by Neil D'Silva
“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, a
fter 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 stern-faced 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 never 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. Re
member 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.
