by John Harker
It was chilly, and the fog was heavy. Visibility was limited to a few meters and the cold wind blew into the terminal metro station. The wind passed through her delicate body that was not well adorned with woollens. She shivered as she suddenly felt as if someone was calling her from behind. She shuddered as she had been the last one to get off the train. She did not want to turn around as all the incidents from the newspaper report of 2011 came back to her mind. She could not forget any of that for she had done a huge feature on the accident to slam the DMRC and hold them responsible for the mishap. Her rise to fame! All but an accident that killed one unfortunate man called Iyer, Krishnaprasad Iyer from Chennai. The story became so sensational that K. Hari Kumar, a Gurgaon based writer, actually weaved a whole novel around it. The book was titled, When Strangers Meet, she recalled.
She thought she heard a voice behind her again. Her heart thumped louder, her breathing got heavier until she was absolute that she had distinctly heard a voice. She stopped, closed her eyes, took a deep breath and turned around. Upon opening her eyes she saw a figure, of a man. He was bulky, tanned, and was wearing a white dhoti and shirt. All the ghosts from those horror stories she had read as a child started laughing in chorus, or so she thought.
Was this the ghost that haunted the metro station?
Was this the ghost of the man who had died in the accident, the man who was run over by a speeding metro? The man she did a story on? Her rise to fame.
Was this the ghost of Krishnaprasad Iyer?
‘Yenamma? You left your phone in the trainu. I brought it for you.’ The man spoke.
‘What?’ She tried to ask, but her voice did not let itself out of her pharynx and she squeaked like a mouse.
‘Your mobile phone,’ the man put his right hand forth.
She saw a gigantic S3 in his thick hand. She immediately recognized it as hers and gingerly took it from the mysterious South Indian ghost. Her hands were shivering out of fear.
‘Yennamma, why are you wearing no clothesu? Yit is very very coldu. Wear sweater or you will catch a coldu.’ He laughed out as if he had cracked some big joke.
Pakhi kept staring at him blankly. She regretted having done the research on the accident and on the man who died. Was she crazy or was she looking at a ghost? With a lot of effort she asked him ‘Wh… who… Who are you?’
‘My name is Iyer…’
Iyer! She thought. She knew she was certainly looking at the ghost!
‘…Ramaprasad Iyer,’ he completed.
Ramaprasad? She sighed in relief.
‘From Chennai?’ She asked, just to clarify whether he was the dead man’s ghost. ‘No no no no… From Kochi, Kerala.’ He replied.
There was silence all around and then all of a sudden her phone rang. It was her brother.
‘Hello Parosh? Yes… yes… I am here.’ She spoke even before Parosh could accuse her of being late. She looked down at her feet as she spoke.
‘You know she’s waiting for you. She does not eat, she does not sleep. I am sorry that she loves you so much. If you do not love her back, at least stop by occasionally to say you care. You are such a great actress on screen, why don’t you use some of your skills here, lady?’ came in the voice of her brother from the other end.
‘I am coming, okay? I had lost my phone, and have just got it back. Thanks to…’ She looked up assuming to find the face of the man who had found her phone. To her shock, there was no one there. Her senses betrayed her once again.
‘I…I… I have to go. Bye, tell her I love her a lot and I am on my way.’ She disconnected the call and slipped the phone into her mac case.
She looked around; there was no one there, not a single soul. The silence and the freezing chill of terror crept back in. She suddenly felt afraid, which was an unusual occurrence. In the distance, she could hear the next train arriving. She felt safe but she knew she could not hang in there for long. She started descending the escalators quickly and felt relieved upon finding a small crowd on the ground floor. She rushed outside to her car that was parked in the parking lot. She had to hurry, for someone was waiting for her.
Someone who loved her a lot.
Someone special.
Chapter 3
South City-2, Gurgaon
22:15 hours
The door-bell rang like a roaring siren and the middle aged author rushed to answer the door. He switched off the television first. Parosh had been waiting all evening for his sister to arrive but as always, he had to couple some sixty extra minutes to the clock of his expectations. He pulled down the bolt on the top right corner of the white colored door, and it opened to reveal a face. The gorgeous face of his dearest sister.
‘Piku, do you know that it is 10:15?’ Parosh threw a question that would soon lead to a series of grievances.
‘Duh, I got a watch too!’ Pakhi said showing him her wrist watch.
‘I cannot believe you would do this to her. And don’t give me your fuck-off I hate all men attitude, I am your brother. You don’t have to love me, but do give back some love for the girl who loves you more than anyone, especially when she’s going through a difficult phase.’
‘Yeah, I heard that one on the phone. I can do that if you let me in, so will you?’ She asked the obvious.
‘Of course, I do not have any choice, do I?’ Parosh turned around and moved back to the living room. ‘Lock that door. You will be staying here tonight. Okay?’
Pakhi closed the door behind her. She hated it when her brother treated her like a kid ‘Look, I am not your eight year old!’ She argued.
‘She’s nine.’ Parosh corrected.
‘Oh yes, right. Where is she?’
‘In her bedroom. She has not slept and has been waiting for her beloved aunt to make it in time on the most important day of her calendar. Little does she realize that she does not matter to you at all. All you care about is yourself and your ideals. I know you hate men, fine! But she is not one, then why do this to her?’ Parosh kept complaining as he picked up the LED television’s remote control from the dining table. He pressed the power button. The television turned on and a live coverage of the protest at India Gate showed up on the screen.
‘Oh well, I was there you know. They are all there for a girl who is fighting for her life, mistreated by a bunch of wankers. And well what do you know, you still watch that junkyHeadlines Now while your own sister is the starlet of MANORMA 24X7.’ Pakhi retorted.
. Headlines Now was MANORMA 24X7’s biggest rival when it came to channel ratings. Although both sold the same crap, it was just that HT sold news on the prime time slot through their star reporter Arunab Sardesai and his rugged looks while MANORMA 24X7 based itself solely on the gorgeous aura of Pakhi.
‘She’s waiting for you, Piku. Would you please go to her now?’ Parosh requested with clasped hands.
Pakhi pulled down the mac case’s strap and placed the bag on the dining table. She started towards the bedroom.
She had to console a sentimental heart.
Chapter 4
Shiuli Dutta was standing at the window with her elbows neatly rested on the wooden sill. Crossed were her arms and a cozy teddy bear pillowed itself between the warmth of her arms and bosom. She looked at the shining moon, wishing to find the footmarks of the one who left. Her bodily features were a blend-off of what would be priceless beauty in the coming years, soft and sharp. Raw beauty was in her genes.
The door to her room opened and Pakhi entered the moderately decorated room calling out the girl’s name ‘Shiuli, āmār princess kothay??’ She pretended as if she had not seen the little girl at the window. Pakhi walked past the bed and kneeled down next to the girl. ‘So there you are. Many happy returns of the day, Shiuli.’
‘You are late and I do not talk to late-comers.’ Shiuli replied without looking at her aunt.
‘So, my princess is angry because I am late, but Pishi was working and I lost my mobile phone in the metro. I took a while to find it.’
&n
bsp; She pulled out her phone and waved it sideward, ‘I got it though.’
She smiled hoping the girl would see the five-year old Shiuli as the wallpaper on the phone and cheer up.
The teenager completely ignored her aunt. Pakhi knew what would make this nine year old angel turn her face towards the ‘little too-late’ aunt of hers. She placed the phone on the windowsill, slipped her slender fingers into the pocket of her jeans, produced a pearl bracelet, and held it in front of the little girl, ‘Look what I have got for you, Shiuli.’
The girl did not turn around as her aunt had expected. She held her teddy bear firmly and spoke in an adjuring tone ‘You can never bring what I really want. Nobody can!’
Pakhi sighed at the girl’s unbendable wish, but there was nothing she could do about it.
‘Tūmi ki āmār mā ke enecho?’ The girl asked and turned towards her aunt. Her eyes filled with tears.
‘Shiuli… Aami jaani…’
Shiuli interrupted Pakhi ‘I know you can’t bring her back. Nobody can. You do not have to explain. I am not upset at you, Pishi, I am just missing my mother. And no gift can be as valuable as her.’
Pakhi knew what it was like being a nine year old – confused, frustrated with the changes in her body and mind. And she had hit the bottom on that fateful day of 12th January, 2012 when life struck her hard with a terrible blow. Pakhi noticed blankness in Shiuli’s eyes that were getting filled up by tears. She pulled Shiuli towards her bosom and embraced her tightly. ‘Your mother had to go because she was too dear to God.’
‘But Mom said Jesus never hurts good girls, then why did he hurt me by taking her away? Why is He so selfish?’ She complained innocently.
Pakhi might have been one of the best journalists of her time but she went speechless every time her niece spoke of her mother. She tried hard to console her,
‘Well, Jesus has his own plans,’ she remarked with the stance of an atheist. However, she could not reveal that to a believer who was brought up under the cape of Jesus. She tried to justify, ‘he always has plans.’
‘God’s plans. Yes, Mom always said that. Jesus has plans. He might be late, but He is always there when you really need Him.’ Shiuli chanted.
‘Yes dear. He is always there when you need him.’ Pakhi tried to fake some compassion.
‘Why don’t you believe in Jesus, pishi?’ She asked.
‘Err… of course I do, angel.’ Pakhi lied to the girl, suppressing her own principles about God. Pakhi had been an atheist ever since she could remember.
The grieving girl hugged her aunt, or pishi as they said in Bangla, and she felt a few teardrops on her shoulder. The teddy bear fell out of her grip and landed on the floor. Shiuli picked it up with huge amount of anxiety on her angelic face.
‘Mr. Clifford!’
She gently pressed the teddy bear’s tummy, felt the velvety sponge and spoke into the bear’s ears, ‘I am sho sholeee, are you hurt? I promise I won’t be careless again.’
Pakhi looked at her niece. She grinned and reassured her, ‘Mr. Clifford is perfectly fine dear. After all you love him so much. Look he is smiling.’
‘He is always smiling.’
‘So should you dear.’
‘Mom always said Mr. Clifford will take care of me, and that he will never let me cry.’
‘Oh, is that why he is always smiling?’
‘Yes! Jesus had asked mom her last wish and she asked Him to bless Mr. Clifford so that he takes care of me.’ Shiuli explained without the slightest of suspicions.
‘I hope he does.’
‘Can I give this bracelet to Mr. Clifford? It’s his birthday too and he never gets gifts.’ After all, Mr. Clifford came into Shiuli’s life on her last birthday as a gift from her mother. Her mother had passed away few days after that.
‘Of course, sweetheart.’ Pakhi smiled looking at her niece neatly tying the expensive bracelet around the teddy bear’s yarned neck. If that gave joy to her innocent heart, then it was truly priceless.
‘How does he look?’ Shiuli asked displaying the teddy bear upfront.
‘Oh! He looks very beautiful.’
‘Now all he needs are a pair of glasses and a walking stick.’
‘Walking stick? Why?’ Pakhi asked curiously.
‘Duh… he just fell down and he must have hurt his knee. He needs support.’
Pakhi chuckled at her niece’s prescription. ‘Of course he does!’ She had been starving since morning and so had her niece.
She asked ‘So, I heard you did not have anything for dinner, is it true?’
‘How could I eat on my birthday without my mishi kishi Pishi.’ Shiuli exclaimed in the cutest burst of laughter as she rubbed her nose on her aunt’s. Both of them had the same long pointed nose!
‘So, I am here now. Let’s feast on everything and leave nothing for grumpy daddy.’ Pakhi expressed her sarcastic humor and she lifted the girl off the floor and carried her out of the room by the hand.
The little girl burst into laughter and the country’s most feared journalist turned into the most loved aunt. Ever since Shiuli’s mother died, her entire world was built around her aunt, and Pakhi loved her niece unconditionally.
Shiuli was the most important person in Pakhi’s life.
Chapter 5
Pakhi and Parosh gathered around the dinner table and sang Happy Birthday in an uncoordinated tone while Shiuli joyously cut the small cake that Parosh had baked earlier in the evening. He loved to cook occasionally and the icing on the vanilla cake was chocolaty enough for anyone to overlook the burnt bottom. He hoped they would not notice the creativity of his absent mindedness. This ceremony was followed by a peaceful family dinner.
The dinner was followed by a late-night movie. Shiuli and Pakhi watched Pirates of the Caribbean once again. It was her favorite.
After the movie, Pakhi accompanied Shiuli to her room. She looked at the young girl who was looking out of the window once again, as she lay on her bed.
‘What happened, Mishti?’ Pakhi asked her with motherly affection.
‘Pishi, where do dead people go?’ Out came an illogical question from the girl’s curious mind.
‘Hmmm… I guess they all go to heaven.’
‘Dad says they become stars and shine on nights like this.’
‘I hope they do not become ugly creatures like Davy Jones.’ Pakhi said refering to the movie they had watched earlier.
‘Do you believe in life after death?’ Shiuli asked.
‘I am not sure, dear.’
‘They have to go somewhere. I once read in a book that those unfortunate souls who could not complete the purpose of their life become ghosts to finish their unfinished business,’ PakhiShiuli said.
‘I am sure that you read it in one of those novels by K Hari Kumar!’ Pakhi said thinking about the ghost of Krishnaprasad Iyer who visited the young boy from Gurgaon to save his dying father.
‘Why are people afraid of ghosts?’
‘Well, it is human nature to be scared of an unknown thing. For example, your dad was too scared to go to the potty alone when he was a kid. He was afraid that the potty would eat him,’ she noticed a mild smile weaving itself across the girl’s face,
‘Until my dad, that is, your grandfather locked him up inside the toilet one day. He screamed and he cried and he sulked until he wet his pants.’
Shiuli started chuckling and Pakhi continued, ‘but after spending an hour in the toilet he realized that the potty was harmless. Since then he has never been afraid.’
‘Guess, that is why he is in there all the time.’ The girl remarked chuckling aloud.
‘Well that is because your Dad has an appetite for exotic spices,’ Pakhi said giggling along with her niece.
‘So, people are afraid of ghosts because they do not know them. Is that right?’ Shiuli asked.
‘I believe so.’ Pakhi affirmed.
‘Do you think that my mother is a ghost too?’ She asked with a frown. The girl e
xpected a favorable answer.
Pakhi did not know how to answer that. She could never imagine her sister-in-law in the form of a ghost clad in a white gown with blue skin like the one in Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride. She was afraid to answer because she did not know what would help the girl sleep: a haunting ‘yes’ or a daunting ‘no’. She decided to change the subject.
‘Do you want to know the story behind your name?’
‘Yes, of course.’ the girl responded inquisitively.
‘I will tell you if you promise to sleep after this. No more questions hereafter.’ Pakhi found a quick bargain.
‘I promise!’ the girl gave her word.
‘Although she had never seen her grandfather, your mother had grown up listening to his heroics from her mother and learnt about how he wanted to name their children after flowery incense sticks. He had chosen two names, Komol if it was a boy or…’ Pakhi locked her eyes with the girl’s Brown eyes and chanted in the most endearing tone, ‘Shiuli.’
‘Shiuli… wow! I never knew that Shiuli could have been my mother’s name.’
‘When you were born, your dadu consulted an astrologer and he forbade him from christening you with a name that began with the Bangla letter sh. He said it would make you unlucky and attract ill-fated forces of nature. So we decided to name you Bela, which is the Bangla word for…’
‘But you ended up naming me Shiuli?’ the girl asked interrupting her aunt.
‘Yes. Your dad is a guy with a modern outlook, who at that time was an ardent activist for liberal thoughts and made the final call against the wishes of his own father.’
‘I love my daddy!’ Shiuli exclaimed.
‘Of course he is adorable, Shiuli.’ Pakhi said and smiled at her niece.
‘I am going to tell this to Mary and Taniya right away.’ She picked up her iPhone and started texting her besties.
Pakhi took away the iPhone and said, ‘I kept my promise and now you must keep yours too. Time to sleep dear. You can message them tomorrow.’ Pakhi got up and kissed Shiuli on her forehead.