Spooky Stories

by Tanushree Podder

  ‘We may be able to locate Binoy, but Surya is dead,’ I told him with a grave expression, ‘He never got over the shock. A day after the experience, he ran out of his room shouting that the woman was hounding him. He ran up to the terrace and jumped to his death. This happened about two years back.’

  I retired a couple of weeks after Mohanty was released from the hospital. Busy with the load of work, Dr Sen forgot the incident. Till, a few months later, Mohammed Imran was brought to the hospital.

  He had been found in a half-naked state, running all over the library lawns as if he was being chased by someone. He was caught by the police and brought to the hospital. Imran’s clothes were torn and he was sweating profusely. When Imran saw that he was in a mental hospital, he was furious and insisted that he was not insane. ‘Why have you brought me here?’ he raged. ‘I am not mad. It was that woman. She tore my clothes and tried to kill me.’

  Dr Sen noticed that the hysterical man’s eyes continued to sweep from one side to the other, trying to ascertain if he was being followed by the woman.

  He kept the police on their toes, asking them to look behind the trees and pillars. The constables pretended to search the area before declaring that there was no one around. It was a couple of hours before Imran calmed down. The frightened man cowered in a corner of the room, refusing to eat or sleep.

  The next morning, when Imran was calmer, Dr Sen asked him for a description of the woman who had chased him. The answers matched those given by Binoy and Mohanty. The matter could no longer be dismissed as a coincidence.

  It was happening too frequently, the doctor realized. Something had to be done to stop the ghost, if there was one.

  Dr Sen spoke to Mr Bagchi, who was a librarian at the National Library. The two of them had met at official meetings and parties a couple of times. Besides, the doctor was a voracious reader and an old member of the library.

  After the initial exchange of pleasantries and a cup of tea, Dr Sen broached the subject. He decided to get to the point without wasting any time. ‘Did you know that your library is haunted by a ghost?’ he asked.

  ‘The rumours and stories about the ghost have existed for many years,’ replied Bagchi. ‘Some people claim it to be the ghost of Lady Metcalf, while some say the spirits are those of the workers who died during renovation work, and others claim they are the ghosts of people killed by the British during the Raj.’

  ‘I am bringing this up because there have been several cases of people being chased by a woman in the library.’

  ‘It’s just a publicity stunt. I am sure those people are delusional. I have been working here for many years, but have never come across any ghost. If there was a ghost, wouldn’t I have seen her?’

  In the end, Dr Sen suggested that the librarian visit the mental hospital and see the documents of the people who had encountered the ghost. Bagchi accepted the invitation.

  He arrived the very next morning. After giving him a tour of the hospital, the doctor led him to his office where he had laid out the files with the statements of Binoy, Mohanty and Imran.

  ‘This is rather strange,’ agreed the librarian. ‘All three men have given exactly the same description of the woman. Also, they seem to have gone through the same experience. Like Mohanty, Binoy, who was a post-graduate student, had also been led to a secluded part of the library, where he had found the relevant books. I would never have believed the statements, had I not seen them recorded in your office.’

  ‘Not just Binoy and Mohanty, Imran had also been led to the same secluded part of the hall to refer to the books he required. It’s not a coincidence,’ said Dr Sen. ‘I am sure there must have been many more cases. Perhaps, they were not arrested by the police and brought to the hospital so the statements were not recorded.’

  Bagchi was flabbergasted. He wondered how three people could have encountered the same woman. The incidents were spread over a period of many months, but their descriptions about the woman matched. The three men had never met, so there was no possibility of them exchanging notes.

  ‘I am surprised that the books required by each man were found in the same part of the hall,’ said the librarian. ‘As far as I know, there is just one kind of book in that section.’

  ‘All the encounters had taken place late in the evening,’ said the doctor.

  ‘The library is open till 8 in the evening, but some people tend to linger. We don’t push them out, of course. According to Binoy’s account, he had been chased out of the library at around 7.30 p.m. Mohanty had burst out of the place at almost 8 p.m. and so had Imran.’

  ‘I want to conduct an experiment,’ said Dr Sen. ‘I need your help for the same.’

  ‘I am at your disposal. Just let me know what has to be done.’ The librarian’s curiosity had been aroused and he wanted to get to the bottom of the matter.

  The next evening, Dr Sen arrived at the library at around 7 p.m. There were not many people in the library. Picking up a book on paranormal activities, he took a seat at a table towards the rear of the hall. The librarian had already informed the police station and they had posted a constable in plainclothes.

  A few minutes passed and then a woman arrived. She was young and pretty. As described by his three patients, she was wearing a dark blue sari, and a pair of pearl studs dazzled on her ears. On her neck was a pearl string. Dr Sen realized it was the same woman. She took a seat next to him.

  ‘What are you reading?’ she asked. Her voice sounded hollow.

  When Dr Sen told her that he was researching psychiatric treatment, she informed him that there was a collection of such books at the extreme end of the hall.

  ‘There are some rare books, which may be important for your research,’ she said.

  He got up and nodded at Bagchi, who signalled the constable to follow in a discreet manner. Dr Sen followed the lady past a dimly-lit corridor to a secluded table, and then she turned a corner. She stopped near a wall and an opening suddenly appeared where there had been none.

  It was dark inside. Dr Sen hesitated at the threshold and refused to follow. The woman tried to grab him by the hand and force him inside, but the doctor was prepared for such a situation. He turned around and ran. The constable, who had been watching, ran behind him. They had goosebumps all over and were shaking with fear.

  Dr Sen was convinced about the paranormal activities in the library and so were Bagchi and the cop. The matter was taken up with the authorities, who promised to investigate.

  After a persistent follow-up with the Ministry of Culture, Bagchi was able to get the matter sorted. In 2010, the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) decided to renovate the library and at the same time find out what lay behind the wall.

  During the renovation, the ASI discovered that a secret room of about one thousand square feet lay behind the wall, but there were no doors and no openings leading to it. They drilled an opening in the wall and entered the room. Although the officials claimed they found nothing, there were many rumours about the contents and the purpose of the room. According to some, it had been used as a torture chamber by the British. They had interrogated several freedom fighters, who were later walled in and left to die. According to others, it was a secret treasure house of the British officer who stayed in the building.

  If you ask me, it is the ghost of a female freedom fighter. She could have died during the torture session carried out by the British officers. Seeking vengeance, her restless spirit haunts the library. I leave you to draw your own conclusions.

  The one positive thing that emerged after the renovation was that no one was chased by a ghost in the library ever again.’

  Dr Basu ended her story.

  9

  THE TRAMP AND THE SEVEN GHOSTS

  ‘Now would you believe ghosts really exist?’ Dr Basu turned her attention to Anirudh.

  ‘Why don’t we switch channels?’ Anirudh replied. ‘We’ve had enough ghost stories for a night. It’s creating a dark atmosphere in this gloomy pl
ace. I can tell you a nice love story, instead. It will lighten the mood.’

  ‘No!’ Several voices rose in protest. ‘This is a session of ghost stories. We can’t deviate from the topic.’

  ‘That’s true,’ agreed the jeweller. ‘We can’t change the topic till everyone has had a chance to narrate their story. Let’s have the next story.’

  ‘My story is about a spooky experience at the Talbehat Fort,’ a voice piped up from the darkest corner of the room. Anirudh swivelled on his chair to take a look at the man. All he could make out was a gaunt figure in a shabby overcoat and scruffy, lace-less shoes.

  ‘Never heard of the place,’ remarked the soldier.

  ‘It’s near Lalitpur,’ said Anirudh, who had heard of it. ‘The fort belonged to Raja Mardan Singh, who collaborated with Rani Laxmibai and fought the British. In fact, he built the fort for his father, Prahlad Singh.’

  ‘Thanks for the lesson in history. I had no idea that the fort had been such an important one,’ said the storyteller. ‘I am just a tramp, after all. I have no home and no address, so my nights are spent in all kinds of places. Sometimes in abandoned houses, sometimes on the footpath and sometimes in a night shelter. My food and necessities are few and the money that I require for food comes either from begging or from the pockets I pick. Ever since I remember, I have been living the same way.

  Funnily, I don’t like staying in a place for long. From time to time, I board a train and get down wherever the ticket checker throws me out. Since I have no possessions except the clothes on my back, it poses no problem. In fact, it provides me with a sense of adventure. Adapting to the new place has never been a challenge.

  Like always, that morning I boarded a train. I had no ticket and no destination. It was close to noon when the ticket checker demanded to see my ticket. As expected, I was thrown out at the next station. It turned out to be a small town called Talbehat.

  I was disappointed.

  It had been my experience that small towns didn’t offer enough opportunities for begging and stealing. Escaping the police was also difficult. But I decided to take my chances by lingering in the town for a couple of days. Jhansi was not very far from Talbehat, so taking a train to that place wouldn’t be difficult.

  It was past lunchtime and I was very hungry. My last meal had been more than twelve hours ago. I loitered around the station, but there was no hope of finding anything to eat. Filling my stomach with water, I spent the afternoon on the platform.

  Soon it was evening, and I was debating whether to stay at Talbehat or take a train to Jhansi, when a train halted on the platform. From the timetable put up on the platform, it was clear that the trains halted for very little time at the tiny railway station. There was a flurry of activity as several passengers jostled each other, some boarding and others disembarking from the train. I joined the melee, looking around for an opportunity to pick a pocket. My nimble fingers sought easy targets. Soon, I had found a wallet. I was overjoyed to find it loaded with money.

  Without wasting any time, I rushed towards the exit. But, the passenger was alert. He discovered that his pocket had been picked. Seeing me rushing towards the exit, he pointed at me and shouted. ‘Chor! Chor!’

  Moments later, I found myself being chased by a group of people. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me and continued running till I halted near a path that seemed to lead nowhere, exhausted. There, I hid behind a tree, waiting for the coast to clear.

  By then, the passenger had given up chase. But, it was risky to linger, so I continued walking down the path that led me towards the base of a fort. I learnt later that it is known as the Talbehat Fort. It loomed over the area, poised on a hill like a brooding being. The dilapidated but impressive fort with huge, crumbling perimeter walls seemed to be calling out to me. I trudged up a winding path that led to a massive gate which led into the fort.

  Once inside, I loitered around, taking stock of the place. A part of the fort lay in ruins, and the rest was in a state of disrepair. Not a soul could be seen around. There were bats and monkeys, of course. There must be snakes and scorpions too, though I couldn’t spot them at the moment. The peaceful fort seemed an ideal hideout for a thief.

  Peeping down from the ramparts of the fort, I spotted a huge lake. It was a beautiful sight. Children frolicked and people walked. Cool breeze fanned my face. No one would look for me there, I remember thinking. I could stay there forever.

  The sun was beginning to set as I went around looking for a good spot to spend the night. There were three temples inside the fort, and the area in front of them seemed safer and cleaner. I lay on the tiles in front of the Hanuman temple and went to sleep.

  By morning, I had made up my mind to stay there for a few days. To be honest, I don’t know what made me take that decision. Was it the safety of the secluded, crumbling fort, or was it the wish to spend a few days in peace? I still don’t know the answer.

  It was a nice place, but an isolated one. I had a lot of money, thanks to the fat wallet resting in the pocket of my shabby trousers. In that fort I could remain hidden forever.

  There would be several challenges, I knew. Finding food was one of them. I would have to trudge all the way to the railway station to bathe and buy food. At the same time, there would be several opportunities for me to pick pockets. The trains that halted at Talbehat Station did so for no more than a couple of minutes. That led to chaos, which provided a perfect chance for my nimble fingers.

  I hit upon a plan. That evening, I walked down to the railway station and treated myself to a lavish dinner. The fiery mutton curry and rice at the dhaba turned out to be surprisingly good. It had been a long time since I had tasted mutton. Ending my meal with hot jalebis that had been freshly prepared, I burped with satisfaction. The trek back to the fort gave me time to think over my plans.

  Life was good. I decided to stay at Talbehat for some more days.

  That night, I went to sleep with a song on my lips. It had been a long time since I had slept so peacefully. Whether it was on a platform of a railway station, in a park or on the pavement, I had always woken up to a kick from the police. There was always the fear of being thrown into a van and taken away to a beggar remand home.

  Well, it was around midnight when I woke up, on hearing a bloodcurdling scream. The shrill, eerie sound pierced my dream and I sat up and listened. There was absolute silence. It must have been the wind whistling through the broken walls of the fort, I thought, and went back to sleep. Minutes later, I heard it again. This time, I was sure there was someone in the fort. The strident scream was followed by a keening sound.

  Soon, a chorus of wailing and weeping echoed around the fort. It seemed like there were several people in the fort. I am not a person who gets scared easily, but the continuous wailing sent shivers through my body. Icy talons gripped the base of my spine, and I felt a sinking sensation growing in my stomach. My nerves taut like a bowstring, I perked up my ears.

  Something was very wrong, warned my instinct. The moon had disappeared behind a mass of thick clouds, plunging the place into darkness. My senses heightened, I could now hear the slightest of sounds. There was a scurrying sound as rats rushed around. This was followed by the eerie sound produced by the flapping of bat wings. Jackals howled in the distance, making my hair stand on end. These sounds had been there earlier, I was sure, but I had failed to hear them.

  Shaken, I got up and began walking in the direction of the wailing sound. A shadowy figure standing on the edge of the rampart caught my attention. It seemed to be standing still. The next minute, it was joined by another figure and then another, till I counted seven of them standing in a row. Dressed in festive clothes, they seemed like close friends. Their faces in shadow, they appeared to be young girls.

  One of them crooked a bony finger and beckoned me forward. I obeyed her like a hypnotized person. ‘Jump!’ I heard her command. A voice in my ear hissed a warning, but I continued walking towards the girls.

  ‘Jump!
Jump! Jump!’ they chanted in unison. I didn’t want to follow their order, but my body seemed helplessly out of control. My mind numb, I stopped a couple of feet away from the seven figures. The chanting continued, propelling me forward till I stumbled over a broken fragment of the wall.

  All of a sudden, I regained my awareness and stopped moving. The voices were mocking and laughing at me, but I remained rooted to the spot.

  The girls seemed poised to jump from the rampart of the fort. A steep gorge lay below the walls and I was sure they would die if they jumped. I stretched out my hand to stop them. They began jumping before I could do anything.

  First one, then another, and yet another girl leapt to their deaths, wailing and shrieking as they fell. My ears began hurting from the cacophony of screams, and I closed my eyes.

  It ended as suddenly as it had begun. A hush fell over the place. I stared at the spot where the girls had been standing and saw no one. Horrified, I looked down but it was dark and I could see nothing.

  By then, my arm was covered in goosepimples and I began shivering as though I had malaria. I returned to the temple, and lay curled into a ball.

  I don’t know how long I remained in that position, but it seemed like a long time. My limbs continued to tremble and I was unable to stop myself from babbling.

  A couple of hours passed. The shaking and shivering finally stopped and I began to relax. I had just nodded off when the entire drama was repeated. The chorus of screams, wails and cries rent the air and once again I reached the embankment and saw the seven girls jumping off the wall. Mesmerized, I watched them leaping down to their death. They seemed to be enjoying the game. I almost joined them in the game of leaping off the rampart, stopping myself in the nick of time.

  It continued through the night. I was a wreck by the morning. The figures I had seen were ghosts, I realized. There was no point in staying back in the fort. I decided to leave. But before doing that, I was curious to know about the fort. There was no doubt that it was haunted.