I have an unanswered question though. This universe always has its complements in everything – good and bad, male and female, light and dark, positive and negative. So, why not, God and Ghost? I mean, if it’s true that an almighty super power by the name God exist, so should an all-evil deadly power to counteract it? I am not analyzing further in these lines as I’ve already started feeling a chill down my spine. What if an invisible spirit is right next to me, reading my post as I am writing it and chooses this moment to introduce itself?
Right from my college days, I often find myself in situations where I have to be alone. My father and brother were working in different cities back then, leaving mom and me in our native place. There had been ample nights that I had to spend by myself all alone in our house when my mom too had to stay in her mom’s place for some reason or the other. Even otherwise, I am used to being a nocturnal specimen, enjoying reading suspense novels in the wee hours of the night. My fresher year at work was in Mangalore, a town that goes to bed by 10 PM with pin drop silence. When my roomie went on a short training trip to Mysore, I was again forced to spend three months alone. To be able to do all that, I took great precautions not to watch any horror movies that might come back to me later, at times when I cannot afford it at all.
A couple of months back, my colleague cum friend at office showed me a few clips from the Bollywood movie ‘1920’ in YouTube. I watched it under bright office lights and that too without audio. Still, I couldn’t sleep that night and kept staring at the ceiling, waiting for a ghost in white night gown to descend down and possess me any moment. During my tenure in Chennai, I happened to read a scary novel, not knowing that it was one, till 2 AM in the morning and ended up phoning my husband (my boyfriend then) and begged him to keep talking something to distract me till I go to sleep. All common sense takes flight when I am scared and I would hear my heart pounding in my ears.
I have a maternal uncle who is very good at weaving ghost stories. He articulates his stories in such style that you would get shit scared and yet the suspense element wouldn’t let you give up. Instead, it would make you long for more. He had once started one such story to us, cousins, when we were young, on our walk back home from the beach. On reaching home he dropped it abruptly and announced that the story would be continued at 11 PM on our terrace without lights. Daring kids welcome! All our pleadings didn’t change his mind and we ended up crowding and cuddling beneath his knees at midnight, listening to his narration, casting glances all around us every minute, expecting the ghosts to pop up from all corners. Here is one of his short stories for my bold blog readers.
Long long ago, in a lonely village lived a beautiful maiden with big sparkling eyes and long mane. She was heart-broken when she learnt that her lover had cheated on her and committed suicide in her own house. Years later, the same village had grown to a township and the house was renovated. A young working woman who had no tolerance for ghostly beliefs and wanted to enjoy the peace and solace of being alone occupied it. Since the day she moved in, she kept noticing unusual activities around her. She kept warding them off on various grounds but it kept haunting her time and again till she couldn’t get rid of the feeling of being pursued. Wondering if she had fallen a prey to multiple personality disorder, she went to consult a psychiatrist.
After thorough examination, her psychiatrist concluded that she was perfectly normal. He presumed that the nature of her work had put her into so much of stress that she was unnecessarily hallucinating. She was advised to take a hot water bath before going to bed as it would ease her mind and body and help a peaceful thought-free slumber. She followed her prescriptions seriously. On one no moon Friday night, she relaxed herself in her bath tub, dressed at leisure and spent minutes in front of her mirror drying her hair. Just when she was done with her grooming and about to hit the bed, she got the shock of her life and dropped down dead. Her image was still drying its hair in the mirror!
Needless to say, I didn’t look into the mirror for the next two weeks. Well, I might not have been as pro as my uncle in story telling but you get the idea, don’t you? Recalling and re-telling this story has slightly disturbed me, more so as I am alone now. Getting dressed and going out now, not to return till my husband is back from office!