Spooky Stories

by Tanushree Podder

  Unnoticed, I made my way towards a garden near the eastern gate, on one side of the complex. Once there, I found a huge bush and hid behind it. I was sure a lot of adventurous people would have tried to hang back in the complex, so the guards would work hard to ensure everyone left at the closing hour.

  My heart began beating rapidly as I realized the outcome of such a daring act. The authorities were not likely to take the breaking of rules lightly. I would be punished, perhaps jailed. My mind was full of fears and I began praying earnestly.

  Soon, the visitors were gone and a hush fell over the place. I began shuddering with nervousness and fear. An hour passed and then two. No one had discovered my hiding place, so I began to relax.

  I was hungry. Digging into the voluminous pocket of my cargo trousers, I found a bar of chocolate. Apart from the chirping of cicadas, there was no sound to be heard. From time to time, the crunch of the guards’ boots, as they were marching around the complex, broke the silence. Sometimes, they halted to light a cigarette or call out to each other.

  The place took on a ghostly look as the hours passed. I could sense an eerie presence around me. It felt as though I was being watched by people. Hushed voices seemed to fill the garden. It was a warm night, yet I felt an icy breeze rushing past. I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself.

  It was almost 11.30 p.m. when I decided to creep out of hiding. Slowly and stealthily, I crept towards a hall near the courtyard. Expecting a voice to call out, I felt my heart clutch with fear as I stole around, clicking photographs of the now deserted place. I was fearful of the flash been seen, or the clicking sound being heard by the guards. Fortunately, it didn’t happen.

  My fear lessened as I moved towards the palaces around the central part of the complex. By now, I was quite far from the external areas where the guards were patrolling. Getting bolder, I stepped into the palaces. The photographs would be exclusive, I knew.

  A little after midnight, I entered a huge hall. All of a sudden, my eyes were attracted by a strange sight. Dozens of women in white floated around the courtyard, dancing. Some of them were playing music on flutes. It was an enchanting scene. Mesmerized, I clicked several photographs of the dancing women, who were all dressed in white flowing garments. There seemed to be hundreds of them in the courtyard. Their hair was done up in the traditional fashion, adorned with white lilies. I inhaled the strong and intoxicating scent of the flowers.

  One of the women crooked her finger, asking me to join the group. They laughed as I joined them in dance. They seemed to float around, swaying gently with the rhythm of the music. Their shawls swirling and shimmering in the light of the full moon, they whirled like ethereal beings. I twirled and whirled, floated and twisted with them, enjoying creative companionship. A few of them smiled as I tried to keep up with their movements. It was a magical experience, one that I will never forget. I had never danced with such abandon nor experienced such joy. It was like participating in a fairy tale. My soul uplifted, I felt lighter than ever before.

  All of a sudden, I heard loud wailing and everyone began running in different directions. One of them gestured for me to follow. Her lips spelled out a silent warning. By now, I was surrounded by a thick crowd of wailing women and I began running. Soon, I was caught in the midst of the throng. Looking behind me, I noticed a troop of sword-wielding soldiers who slashed at them with their swords.

  What madness was this?

  We ran amok around the courtyard, trying to save our lives from the murderous soldiers. Minutes later, the place was covered with blood and bodies. Bodies piled up as the surviving women fled from one side to the other. It didn’t take long for us to be cornered by the soldiers.

  A sword flashed in the moonlight and I fell with a deep sigh as it pierced my heart. There was a hush around me. I felt no pain as I collapsed into a heap.

  I don’t know how long I lay unconscious. It was still dark when I woke up. My head throbbed painfully as I looked around. For several minutes, I had no idea where I was or how I had landed there. There was a lump at the back of my head, where it had hit the floor.

  Then, I caught sight of my camera and the night’s happenings came to my mind. Thankfully, the camera had not been damaged by my fall.

  Frantically, I began looking through the photographs. I had shot at least fifty photographs of the dancing women and the slaughtering that followed. Not a single one remained. There were pictures of the palaces and gardens that I had shot, but none of the women I had seen dancing.

  I felt dizzy as I realized that the encounter had been a ghostly one. Those women were the ghosts that haunted that specific part of the Forbidden City.

  Then I remembered reading a strange story. According to the story, Emperor Yongle of the Ming Dynasty had committed a drastic act during his reign. The tyrannical emperor was known to be a dreaded ruler. The emperor’s name was enough to strike terror through the hearts of his subjects.

  It is rumoured that in 1421, the emperor ordered the execution of about three thousand servants, ladies-in-waiting and concubines. That terrible night, thousands of bodies were torn to shreds by the merciless imperial soldiers, even as weeping and screaming rent the air.

  The massacre was ordered by the tyrant because he believed that his beloved concubine had been poisoned by jealous women. It is said that the place is haunted by the weeping and screaming women even today. People of ancient times have claimed to have seen pools of blood, dead bodies and the ghosts of vicious soldiers. I am sure I had been treated to the spectacle that night.

  A few years after that cruel night, a fire raged through the Forbidden City. It turned more than 250 buildings to ashes, killing many people. Many believe that it was the curse of the slain women that caused the devastation. Believing that the fire had been caused by his cruel act, the emperor sank into depression. He never recovered and died three years after the incident.

  Bad luck continued to haunt the palace as fifteen of Emperor Yongle’s favourite concubines were hanged by white silk nooses on the day of his funeral. I am sure that their ghosts hover around the palace just like those of the three thousand women slain on the emperor’s orders.

  Coming back to the story, I got up and wandered around the empty palaces, dazed after the experience. As dawn broke, I crept back to my hiding place behind the bush near the eastern gate. A few hours later, I mingled with the horde of visitors entering the complex.

  My photo-feature earned a lot of praise. The praise didn’t bring me any joy. I was unhappy because I had lost the pictures of the ghosts. Those were the only evidence of my ghostly experience.’

  8

  THE TORTURED SOUL

  The stories were getting on Anirudh’s nerves. The very thought that he would have to endure them for some more time, made him restless. The others were enjoying themselves, but his head had begun aching.

  ‘The story session is getting rather interesting. Let’s have the next one,’ clamoured Mala.

  ‘Let’s not waste any time, then. The next story, please,’ said the jeweller.

  ‘My name is Debjani Basu and I am a doctor by profession,’ said the lady seated across the room. All Anirudh could discern was that she was dressed in a pastel green sari. Her voice was deep and authoritative, and her manner unhurried. ‘In fact, I am a psychiatrist.’

  ‘You are a mental doctor?’ the builder sniggered. A few voices tittered in response.

  ‘Yes, you may say so. A psychiatrist heals the mind, just as a doctor heals the body. You may be surprised to know that there are as many people with unhealthy minds as there are with unhealthy bodies,’ Dr Basu replied calmly. ‘For that matter, I wouldn’t be surprised to find some very unhealthy minds in this room.’

  Her words were followed by a respectful silence.

  ‘Madam, please continue your story,’ said the jeweller.

  ‘This story is about the time when I was in charge of the Pavlov Mental Health Hospital, which is located in the heart of Kolkata. I had w
orked for the hospital for a very long time and was due to retire in January 2006. Though the hospital is located next to a burial ground, with water bodies on three sides, I made an attempt to create an ambience of peace and beauty. Our resources were limited and patients too many, but we succeeded in giving a facelift to the hospital.

  Three months before my retirement, Dr Sumit Sen was appointed to take over the reins as the head of the hospital. The two of us had many matters to sort before I left, and we remained very busy with the paperwork.

  One morning, a few weeks before my retirement, we were disturbed by a commotion outside the office. Dr Sen and I rushed out to find a man running all over the place. He was shouting at the top of his voice. The three men who were chasing him were finding it hard to calm the man. His eyes wide with fear, he rushed from one end to the other. From time to time, he looked back as though he was being followed by an invisible ghost. It was obvious that the man was terrified. He clambered up the large mango tree and refused to come down.

  In my long career of 35 years, I had met many like him. From experience, I knew that he had to be handled with caution. Patience was the key.

  We tried to calm him, but to no avail. I asked for his name and was told it was Ramakant Mohanty.

  ‘Ramakant, are you scared?’ I asked the man.

  I had to repeat my question several times, before he looked down and nodded his head.

  ‘Don’t worry, I will take care of you. No one will be allowed to harm you,’ I reassured Mohanty in a nurturing manner.

  ‘She can go anywhere and do anything,’ he muttered.

  ‘Who are you talking about?’ asked Dr Sen, who was standing by my side under the tree.

  Mohanty’s eyes darted all around, searching for someone. ‘Will you protect me?’ he asked.

  Leaving some attendants to persuade him to come down from the tree, I spoke to the policemen who had brought the man to the hospital.

  ‘He was running around the front lawn of the National Library, shouting and abusing everyone,’ said one of the policemen, wiping his sweating face with a handkerchief. ‘We were called by the library authorities and we arrested him for creating a nuisance.’

  ‘What did you do with him?’ I asked.

  ‘We put him in a cell with other vagabonds. For three days, he continued shouting and screaming and asking to be let off. He neither slept nor allowed anyone to sleep. He refused to eat the food given to the prisoners, saying it was poisoned. The SHO decided he was mentally disturbed and so we were ordered to bring him here.’

  ‘You can leave now,’ I told the policemen. ‘We will take care of him.’

  There was some paperwork to be completed and we continued working till one of the attendants rushed in to inform us that Mohanty had calmed down and was now lying on a bed in the patient examination room. They had given him some food and water, which he had gobbled down. ‘The man was very hungry,’ said the attendant.

  Within a few hours, we realized that Mohanty was suffering from fear psychosis. He was in a delusional state and had to be handled carefully. Dr Sen and I spent several hours speaking to him about unrelated things and created a sense of comfort. It took almost a week to make him feel relaxed.

  It was only after he had relaxed that he was brought to my office. Dr Sen and I intended to interview Mohanty. Over tea and biscuits, we began talking in an informal manner. To our surprise, Mohanty turned out to be a journalist, who was doing research for a story on the role of Bengalis in the independence struggle. He had visited the National Library several times during the course of his research.

  It was my practice to record the interviews and go through them later. This helped in analyzing, reviewing and updating the patients’ dossier. It was important that the patient didn’t realize that his words were being recorded. As Mohanty sipped his tea, I began recording his statement surreptitiously.

  From his interview, it was obvious that he couldn’t come to terms with the idea of living in the mental hospital. ‘Believe me, madam, I am not mad,’ he said. ‘I am a journalist. Please call the newspaper editor. He will vouch for my sanity.’

  ‘I am sure you aren’t mad,’ I reassured the distressed man. ‘Our interest lies in discovering the reason for your uncharacteristic behaviour. I don’t think you are in the habit of running around the National Library. It’s not normal behaviour.’

  ‘It’s difficult to explain,’ he nodded sadly. ‘I was extremely frightened and in a state of shock. It just took me quite some time to get over the horrifying experience. Suddenly, I had no control over my behaviour. It’s natural that the librarian and the people around the library thought I had gone mad.’

  ‘Tell us what caused you to behave in this manner,’ Dr Sen asked gently.

  We had no intention of upsetting Mohanty.

  ‘I don’t know if you will believe my story,’ he said.

  ‘Try us.’

  ‘Well, like every other day, I had gone to the library to consult some books for my research. It was not my first visit to the library. I had gone there several times in the past. My visits were mostly in the evening, since I go to work in the morning. There were not many people in the library that evening. A pretty young lady sitting at my table caught my eye. She wore a dark blue sari and pearl studs in her ears, and had a string of white flowers in her hair. She seemed engrossed in a book that lay before her. I had noticed that she had been sitting at the same table on the previous day. I was surprised when she smiled at me. I smiled back. After a couple of minutes, she sidled up to me and asked what I was reading.

  When told about my research, she offered to help. ‘I know the exact shelf with the books you need,’ she said, ‘I will take you there.’ I was flattered by her attention and willingness to help. So, I followed her without any protest when she led me to the far end of the hall. It was a secluded corner and there were no people around. As she had mentioned, the shelves held a huge collection of books on the freedom struggle and I was delighted. I located the books required for my work and began poring over them.

  I noticed her sitting next to me, smiling. I continued working. All of a sudden, she got up and walked across the hall and disappeared. One minute she was there and the next moment she wasn’t. Surprised, I noticed that there were no doors on that side of the room. Where did she go? An hour passed and it was time for the library to close, but she didn’t appear. I had finished my work and decided to thank her for the help. The books had turned out to be a treasure trove of information.

  I also wanted to know her name and number so I could keep in touch. I got up and went up to the place where she had vanished. There was no gap or opening. Just then, almost magically, the wall split open and I saw a darkened passage. Wondering where it led, I entered the passage. After a while, my eyes got used to the darkness and I could make out the outlines. It seemed like a dungeon. There was an eerie sensation and my nose picked up a strange stench.’

  Mohanty paused to drink water. His hands were trembling. Dr Sen and I exchanged a look as we waited for him to resume. It seemed to be a case of paranormal delusion.

  ‘I knew I should return to the library, but curiosity got the better of me. Suddenly, I stumbled. Something was lying near my feet. I picked up the object, which seemed to be a piece of wood. I peered and focused my eyes on the wood. Shocked, I realized it was a piece of bone. My eyes, now used to the dark, could spot heaps of bones scattered around the room. I was terrified. ‘Lady,’ I shouted, ‘where are you?’

  ‘I am here,’ she responded. Her voice echoed hollowly around the chamber.

  She was standing just two feet away from me, but she looked transformed. Her eyes were glowing in the dark, her mouth was open and her teeth were like those of a tiger. Blood dripped from her mouth.

  I turned and ran towards the passage, but my shirt got caught on a nail lodged in the wall. Trembling, I struggled to free myself and escape from the place. The shirt tore and I began running. I raced out of the building and
continued running, but I couldn’t get rid of the woman. She continued to follow me as I ran. And then the constables arrived and took me to the police station. The next thing I knew I had been brought here, to the hospital.’ Mohanty ended the story of his unusual experience.

  After he had stopped speaking, I began shooting questions at Mohanty. I wanted to know everything about the woman he had seen. Her age, height, appearance, dress, hair, jewellery and every specific detail he could remember. I noted down all the replies and let him go. By then, the man looked absolutely exhausted.

  Taking out a file from my locker, I put it before Dr Sen.

  ‘Read this,’ I instructed. ‘This is the statement of a person who had gone through a similar experience at the library. His name is Binoy Chakraborty. Binoy’s story runs along the same lines. He had visited the National Library and thereafter began behaving like a madman. Just like Mohanty, he had been found running around the library, claiming to be chased by a woman. He was pronounced mad by his family and brought to this hospital. His description of the woman and the incident that followed the meeting matches the one given by Mohanty. Mind you, these are educated and intelligent men.’

  ‘What happened to Binoy?’ asked Dr Sen.

  ‘We kept him under observation for a couple of days and found nothing wrong with him. He regained his health and wanted to return to his job. So, we let him go. These are not the only two.’

  Taking out another file, I put it before my colleague. ‘Surya was the next person to narrate a similar experience.’

  ‘What happened to him?’

  ‘He gave the same description of the woman. It’s noted here,’ I indicated the statement with my pen.

  ‘I would like to speak to Binoy and Surya,’ said Dr Sen.