taking a sip of his drink,
he asked. “Did Jagjit uncle ever mention his experience with the paranormal to you?” asked
Mukesh, referring to Ranjit’s father.
“Well, I did not have the good fortune as my elder brothers of sharing a rapport with my father. He
passed away when I was only two,” sighed Ranjit.
“Pardon me, dear brother! I completely forgot about this tragic fact. I happened to ask since all of us
know about his paranormal experiences,” Mukesh apologized.
“Don’t bother, bhai sahab. What I missed hearing from him, I can always hear from you. I would
rather see it as an opportunity to hear an episode from the life of my father, of which I know so little,”
said the young Ranjit.
“Alright then. Keep in mind the fact that each and everything that I tell you in this story is an
undeniable fact and has taken place in the presence of a few people who would still be willing to
testify to those nightmarish incidents. I shall slightly modify the names of the characters so that you do
not have any preconceived notions about the people I mention in this story, if you have ever met them,
that is,” stated Mukesh.
The weather, the setting, the ambience, and the mood was perfect for a spine-chilling ghostly tale and
Ranjit was more than willing to hear of it. The two men sat all alone in the middle of the lawn, far
away from any living person and, but for the bonfire, were surrounded by omnipresent darkness. As
winds started to blow and the fog thickened, Mukesh began his tale.
“The story I recount to you is a one actually witnessed by one of your father’s extremely close
friends who we, for the sake of convenience, shall call Madan Tiwari. The tale is set in the early
part of the 1920s and it had an everlasting effect on your father. This gentleman, Madan, was a highly
successful individual and possessed an extremely huge and spacious house which was three stories
high. Now, you’ve got to imagine how the houses in the early part of the 1920s were — big,
spacious, huge, and multistoried, with lots of stairs and surrounded by broad, clean, and deserted
roads,” added Mukesh while creating a haunting imagery.
“One would think that a man so rich and successful would be jovial and full of happiness. But
anyone who thought so was highly mistaken. For inside the four walls of his house, a terrible tragedy
was taking place that was kept secret from the outside world. Madan’s son, whom we shall call
Ravi, was unwell with an undiagnosed ailment and there was something terribly wrong with him in
other ways too.
“The young lad was virtually on his deathbed, having been continuously bedridden for the past one
year. Once a healthy and normal looking teenager, Ravi, now, looked worse than a pale shadow of his
former self. Not only had he lost a great deal of weight, which made each and every bone in his body
visible from under his skin, but his skin color had also changed color. And he hardly ever ate
anything.
“But in the midst of all this pain and suffering, a strange occurrence used to take place. Ravi, who
could barely even walk without the help and support of his family members, used to suddenly throw
his razaai or duvet aside with some force and hop across to his room’s window and sit on the
windowsill. And when I say sit on the windowsill, I mean not by resting his buttocks as people
generally do, but by resting his feet on them in the posture of a chicken, as soon as the clock struck
12 at midnight.”
It was at this point that Ranjit, who was listening to the story with great interest, felt the chill quite
literally, as a wave of cold air brushed past him. Mukesh noticed the first signs of fear on his cousin’s
face, but knowing that Ranjit was eager to know more, he continued.
“But to be honest, the ordeal wasn’t over. For, as soon as he sat on the reasonably big windowsill of
his room, he would turn his face—just his face and not his body—a good 180 degrees and give a
piercing look to anyone who sat in the room and soon, an ominous smile would appear on his face,
after which he would jump out of the window! And did I forget to mention that his room was on the
third floor of the haveli?”
“From the third floor? Didn’t he seriously injure himself in the process, bhai sahab?” asked
Ranjit, even as goose-bumps began to appear all over his body.
“Strange are the stories of men, my brother. And in such strange stories, there always lies… a twist in
the tale! The most abnormal fact of this entire eerie phenomenon was that this boy never fell or
injured himself, for he always landed on his haunches, like a cat. I mean, if you or I were to jump
from the third floor of a building, we would obviously land on our knees, head, shoulders, and
injure ourselves or even die due to the severity of the fall. But not this boy. His jumps were perfect to
the hilt and never ever did he lose his balance in the fall. Jumping straight from the third floor of the
mansion into the garden, he always landed on all fours.
“It was almost as if someone other than him had control over his own body and was controlling his
movements. I say this because… just as soon as he would land, he would look back at his room’s
window and smile in the same demonic manner as he would do after turning his head at 180
degrees. Then, all of a sudden, he would lose consciousness and had to be carried back to his bed.
“And it was at this point in time that Seth Madan Lal Tiwari, who was by now physically and
mentally exhausted by these daily happenings, decided to call his best friend and your father, Jagjit,
for some emotional support and guidance. Tiwari had been unable to pay attention to his business due
to the deteriorating health of his son and needed someone close to him, who could help him to look
after his ailing boy, so that he could devote some time to his work as well.”
“I am sure that father must have obliged,” stated Ranjit.
“Yes, of course! He was a true friend of friends and never disappointed anyone,” replied Mukesh.
“It was somewhere in the early part of the year when summer had not arrived yet that Jagjit uncle
reached the Tiwari mansion on a sunny afternoon. As he entered the gate, he took a good long look at
the distance between the ground and the ill-fated room and in an instant realized that there was
something amiss. As he stood there in silence, contemplating on the matter, Seth Madan Lal came
forward to receive him. With a tired smile that could not hide the stress of the past year, Tiwari
hugged uncle and escorted him inside. Once uncle had met with all the family members, which were
Tiwari’s wife and his two daughters, he sat down to discuss the pressing issue with his friend…
‘So, how is his condition?’ he asked.
‘Unfortunately, it has only gotten worse,’ rued the anguished father.
‘What do the doctors say?’
‘They haven’t been able to fathom the matter. Not only are they puzzled, the medicines prescribed
by them have also had little effect on my young son,’ revealed Tiwari.
‘Hmm… So, what now?’
Tiwari took off his spectacles and disclosed certain new developments to his friend. ‘I am at my wit’s
end, dear friend. I have called upon the best of doctors, who have prescribed the strongest of
medicines, but to little effect. After much thought and pondering, we have finally decided to call a
renowned Pir baba of this area to understand the problem and cure my ailing son.’
“Jagjit uncle understood the untold misery his friend had gone through. He had finally called upon the
services of the pirs and fakirs as a sign of desperation and as a last resort to cure his sick son.
“Soon, uncle was taken to his room, located on the second floor of the house. Normally, the guests
were put up at the first floor, while the children resided on the third floor. Tiwari and his wife lived
on the second floor. But such were the condition of the boy and the need of the hour that the entire
family had to shift to the third floor. They now resided in the three rooms on the same floor and took
turns to look after the youngest male member of their family.”
***
“Soon, it turned dark and the family had just finished off with dinner. Mrs. Tiwari had gone upstairs to
feed her son when the doorbell rang. A servant opened the door and in walked a man with a long and
flowing grey beard sans moustache, dressed in a shimmering parrot green gown and a matching cap.
He also carried a broom in his hand.”
“Oh, come on! That is such a typical description!” commented Ranjit with a slight frown.
“My dear, we are talking about the 1920s. What you see today in films is what I call a typical
description. These people were the originals,” replied Mukesh and continued, “Lean and sternfaced
with heavily kohled eyes, the fakir didn’t speak much but immediately seemed to notice
something unsettling as he entered the house. Without wasting too much time, he immediately ordered
the family to take him to Ravi’s room.
“As the door to Ravi’s room was opened, the fakir stopped in his tracks, as if to guard himself
against an unwanted entity. Closing his eyes for a moment and mouthing some spells, he finally moved
forward and entered the room…
‘Leave me and the boy alone for some time and please close the door when you leave,’ said the fakir
in a grim yet commanding tone.
“The family did as told and waited anxiously in the drawing room below. There was an atmosphere
of untold tension while the fakir carried on with his work. According to Jagjit uncle, there was
something about the fakir… something in his looks or tone or probably the way he carried himself that
seemed reassuring to their senses. It did seem that if anyone could cure the boy, it would be him.
“Quite some time passed and everyone was in a state of anxiety. Minutes turned to hours and it was
almost two hours before Tiwari’s patience began to give way. Just as he was about to go up to
the boy’s room to find out, they saw the fakir descending.
Tiwari rushed to ask him about his son’s condition. ‘Pir baba, what has happened to my son?” he
asked, looking clearly troubled.
The baba remained solemn as ever and revealed, ‘I have analyzed the boy’s condition and there is
absolutely no doubt in my mind that he has been possessed by a spirit!’ he stated, even as everyone
standing in the room were aghast and flabbergasted to hear the horrific news. ‘And to make matters
worse, the spirit that vests in the body of your son is not only supremely evil and malevolent, but also
extremely strong and powerful!’ he added.
‘But, there must certainly be a way out of this problem?’ asked uncle, as the Tiwari family,
overcome by fear and concern, were too stunned to ask any questions of the fakir.
‘Yes… there is a solution,’ answered the fakir slowly and then took out an iron nail from his bag
which he carried on his shoulders. ‘This is an iron nail on which I have performed my rituals and
thereby strengthened its magical powers. I have hammered forty such nails on the window of your
son’s room from which he jumps out. It is not only my request but an order that nobody shall sleep
with him tonight as it is very important to know the kind of enemy we are dealing with. In all
likelihood, your son should be cured when the sun rises tomorrow morning. But…’ he paused.
‘But what, baba?’ asked Jagjit uncle.
The Pir baba looked at all of them and spoke in a commanding voice that warned them all of the
impending danger. ‘But if… if the spirit is able to remove even one nail from the door...your son shall
ne ver be cured,’ he warned and left the house.
“That night, every passing minute seemed like an hour to each and every one as they waited for the
sun to rise. Hopes had reached a high and there were chances of success. Ravi had not jumped out of
the window at midnight and this meant that the nails were effectively protecting Ravi from the dark
forces.
“As the sun rose in the morning, all the family members and uncle rushed to open the door and see for
themselves if Ravi was safe and sound,” said Mukesh before commenting, “I am sure you know how
strong an iron nail is, Ranjit. No one can even twist an iron nail irrespective of however strong a
person is and here there were not one but forty such iron nails and that too, not any ordinary iron nails
but those on which certain rituals had been performed. Remember also, that a weak and sickly
teenager slept inside the room,” he added.
“Hmm...but, what happened when they opened the door?” questioned an anxious Ranjit, who was
waiting to know more.
“When they opened the door the next morning,” said Mukesh, “the fakir had spoken of merely one nail
to be extracted from the door in order to see the spirit’s power, if you remember. But… when the
family opened the door, they saw that not one, not two, not ten… but all forty iron nails had been
extracted from the door and lay scattered all over the place. And not only that… each and every
single iron nail had been twisted at the center!
“It was as if the spirit was teasing them by not jumping off the window at midnight but challenging
them at the same time by showing them his strength. Ravi lay asleep and blissfully unaware of the
horror the spirit had spread by using his body as bait. Such was the effect of the news that the Pir
baba did not even dare to enter the house again and flatly refused further help stating that things, for
the first time in his life, were beyond his control!”
A chill ran down Ranjit’s spine as he heard the story and as uncanny as it may seem, wild animals
started howling that very instant, causing Mukesh to get up and leave his cousin’s company for a
few minutes.
Now completely alone in the deserted garden, he could hear the sounds of animals howling. Ranjit
tried to keep his cool, though those were certainly the most terrifying moments he had ever
encountered in his life. Shortly, his cousin returned, armed with a rifle, to shoot down the wild
animals if the need arose.
“Here! This should take care of the wild animals if they try to encroach upon this territory,” he said
before sitting down and continuing the remaining part of the story which was far from over.
“The incident had badly shaken up the Tiwaris and had put the entire household in a state of abject
gloom. At that time, uncle was the only one who tried to instill some hope and confidence into the
dejected and emotionally deflated family by reading up on the paranormal and consulting doctors,
babas, and pirs as well.
It was during one such still and chilly night, while he was reading a book on the occurrences of
paranormal activity that he felt drowsy and decided to call it a day. After ensuring that his door was
locked, he covered himself with a blanket and switched off the bedside lamp. Soon, he was in deep
slumber.
One cannot be really sure what time it was in the night but while he slept in the pitch darkness of
the room, he felt something suddenly jump on his chest with a thud… something strong and heavy…
and something that wasn’t willing to let go off him. Jagjit uncle was, thankfully, not a deep
sleeper and immediately realized the unnatural presence of someone on his chest. The most perturbing
fact was that he was certain that it wasn’t any child who had sat on him, but an extremely fierce
and powerful entity that was trying to crush his chest and strangle him to death.
As he struggled with the entity, the unknown force clearly seemed to have an upper hand in this
unevenly matched duel. Such was the pressure and force exerted by the assailant, that uncle began to
choke and gasp for breath. It was at this time that his presence of mind came to his rescue and he
realized that he would be able to defend himself better if he could see who his attacker was.
Struggling, he managed to reach the switch of the bedside lamp.”
“So, who was it after all?” asked Ranjit, leaving his glass of brandy on the table.
Mukesh gave Ranjit a silent and pensive look, for he too, despite being the narrator of the story, had
started feeling jittery in the eerie setting they sat in. If they wanted, they could have easily gone inside
the house but something stopped them, as if by design, and made them sit in the garden.
“That is the strange and haunting part of the story, dear cousin. When he switched on the light, he
saw… he saw… no one! No one was present in the room and it was strange that just as soon as he
had switched on the light, uncle felt much lighter… as if some load had been taken off his chest,
literally. Though he knew that no one could have escaped from the room in an instant, yet he searched
under the bed and in the cupboard to make sure if somebody was hiding there. He found absolutely no
one. And the door was still latched from the inside!”
“My goodness! I never knew father had experienced a paranormal encounter of this magnitude on
a personal level,” exclaimed Ranjit, shaken. “But, then what? What happened after that?”
“A few days after these strange incidents took place; a tantrik was summoned. After examining Ravi,
he slowly walked up to uncle and Tiwari ji…
‘What happened, Maharaj?’ asked Madan Tiwari, hoping for a positive response and a cure for
his son’s ailments.
‘There is no doubt that a spirit dwells in the body of your son. After listening to you experiences
and analyzing the condition of your son, Ravi, I can only say that it would be extremely difficult to
free him from the possession of this omnipotent evil entity. Difficult… but not impossible!’
Saying that, he took the two men outside the house and using a brick lying nearby, he drew a line on
the one side of the road. ‘Tonight, a woman shall come to bathe at the handpump situated in front of
your house before sunrise. Only she will be able to cross over this line that I have drawn. Make
sure that she doesn’t succeed in bathing here. She is a witch and an embodiment of evil, and the
person responsible for the condition of your son. She shall bathe in the nude as a ritual to strengthen
her powers. You must stop her. If you are able to prevent her from doing so, your son’s life will be
saved… or else,” said the tantrik and left after leaving his implicit statement unfinished.
“It was still afternoon, so Tiwari and uncle had ample time to prepare. Neither of them was willing to
risk Ravi’s life at any cost. As soon as the clock struck six in the evening and the first signs of
darkness appeared, both men pulled up a charpoy and seated themselves firmly near the haveli’s
gates, close to the water pump.
“The strange thing was that the handpump, which was used by residents, children and passersby, to
quench their thirst or to fill up water from, was completely unused today. As the two men sat there,
uncle realized that the tantrik had been right. No living being had yet crossed the line drawn by the
tantrik.
“Conscious of the tantrik’s prediction about nobody crossing the line drawn by him, he kept a close
watch. He saw a washer-man cycle to up to that point and then turn around and go away. Also, a dog,
which came to that line, stopped, sniffed the ground and then ran away.
“Dogs are known to have a strong sixth sense and as soon as the dog slunk away, uncle realized that
there was indeed some supernatural force at work. It was as if by design or a spell that people and
animals weren’t approaching the demarcated line. It was like somebody or something was
forbidding them from doing so. As Jagjit uncle pondered over this phenomenon, the sun set and
darkness settled for the night.
“In those days people retired their homes rather early and it wouldn’t be incorrect to say that by
8 o’clock, life on the streets used to come to a standstill and the roads became completely deserted,
and a not a soul could be found.
“The clock kept on ticking and the hours passed by without any activity. But the two men did not
budge from their observation point. Even dinner was served to them outside.
“It was around 1 o’clock in the night when the only sounds audible were either the clicking and
popping sounds of insects or the howling of stray dogs that Tiwari Seth excused himself for a moment
and said, ‘Jagjit, I am just going to the washroom to relieve myself. I shall be back in a couple of
minutes.’
‘Not a problem, Madan. I will be sitting here, keeping a vigil,’ assured uncle.
“What should have been a couple of minutes became 5 minutes… then 15 minutes… and finally 25
minutes, when uncle became alarmed at Tiwari’s absence. Fearing that something may have happened
inside the house to the boy, he rushed inside to ascertain if all was fine. Climbing the stairs two at a
time, he barged into Ravi’s room.
‘What happened?’ he asked, even as perspiration dripped from his brow.
‘Nothing, Jagjit. Your bhabhi informed me that Ravi’s condition had deteriorated, so I just came to
take a look at him,’ replied Madan, as he got up.
‘So, how is he feeling now?’ asked uncle with great concern.
‘The same. He has just slept.’
‘Thank God! I felt Ravi’s condition must have worsened when you didn’t come back and hence
rushed to find out.’
‘Thankfully, everything is okay. I was just about to come downstairs as I knew you would be
getting worried,’ replied Madan.
“The two men then went down as quickly as they could and reached the main gate when…” halted
Mukesh, almost deliberately, as if wanting his cousin to probe him with a question.
“When what?” asked Ranjit.
“When they saw a tall and curvaceous woman… who was stark naked… leaving after having a
bath at the handpump. Between the time that uncle went up to the house and came down with Tiwari,
this lady had crossed the demarcated line, reached the handpump, and finished having a bath.
“As she left, her light green eyes, which shone in the dark moonlit night, looked at the two men with
contempt and a demonic smile appeared on her dark red lips. She was mocking them. Uncle swore
that he hadn’t seen a more vicious or frightening look on anyone’s face in his life, as he did on
that woman’s face that fateful night.”
It was at this moment that Mukesh abruptly ended his tale and got up to leave.
“What? Is that it? What happened after that?” questioned a shocked and baffled Ranjit.
“Well, the boy remained extremely ill. His condition deteriorated further and he was left completely
bedridden and in acute pain for the next five years after which he started to become stable again,”
said Mukesh.
“So, how come this spirit left the boy’s body suddenly after so many years?” Ranjit wanted to
know.
Mukesh answered as he began to walk back toward the mansion.
“See, spirits are of two kinds, good and bad, and this one was pure evil. Just like it had entered the
boy’s body without any reason, it exited without a definitive reason. Strange are the tales of some
men, but stranger are things that we cannot comprehend or explain. Maybe the spirit had found itself a
new host and healthier body to reside in. Or, maybe its purpose had been achieved. Who knows and
who can tell?”
“Hmm, true. But, bhai sahab, where is this boy? And what is he doing now?” asked Ranjit.
Mukesh smiled and opened the door of his grand mansion. He gestured at Ranjit to come inside and
quietly said:
“That boy was sitting in the garden with you, recounting his tale!”
reading the newspaper and sipping tea in his beautiful apartment when there was a knock on his door.
Checking his wristwatch, he wondered who could have arrived so early on a Sunday morning. He
opened the wooden door and was pleasantly surprised see that it was his cousin, Mukesh, who had
come to pay him a visit.
“Arre, bhai sahab, aap? Please come in,” he said, inviting Mukesh into his house.
“Arre wah!” remarked Mukesh on seeing his cousin Ranjit open the door himself despite having many
orderlies working in the house.
“Have you eaten breakfast?” asked Ranjit with a smile on his face.
“Nahin, bhai. When I was coming to your house, why should I have eaten and come?” joked
Mukesh, for it was well known that Ranjit was a great host.
Acknowledging his guest’s compliment with a smile, Ranjit called out to his cook and asked him to
prepare breakfast for the two of them.
Ranjit and Mukesh both came from influential and affluent backgrounds and it was due to their vast
knowledge on various subjects that the two of them had a great rapport despite a 20-year age
difference between them.
Ranjit had an uncanny ability to read people’s faces and he could make out that there was
something troubling his cousin, Mukesh.
Once they had finished breakfast, they settled down in the cozy study over a cup of coffee.
“So, bhai sahab, tell me, what is troubling you?” Ranjit asked.
Mukesh was a little surprised but after a brief pause, he said in a low voice, “Ranjit, do you
remember our old mansion located atop the hill on Camel’s Back Road in Mussoorie?”
Ranjit had a good memory and almost immediately responded. “Well, yes, of course, I remember that
house. What about it?”
“I am planning to sell it off,” replied the elder cousin, much to Ranjit’s surprise.
“But why?” asked Ranjit, still trying to fathom as to why someone would want to sell off a property
as beautiful as the Mathur Villa.
The questioned seemed to make Mukesh slightly uncomfortable. He fidgeted before finally revealing
his reasons. “To tell you the truth, Ranjit, the mansion has become a white elephant for me. We
hardly visit the place once a year, but its upkeep and maintenance expenses are creating quite a big
hole in my pocket,” he replied, his face twitching.
“Hmm... have you found any buyers?” Ranjit asked.
“Well, as a matter of fact, I have found a buyer who is more than willing to purchase the Mathur
Villa. He is a foreigner, an Englishman, but has lived all his life in India. It seems that he couldn’t
quite get over his love for this country once the British left India. He wants to spend his last days in
the peace and tranquility of the hills of Mussoorie with his children and grandchildren. They seem to
be a friendly family and are more than willing to settle the deal on my terms and conditions,”
informed Mukesh.
“Well, it seems you’ve hit a jackpot, elder brother. So, how much are you planning to sell it off
for? Trust you have no problems in disclosing the amount to me?” probed Ranjit.
“Don’t be silly, Ranjit. Of course, I can tell you. You are family,” said Mukesh while gulping down
the water from his glass. “I am planning to sell it for 30 lakhs!”
“Thirty lakhs! Holy cow! That is certainly a lot!” exclaimed Ranjit on hearing the amount, as 30 lakh
rupees, in those days, was no small amount.
“Yes! And I need you to accompany me to Mussoorie when I go to sign the deal,” revealed
Mukesh.
“Me? Why me? I mean, I can definitely come if you want me to, but why don’t you take your son or
any other family member?” enquired a slightly surprised Ranjit.
“Yes, I can do that, but the truth is that I need someone intelligent, who can ensure that there is
nothing amiss with either the deal or with the person signing it. You are my first choice,” Mukesh
said with a pleading look on his face.
“Alright, I’ll definitely accompany you. When do we have to leave?” he asked.
“Next week. We shall leave early morning on Saturday and shall return by Sunday evening,”
informed Mukesh.
“Next week? Bhai sahab, do you realize it would be absolutely freezing in Mussoorie during the
last week of December?” cautioned Ranjit.
“I know Ranjit...I know. And frankly, if I had my way, I would have postponed this meeting. But
the problem is that this gentleman, whose name is Dirk Englebert, is planning to leave for England
soon and wants to acquire the rights of the place before the year ends as he wants to give this mansion
to his family as a New Year gift.”
“And since you get an off only on weekends... Saturday is the perfect day for signing the deal,
right?” concluded Ranjit. “Alright then, bhai sahab. We leave for Mussoorie next week,” he
declared with a smile.
***
It was the 27t h of December when Mukesh and Ranjit left at dawn for the serene hills of Mussoorie
in the latter’s car. Driving at a reasonably good speed, the two men crossed Dehradun and reached
Mussoorie in a good 6-8 hours after commencing their journey from Delhi.
As Ranjit got out of his car, his eyes looked at the Mathur Villa, the awe-inspiring multistoried
mansion of the colonial era that towered above everything else in the vicinity with its huge iron gates
followed by a sprawling green lawn which was partially covered by snow on all sides at that time of
the year.
“My goodness! This place hasn’t changed one bit since I last came here. It was overwhelming back
then and is overwhelming even now,” commented Ranjit with a smile of admiration on his face. He
had last visited the mansion as a ten-year-old kid, almost ten years ago.
Mukesh smiled and entered the premises even as the orderlies welcomed them at the gate, which
opened with a slow and shrill creaking sound. Ranjit looked back to take a look at the gate when he
saw an orderly staring at him strangely.
The mansion was huge and sprawling, with red carpeting all over the place. Portraits of the ancestors
of the Mathur lineage were hung on the wooden walls of the house and a fireplace kept the house
warm from the cold outside. Huge glass windows provided an ideal view of the snow-clad
mountains.
“Why don’t you retire to your room and change before Mr. Englebert arrives,” suggested Mukesh.
“Good idea. So, which one is my room?” asked Ranjit.
“It’s the first one to your left as you reach the first floor,” Mukesh informed him while instructing
an orderly to carry Ranjit’s luggage up to his room.
As Ranjit ascended the flight of stairs, the sound of his boots on the wooden flooring created an eerie
sound inside the mansion. Ranjit noticed the sound that his boots made as also the strange and uneasy
calm that seemed to pervade the mansion.
Entering his room, he was greeted by a tiger’s head hanging on the wall of his bedroom as a hunting
trophy. Apart from this unsettling view, the room was tastefully done up with wooden flooring, a
fireplace, an attached bathroom and a spacious balcony just outside a huge glass window.
Barely had Ranjit taken a hot-water bath and was getting ready, when he was informed of Mr.
Englebert’s arrival by one of the orderlies. Without further ado, Ranjit hurried to meet Englebert and
assist his cousin in his decision-making.
As he descended the stairs, he saw his cousin seated with an old, rotund, and partially bald
Englishman with grey hair and long sideburns.
“Oh, here he comes,” stated Mukesh on seeing his cousin descend the staircase, and introduced him to
the Englishman, who was sipping on his cup of steaming hot tea. “Mr. Englebert, this is my cousin,
Mr. Ranjit Bahadur Mathur, who has accompanied from Delhi.”.
The rest of the meeting went off smoothly with Englebert agreeing to all the terms and conditions and
not negotiating or bargaining too much. Soon, the documents were brought out and signed by the
respective parties. Ranjit couldn’t find a fault with either the documents or the Englishmen’s
character.
“Congratulations, Mr. Englebert. You are now officially the owner of this mansion,” Mukesh
congratulated the Englishman with a big smile and a firm shake of the hands.
The three of them then sat down to lunch and Mukesh elaborated on his further plans. “Mr. Englebert,
I shall be vacating the premises in the course of the next few days as it would not be possible to do so
all at once. Meanwhile, my staff will remain here until your arrival to keep the place clean and
operational. Mr. Englebert, the two of us will be leaving tomorrow morning and since, now you are
legally the new owner of the place, it is my duty to request your permission for staying the night
over,” he stated courteously.
“Oh, come on, dear. Don’t be so formal. You can use this place as you like till I return,” said
Englebert, wiping his mouth with a napkin and getting up to leave. “You shall have to excuse me,
gentlemen, for I have a flight to catch from Dehradun in a couple of hours and I must reach in time
for it. I shall be back in the second week of January, so you can vacate the house at your convenience.
I have had the most wonderful time signing this deal and interacting with you two gentlemen. Thank
you for your hospitality and courtesy,” he added.
With the deal successfully signed between the parties and due payments made to Mukesh, Ranjit
congratulated his cousin on his success. Mukesh hugged his cousin and thanked him for his support.
“Thank you so much, dear brother. You have been of immense help. I am sure that you must be
extremely tired after the day’s journey and thus I suggest that both of us retire to our rooms and catch
up on our sleep before we have a quiet celebration in the evening,” suggested Mukesh with a
relaxed look on his face, after which both the men retired to their respective rooms.
***
It was eight in the evening when the two men sat in the garden around a log fire to have a quiet
celebration. Dressed in their overcoats with mufflers wrapped around their necks, both of them were
enjoying the snacks prepared by the orderlies and having a drink together even as mist and fog
seemed to engulf the hills.
Ranjit looked at the road below, which was completely deserted. Mukesh noticed the pensive look
on Ranjit’s face and asked him what was troubling him.
“Nothing, really. Seeing such a lonely and deserted surrounding just makes it the perfect setting for
a ghostly tale,” commented Ranjit nonchalantly.
What Ranjit had said in jest seemed to have had a deep impact on Mukesh. Taking a sip of his drink,
he asked. “Did Jagjit uncle ever mention his experience with the paranormal to you?” asked
Mukesh, referring to Ranjit’s father.
“Well, I did not have the good fortune as my elder brothers of sharing a rapport with my father. He
passed away when I was only two,” sighed Ranjit.
“Pardon me, dear brother! I completely forgot about this tragic fact. I happened to ask since all of us
know about his paranormal experiences,” Mukesh apologized.
“Don’t bother, bhai sahab. What I missed hearing from him, I can always hear from you. I would
rather see it as an opportunity to hear an episode from the life of my father, of which I know so little,”
said the young Ranjit.
“Alright then. Keep in mind the fact that each and everything that I tell you in this story is an
undeniable fact and has taken place in the presence of a few people who would still be willing to
testify to those nightmarish incidents. I shall slightly modify the names of the characters so that you do
not have any preconceived notions about the people I mention in this story, if you have ever met them,
that is,” stated Mukesh.
The weather, the setting, the ambience, and the mood was perfect for a spine-chilling ghostly tale and
Ranjit was more than willing to hear of it. The two men sat all alone in the middle of the lawn, far
away from any living person and, but for the bonfire, were surrounded by omnipresent darkness. As
winds started to blow and the fog thickened, Mukesh began his tale.
“The story I recount to you is a one actually witnessed by one of your father’s extremely close
friends who we, for the sake of convenience, shall call Madan Tiwari. The tale is set in the early
part of the 1920s and it had an everlasting effect on your father. This gentleman, Madan, was a highly
successful individual and possessed an extremely huge and spacious house which was three stories
high. Now, you’ve got to imagine how the houses in the early part of the 1920s were — big,
spacious, huge, and multistoried, with lots of stairs and surrounded by broad, clean, and deserted
roads,” added Mukesh while creating a haunting imagery.
“One would think that a man so rich and successful would be jovial and full of happiness. But
anyone who thought so was highly mistaken. For inside the four walls of his house, a terrible tragedy
was taking place that was kept secret from the outside world. Madan’s son, whom we shall call
Ravi, was unwell with an undiagnosed ailment and there was something terribly wrong with him in
other ways too.
“The young lad was virtually on his deathbed, having been continuously bedridden for the past one
year. Once a healthy and normal looking teenager, Ravi, now, looked worse than a pale shadow of his
former self. Not only had he lost a great deal of weight, which made each and every bone in his body
visible from under his skin, but his skin color had also changed color. And he hardly ever ate
anything.
“But in the midst of all this pain and suffering, a strange occurrence used to take place. Ravi, who
could barely even walk without the help and support of his family members, used to suddenly throw
his razaai or duvet aside with some force and hop across to his room’s window and sit on the
windowsill. And when I say sit on the windowsill, I mean not by resting his buttocks as people
generally do, but by resting his feet on them in the posture of a chicken, as soon as the clock struck
12 at midnight.”
It was at this point that Ranjit, who was listening to the story with great interest, felt the chill quite
literally, as a wave of cold air brushed past him. Mukesh noticed the first signs of fear on his cousin’s
face, but knowing that Ranjit was eager to know more, he continued.
“But to be honest, the ordeal wasn’t over. For, as soon as he sat on the reasonably big windowsill of
his room, he would turn his face—just his face and not his body—a good 180 degrees and give a
piercing look to anyone who sat in the room and soon, an ominous smile would appear on his face,
after which he would jump out of the window! And did I forget to mention that his room was on the
third floor of the haveli?”
“From the third floor? Didn’t he seriously injure himself in the process, bhai sahab?” asked
Ranjit, even as goose-bumps began to appear all over his body.
“Strange are the stories of men, my brother. And in such strange stories, there always lies… a twist in
the tale! The most abnormal fact of this entire eerie phenomenon was that this boy never fell or
injured himself, for he always landed on his haunches, like a cat. I mean, if you or I were to jump
from the third floor of a building, we would obviously land on our knees, head, shoulders, and
injure ourselves or even die due to the severity of the fall. But not this boy. His jumps were perfect to
the hilt and never ever did he lose his balance in the fall. Jumping straight from the third floor of the
mansion into the garden, he always landed on all fours.
“It was almost as if someone other than him had control over his own body and was controlling his
movements. I say this because… just as soon as he would land, he would look back at his room’s
window and smile in the same demonic manner as he would do after turning his head at 180
degrees. Then, all of a sudden, he would lose consciousness and had to be carried back to his bed.
“And it was at this point in time that Seth Madan Lal Tiwari, who was by now physically and
mentally exhausted by these daily happenings, decided to call his best friend and your father, Jagjit,
for some emotional support and guidance. Tiwari had been unable to pay attention to his business due
to the deteriorating health of his son and needed someone close to him, who could help him to look
after his ailing boy, so that he could devote some time to his work as well.”
“I am sure that father must have obliged,” stated Ranjit.
“Yes, of course! He was a true friend of friends and never disappointed anyone,” replied Mukesh.
“It was somewhere in the early part of the year when summer had not arrived yet that Jagjit uncle
reached the Tiwari mansion on a sunny afternoon. As he entered the gate, he took a good long look at
the distance between the ground and the ill-fated room and in an instant realized that there was
something amiss. As he stood there in silence, contemplating on the matter, Seth Madan Lal came
forward to receive him. With a tired smile that could not hide the stress of the past year, Tiwari
hugged uncle and escorted him inside. Once uncle had met with all the family members, which were
Tiwari’s wife and his two daughters, he sat down to discuss the pressing issue with his friend…
‘So, how is his condition?’ he asked.
‘Unfortunately, it has only gotten worse,’ rued the anguished father.
‘What do the doctors say?’
‘They haven’t been able to fathom the matter. Not only are they puzzled, the medicines prescribed
by them have also had little effect on my young son,’ revealed Tiwari.
‘Hmm… So, what now?’
Tiwari took off his spectacles and disclosed certain new developments to his friend. ‘I am at my wit’s
end, dear friend. I have called upon the best of doctors, who have prescribed the strongest of
medicines, but to little effect. After much thought and pondering, we have finally decided to call a
renowned Pir baba of this area to understand the problem and cure my ailing son.’
“Jagjit uncle understood the untold misery his friend had gone through. He had finally called upon the
services of the pirs and fakirs as a sign of desperation and as a last resort to cure his sick son.
“Soon, uncle was taken to his room, located on the second floor of the house. Normally, the guests
were put up at the first floor, while the children resided on the third floor. Tiwari and his wife lived
on the second floor. But such were the condition of the boy and the need of the hour that the entire
family had to shift to the third floor. They now resided in the three rooms on the same floor and took
turns to look after the youngest male member of their family.”
***
“Soon, it turned dark and the family had just finished off with dinner. Mrs. Tiwari had gone upstairs to
feed her son when the doorbell rang. A servant opened the door and in walked a man with a long and
flowing grey beard sans moustache, dressed in a shimmering parrot green gown and a matching cap.
He also carried a broom in his hand.”
“Oh, come on! That is such a typical description!” commented Ranjit with a slight frown.
“My dear, we are talking about the 1920s. What you see today in films is what I call a typical
description. These people were the originals,” replied Mukesh and continued, “Lean and sternfaced
with heavily kohled eyes, the fakir didn’t speak much but immediately seemed to notice
something unsettling as he entered the house. Without wasting too much time, he immediately ordered
the family to take him to Ravi’s room.
“As the door to Ravi’s room was opened, the fakir stopped in his tracks, as if to guard himself
against an unwanted entity. Closing his eyes for a moment and mouthing some spells, he finally moved
forward and entered the room…
‘Leave me and the boy alone for some time and please close the door when you leave,’ said the fakir
in a grim yet commanding tone.
“The family did as told and waited anxiously in the drawing room below. There was an atmosphere
of untold tension while the fakir carried on with his work. According to Jagjit uncle, there was
something about the fakir… something in his looks or tone or probably the way he carried himself that
seemed reassuring to their senses. It did seem that if anyone could cure the boy, it would be him.
“Quite some time passed and everyone was in a state of anxiety. Minutes turned to hours and it was
almost two hours before Tiwari’s patience began to give way. Just as he was about to go up to
the boy’s room to find out, they saw the fakir descending.
Tiwari rushed to ask him about his son’s condition. ‘Pir baba, what has happened to my son?” he
asked, looking clearly troubled.
The baba remained solemn as ever and revealed, ‘I have analyzed the boy’s condition and there is
absolutely no doubt in my mind that he has been possessed by a spirit!’ he stated, even as everyone
standing in the room were aghast and flabbergasted to hear the horrific news. ‘And to make matters
worse, the spirit that vests in the body of your son is not only supremely evil and malevolent, but also
extremely strong and powerful!’ he added.
‘But, there must certainly be a way out of this problem?’ asked uncle, as the Tiwari family,
overcome by fear and concern, were too stunned to ask any questions of the fakir.
‘Yes… there is a solution,’ answered the fakir slowly and then took out an iron nail from his bag
which he carried on his shoulders. ‘This is an iron nail on which I have performed my rituals and
thereby strengthened its magical powers. I have hammered forty such nails on the window of your
son’s room from which he jumps out. It is not only my request but an order that nobody shall sleep
with him tonight as it is very important to know the kind of enemy we are dealing with. In all
likelihood, your son should be cured when the sun rises tomorrow morning. But…’ he paused.
‘But what, baba?’ asked Jagjit uncle.
The Pir baba looked at all of them and spoke in a commanding voice that warned them all of the
impending danger. ‘But if… if the spirit is able to remove even one nail from the door...your son shall
ne ver be cured,’ he warned and left the house.
“That night, every passing minute seemed like an hour to each and every one as they waited for the
sun to rise. Hopes had reached a high and there were chances of success. Ravi had not jumped out of
the window at midnight and this meant that the nails were effectively protecting Ravi from the dark
forces.
“As the sun rose in the morning, all the family members and uncle rushed to open the door and see for
themselves if Ravi was safe and sound,” said Mukesh before commenting, “I am sure you know how
strong an iron nail is, Ranjit. No one can even twist an iron nail irrespective of however strong a
person is and here there were not one but forty such iron nails and that too, not any ordinary iron nails
but those on which certain rituals had been performed. Remember also, that a weak and sickly
teenager slept inside the room,” he added.
“Hmm...but, what happened when they opened the door?” questioned an anxious Ranjit, who was
waiting to know more.
“When they opened the door the next morning,” said Mukesh, “the fakir had spoken of merely one nail
to be extracted from the door in order to see the spirit’s power, if you remember. But… when the
family opened the door, they saw that not one, not two, not ten… but all forty iron nails had been
extracted from the door and lay scattered all over the place. And not only that… each and every
single iron nail had been twisted at the center!
“It was as if the spirit was teasing them by not jumping off the window at midnight but challenging
them at the same time by showing them his strength. Ravi lay asleep and blissfully unaware of the
horror the spirit had spread by using his body as bait. Such was the effect of the news that the Pir
baba did not even dare to enter the house again and flatly refused further help stating that things, for
the first time in his life, were beyond his control!”
A chill ran down Ranjit’s spine as he heard the story and as uncanny as it may seem, wild animals
started howling that very instant, causing Mukesh to get up and leave his cousin’s company for a
few minutes.
Now completely alone in the deserted garden, he could hear the sounds of animals howling. Ranjit
tried to keep his cool, though those were certainly the most terrifying moments he had ever
encountered in his life. Shortly, his cousin returned, armed with a rifle, to shoot down the wild
animals if the need arose.
“Here! This should take care of the wild animals if they try to encroach upon this territory,” he said
before sitting down and continuing the remaining part of the story which was far from over.
“The incident had badly shaken up the Tiwaris and had put the entire household in a state of abject
gloom. At that time, uncle was the only one who tried to instill some hope and confidence into the
dejected and emotionally deflated family by reading up on the paranormal and consulting doctors,
babas, and pirs as well.
It was during one such still and chilly night, while he was reading a book on the occurrences of
paranormal activity that he felt drowsy and decided to call it a day. After ensuring that his door was
locked, he covered himself with a blanket and switched off the bedside lamp. Soon, he was in deep
slumber.
One cannot be really sure what time it was in the night but while he slept in the pitch darkness of
the room, he felt something suddenly jump on his chest with a thud… something strong and heavy…
and something that wasn’t willing to let go off him. Jagjit uncle was, thankfully, not a deep
sleeper and immediately realized the unnatural presence of someone on his chest. The most perturbing
fact was that he was certain that it wasn’t any child who had sat on him, but an extremely fierce
and powerful entity that was trying to crush his chest and strangle him to death.
As he struggled with the entity, the unknown force clearly seemed to have an upper hand in this
unevenly matched duel. Such was the pressure and force exerted by the assailant, that uncle began to
choke and gasp for breath. It was at this time that his presence of mind came to his rescue and he
realized that he would be able to defend himself better if he could see who his attacker was.
Struggling, he managed to reach the switch of the bedside lamp.”
“So, who was it after all?” asked Ranjit, leaving his glass of brandy on the table.
Mukesh gave Ranjit a silent and pensive look, for he too, despite being the narrator of the story, had
started feeling jittery in the eerie setting they sat in. If they wanted, they could have easily gone inside
the house but something stopped them, as if by design, and made them sit in the garden.
“That is the strange and haunting part of the story, dear cousin. When he switched on the light, he
saw… he saw… no one! No one was present in the room and it was strange that just as soon as he
had switched on the light, uncle felt much lighter… as if some load had been taken off his chest,
literally. Though he knew that no one could have escaped from the room in an instant, yet he searched
under the bed and in the cupboard to make sure if somebody was hiding there. He found absolutely no
one. And the door was still latched from the inside!”
“My goodness! I never knew father had experienced a paranormal encounter of this magnitude on
a personal level,” exclaimed Ranjit, shaken. “But, then what? What happened after that?”
“A few days after these strange incidents took place; a tantrik was summoned. After examining Ravi,
he slowly walked up to uncle and Tiwari ji…
‘What happened, Maharaj?’ asked Madan Tiwari, hoping for a positive response and a cure for
his son’s ailments.
‘There is no doubt that a spirit dwells in the body of your son. After listening to you experiences
and analyzing the condition of your son, Ravi, I can only say that it would be extremely difficult to
free him from the possession of this omnipotent evil entity. Difficult… but not impossible!’
Saying that, he took the two men outside the house and using a brick lying nearby, he drew a line on
the one side of the road. ‘Tonight, a woman shall come to bathe at the handpump situated in front of
your house before sunrise. Only she will be able to cross over this line that I have drawn. Make
sure that she doesn’t succeed in bathing here. She is a witch and an embodiment of evil, and the
person responsible for the condition of your son. She shall bathe in the nude as a ritual to strengthen
her powers. You must stop her. If you are able to prevent her from doing so, your son’s life will be
saved… or else,” said the tantrik and left after leaving his implicit statement unfinished.
“It was still afternoon, so Tiwari and uncle had ample time to prepare. Neither of them was willing to
risk Ravi’s life at any cost. As soon as the clock struck six in the evening and the first signs of
darkness appeared, both men pulled up a charpoy and seated themselves firmly near the haveli’s
gates, close to the water pump.
“The strange thing was that the handpump, which was used by residents, children and passersby, to
quench their thirst or to fill up water from, was completely unused today. As the two men sat there,
uncle realized that the tantrik had been right. No living being had yet crossed the line drawn by the
tantrik.
“Conscious of the tantrik’s prediction about nobody crossing the line drawn by him, he kept a close
watch. He saw a washer-man cycle to up to that point and then turn around and go away. Also, a dog,
which came to that line, stopped, sniffed the ground and then ran away.
“Dogs are known to have a strong sixth sense and as soon as the dog slunk away, uncle realized that
there was indeed some supernatural force at work. It was as if by design or a spell that people and
animals weren’t approaching the demarcated line. It was like somebody or something was
forbidding them from doing so. As Jagjit uncle pondered over this phenomenon, the sun set and
darkness settled for the night.
“In those days people retired their homes rather early and it wouldn’t be incorrect to say that by
8 o’clock, life on the streets used to come to a standstill and the roads became completely deserted,
and a not a soul could be found.
“The clock kept on ticking and the hours passed by without any activity. But the two men did not
budge from their observation point. Even dinner was served to them outside.
“It was around 1 o’clock in the night when the only sounds audible were either the clicking and
popping sounds of insects or the howling of stray dogs that Tiwari Seth excused himself for a moment
and said, ‘Jagjit, I am just going to the washroom to relieve myself. I shall be back in a couple of
minutes.’
‘Not a problem, Madan. I will be sitting here, keeping a vigil,’ assured uncle.
“What should have been a couple of minutes became 5 minutes… then 15 minutes… and finally 25
minutes, when uncle became alarmed at Tiwari’s absence. Fearing that something may have happened
inside the house to the boy, he rushed inside to ascertain if all was fine. Climbing the stairs two at a
time, he barged into Ravi’s room.
‘What happened?’ he asked, even as perspiration dripped from his brow.
‘Nothing, Jagjit. Your bhabhi informed me that Ravi’s condition had deteriorated, so I just came to
take a look at him,’ replied Madan, as he got up.
‘So, how is he feeling now?’ asked uncle with great concern.
‘The same. He has just slept.’
‘Thank God! I felt Ravi’s condition must have worsened when you didn’t come back and hence
rushed to find out.’
‘Thankfully, everything is okay. I was just about to come downstairs as I knew you would be
getting worried,’ replied Madan.
“The two men then went down as quickly as they could and reached the main gate when…” halted
Mukesh, almost deliberately, as if wanting his cousin to probe him with a question.
“When what?” asked Ranjit.
“When they saw a tall and curvaceous woman… who was stark naked… leaving after having a
bath at the handpump. Between the time that uncle went up to the house and came down with Tiwari,
this lady had crossed the demarcated line, reached the handpump, and finished having a bath.
“As she left, her light green eyes, which shone in the dark moonlit night, looked at the two men with
contempt and a demonic smile appeared on her dark red lips. She was mocking them. Uncle swore
that he hadn’t seen a more vicious or frightening look on anyone’s face in his life, as he did on
that woman’s face that fateful night.”
It was at this moment that Mukesh abruptly ended his tale and got up to leave.
“What? Is that it? What happened after that?” questioned a shocked and baffled Ranjit.
“Well, the boy remained extremely ill. His condition deteriorated further and he was left completely
bedridden and in acute pain for the next five years after which he started to become stable again,”
said Mukesh.
“So, how come this spirit left the boy’s body suddenly after so many years?” Ranjit wanted to
know.
Mukesh answered as he began to walk back toward the mansion.
“See, spirits are of two kinds, good and bad, and this one was pure evil. Just like it had entered the
boy’s body without any reason, it exited without a definitive reason. Strange are the tales of some
men, but stranger are things that we cannot comprehend or explain. Maybe the spirit had found itself a
new host and healthier body to reside in. Or, maybe its purpose had been achieved. Who knows and
who can tell?”
“Hmm, true. But, bhai sahab, where is this boy? And what is he doing now?” asked Ranjit.
Mukesh smiled and opened the door of his grand mansion. He gestured at Ranjit to come inside and
quietly said:
“That boy was sitting in the garden with you, recounting his tale!”
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