by John Harker
‘Shut up!’ Nissar punched his handgun’s butt on his cheek, right where his dimple formed.
‘Mr. Varma, I beg you…’ said Pakhi.
‘One more word from any of you and I will shoot her right away, do you want that?’ Nissar warned.
‘However, I am surprised. How did you figure out about me? Was it the coin? The reports were all fake and misleading, so no chance of that. Was it the limp?’ He chuckled, ‘But I am very curious to know how you found out about the woman. Especially someone whom I thought was dead, someone so inaccessible. How were you led to her? I am sure that Granny did not tell you the story of Grandpa’s murder for bedtime, right, sweety?’ He asked Shiuli.
‘Didima did not tell me that story.’ Shiuli spoke slowly.
‘Oh is it, then who did?’
‘I did…’ a glorious voice boomed in a British accent.
A bolt of lightning enlightened the entire sky and the shuddering clouds laughed out in chorus.
Varma felt a chill pass down through his nerves as he turned around to witness the specter of glowing whiteness right behind him. Varma lost his voice in the shock. Pakhi saw what she had expected and therefore relief struck her, which was soon to be followed by excitement, while Parosh and Iyer conjoined in fear. The old woman could not believe her eyes; she recognized the voice as well as the face beneath the lustrous glow.
‘Mr. Clifford, take him down.’ Shiuli exclaimed in joy.
Nissar loaded the gun and sneaked towards Shiuli to hold her at gunpoint when he felt his legs carried away into thin air. Within the matter of seconds, Nissar was hanging upside down from the roof, surrounded by glowing little creatures.
Shiuli waved at the magical fireflies.
‘Wha… what do… do you want?’ the tainted minister asked.
‘That…’ the ghost of Richard said claiming the silvery object in the minister’s hand, ‘…coin is mine.’
Varma loosened his hand and the ghost took away the coin.
‘You do not deserve this coin. You are an unworthy soul.’ The ghost’s tone was that of anger, hatred and vengeance. The sea rose in wrath and the rain blew an inferno of frozen vapor as the ghost lifted the minister by his collar and carried him outside through the entrance door.
The thunderous raindrops clapped against each other and pierced through the minister’s body.
‘You forced helpless women to take their lives; you showed dominance over the weak. You shameless swine. You call yourself worthy of a nationalistic cause. Go back in the past and visit the rhymes of Bhagat Singh and the likes.’ He bore his fist into the minister’s arm and it passed through the physical realms of his body. Varma cried in great pain.
‘Does it hurt? If it does, then you are a coward. If it didn’t then I will hurt you even more.’ The ghost stated.
‘Let me go!’ Varma pleaded.
‘Wrong answer!’ This time the ghost punched him on the other arm, ‘Come on, yes or no?’
The minister yelled in response. The ghost pushed him to the edge of the cliff in the rain, the minister froze.
The ghost raised its fist to punch in through Varma’s chest when the old woman rushed in to stop the ghost.
‘Please, I beg of you. Please, do not punish this sinner and be a sinner yourself. Let him be left to the law. The sinner’s fate shall be decided by God.’ The old woman requested. Drops of rain fell on her.
Richard’s ghost looked into the eyes of his wife. They were old but full of courage. But Richard knew more about God. He said, ‘Justice? Human justice is benevolent, my love; this swine deserves justice at the gates of hell.’
‘I thought you never believed in Hell?’
‘My dear, I never believed in things that I did not see. But I have seen life after death, and I believe in those that one would never believe in.’ the ghost spoke like a philosopher. ‘There are hundreds of blood thirsty souls awaiting his arrival here, I know of them for I have seen them there.’ He added, ‘I can see them now, waiting for me to strike the last blow.’
Thunder growled and the wild dogs howled. The dark clouds gobbled the only source of light, the moon.
‘You simply cannot do away with all the sins you committed in your life by turning into a new leaf. That thing called destiny is a strict auditor. It accounts for everything you do and that you deserve. You lived too long and mostly in power. Now you will face the darker side of the coin. Every face has a darker side, but it is the human who decides if he wishes to adorn that face or not, not destiny or fate. You had the chance, but you chose it late, too late. You face the charges of slaying women, promoting greed, bribing power and most of all, of separating two souls forever. Depending on fate or chance will only mislead one to the extremes, I am a perfect example.’
He raised his fist for the final blow when a furious Nissar came charging towards the ghost. Nissar, with the foolhardiness action, passed through the ghost and uncontrollably collided into the minister and the two of them rolled off the cliff and fell down on to the hard rocks at the bottom of the cliff.
The ghost and his living wife witnessed the fall from the edge of the cliff.
Upon hitting the rocks, Varma and Nissar died on the spot. Their death was followed by an outburst of crackling laughter of a hundred doomed souls that had been waiting this glorious day when their hunter would fall prey to his own trap.
‘God has His plans.’ The old woman, Lavanya, preached.
‘A man writes his own destiny and pays for his sins.’ The ghost pronounced.
Richard’s ghost looked at the woman whose wrinkled fair face garnered little droplets of rain. It reminded him of their youth, the first time they had danced in the rain together. Seventy winters ago, perhaps. Now, the rain started slowing down and the clouds shifted apart to reveal the shining lunar marvel, the moon.
‘What happened that night?’ The ghost asked eagerly.
‘I jumped into the sea; I thought I would end my life instead of giving my body to a man whom I did not love. However, when I woke up, I saw an angel; she was young and glorified by a lucent aura of the divine. I thought I was in heaven, but then I realized I had not died and that Sisters of Loreto had spotted my body floating in the sea on a shore to the north of this city. I did not have anywhere to go; I served the sisters during their stay in Kerala and found myself influenced by the preaching of the angel who saved me. She was a teacher, a friend, a mother and a benevolent giver who only knew to love selflessly. Under her guidance, I found my lost God. When I was preparing to join the sisters I learnt that I was three months pregnant with our child.’
‘Our child?’ the ghost asked with the zeal of a child.
‘Yes, a beautiful daughter.’ She revealed.
‘Like you?’
Lavanya chose to answer with an affirming smile for she did not want to reveal the sad truth that her daughter had passed away few years ago.
‘I needed more time and soon all of us moved back to Kolkata where the angel I told you about initiated a small diocesan congregation called Missionaries of Charity. We had just one purpose, to serve the poorest of the poor. I raised my daughter simultaneously as I served my cause. And after she got married to a fine gentleman, I joined the nuns as one of them. The angel, whom the world now knows as Mother Teresa, gave me the name Marie, because she said that I reminded her of the courage and warmth symbolized by the mother of God.’ She paused to look at her husband’s face, a pleasant grin was evident. ‘I know you do not believe in God.’
‘I believe in you, my dear love…’ he said and heard Shiuli running towards them. Looking at the beautiful little girl, he realized that all this while he had been with his own great granddaughter. He said, ‘…and every once in a while, I like to believe in that thing called destiny.’
The rain had stopped completely and under the spell of bright moonlight, the young Shiuli looked exactly like her great grandmother, Lavanya, in her younger days. The ghost of Richard Baxter kneeled down and held his kin
by the arms. His eyes filled up.
‘Thank you Mr. Clifford.’ She said.
‘Do you know that, I am your great grandfather?’ He asked proudly.
The little girl nodded.
‘You look just like your great grandmother.’
‘So they say.’ She looked at Didima who was smiling back at her. She locked her gaze on the ghost and asked, ‘So I guess it is back to the stars then?’
‘I am so grateful to you and your aunt, dad,’ he glanced at the two, ‘and you too Mr. Iyer, sorry for troubling you with the chandelier.’ He said to Iyer who was yet to come out of the shock. ‘Nobody is going to bother you again. This house is free from ghastly visitors; it is the humans you better watch out for.’
‘Do you really have to leave?’ Shiuli asked
‘I am afraid my child, I have to. My purpose has been fulfilled and my soul is not needed on this planet anymore.’
‘I wish you could stay with us, with Didima.’ She said tearfully as he pressed her teddy into her tenderly blossoming bosom.
‘I want you to promise something. Please give this Mr. Clifford a place in your heart forever. And that Mr. Clifford,’ he said pointing at the teddy bear, ‘must be allotted a permanent place in your shelf. I know it means a lot to you, it reminds you of your mother but then you must realize that whatever happens, one must move on in life.’
He looked up at his wife, ‘Look at your great granny. She lost everything twice, but she never lost the courage to fight. She would have jumped into the pyre of her first husband had she been a coward, but she dared to take a risk and walked past the barriers of superstitions and into the life of a total stranger. Her courage was the one thing that made me fall in love with this woman. She fought against all odds, raised your mother all alone, so that she could give birth to a jewel like you.’ He said turning back to Shiuli,
‘I want you to be courageous. I am not sure how much the world has changed, but sadly, it is still governed by people who like to keep you under wraps. I want you to follow your heart and change that condition forever. Be a woman like your great grandmother.’
Shiuli nodded in agreement.
‘Is that a promise?’
‘Yes!’ Shiuli confirmed.
‘I am leaving a gift for you.’
‘Wow, what is it?’ the nine-year-old jumped up in excitement.
‘You’ll know, and time will tell. Be courageous and use it the right way, my darling.’ He said and gave a gentle peck on his granddaughter’s cheek and rose up.
Pakhi and Parosh also came closer.
‘Take care of my lovely child; do not make me come back again.’ Richard’s ghost warned Parosh and Pakhi jokingly. Shiuli chuckled softly and joined her father and aunt. Meanwhile, the ghost of Richard Baxter, who had started glowing again, inched closer to his living wife. Her eyes sparkled under the enhanced moonlight.
‘What is it?’ she asked, her voice quivered with age, but they were still as sweet as they were before.
‘The fireflies, I do not understand. What were they doing there in the cellar?’ Richard inquired rubbing his brow.
Lavanya skipped the look in his eyes and ran a smirk on her face.
‘Tell me.’ He pressed.
‘I was a student of arts. I discontinued my studies after my first marriage.’
‘Yes, you told me that, I can remember. But did not I ask you to continue your academic pursuits after marrying me?’
‘Yes, you did. When you were travelling across India between 1946 and 1948, I had developed a craze for the works of Caravaggio. It is believed that he used powder of dried fireflies to create photosensitive canvases. I wanted to try something similar, so I caught those fireflies, collected them in jars, and kept them in the cellar. However, I realize now, how wrong I had been. I did not have any right to keep those poor creatures captive. Maybe that is why God made me long for you this way.’
‘I think that God made you do that so that they could give me company while I was stuck in here for sixty-five years.’ He evinced his pleasure by smiling, and then he sighed and said, ‘I must go now,’ he said rising in the air, ‘would you like to come with me?’
‘Why do you give me more than one choice every time?’ she complained looking up at him, ‘It’s high time that you started making decisions for us.’ As she was speaking, she felt a tingling sensation in her stomach. She was being raised off the ground, surrounded cautiously by magical fireflies. She exclaimed, ‘Oh my God, they are…’
‘Yes, the fireflies that burned with me.’ He said taking her arms in his, he noticed that they had grown very old and weak, while his were still as strong as a young man’s.
‘I missed you a lot.’ Lavanya said dropping a tear from her left eye, and that was all she could shed.
‘Not any more, darling.’ The ghost wiped off the tear.
The two smiled at each other, and the scene touched the mortal spectators on the ground. Pakhi started having second thoughts about having a relationship again in her life. The ghost held his wife’s hand some fifteen feet above the ground, and the magical fireflies revolved around them keeping them from falling. If anything happened between the two, then it was the flow of pure love, the one that lasted forever and ever and the everafter. Lavanya closed her eyes, inched closer to her husband and kissed him on the lips. The ghost’s aura illuminated to a maximum and a blinding whiteness filled the night sky for a moment.
The light had gone away, so had the ghost and the fireflies. Everyone looked at the miracle in astonishment and then Shiuli saw her first and screamed in grief. Pakhi, Parosh and Iyer also saw and rushed towards her.
There it lay on the ground, right below where the extraordinary couple had been floating, the lifeless body of an aged woman whose courage and beauty was admired by many.
Shiuli burst into tears and so did Pakhi. Iyer touched the woman’s feet. Parosh lifted his daughter up and put his arm around her. They all observed a minute of silence, praying for her soul’s peace.
Lavanya Ghosh Baxter had at last found her husband, and Richard Baxter had found his wife, and in some world beyond the reach of the mortal, they lived happily ever after
Epilogue
Rajpath, New Delhi
29th December 2013
‘In the saddest of hours, early in the morning, a fighting woman lost her life to the physical torment inflicted upon her by beastly beings. The protestors are observing a mass silence right now. The death has not extinguished the fire but what you see is the calm before the storm. The youth has been shaken, questions have been raised, and it is justice that they seek. Meanwhile the young protestors are still waiting for their trusted leader, Jagannatha Varma, to comment on this critical situation. However, following his assassination attempt, the minister has gone underground. There are rumors that the country’s favorite prime ministerial candidate has committed suicide after losing his sanity. What has happened to Jagannatha Varma? That is another question waiting to be answered, with cameraman, Gobind Singh Kahlon; this is Pakhi Dutta for MANORMA 24X7 24x7.’ The journalist looked very tired as she unstrapped the lapel from her jacket’s collar. She passed it on to Gobind and moved to the back of her crew van.
She saw her niece, all dressed in black. She looked tired after the late night flight but insisted on accompanying her aunt to the protest. However, something else seemed to be bothering her.
Pakhi’s cellphone rang. It was her editor. She answered immediately, ‘Yes, Ma’am.’
‘Very touching lines.’ The woman praised in a thick voice.
‘Thank you. Ma’am’ Pakhi said.
‘Are you ready with the Jagannatha story?’ the editor asked without wasting a second.
Pakhi sighed and then tried to evade the question, ‘I… I need some time.’
‘You said you will be giving me an exclusive.’ The editor’s tone changed.
‘I did, but…’
‘Pakhi, I do not know what is wrong with you. You know how we
work, don’t you? We cannot fall prey to emotions. Look at this rape incident, we projected it so sensationally that today the entire country is mourning a person’s death who was unknown to them previously.’ The editor paused and then said emphasizing, ‘Our ratings have shot up like a rocket. We need such stories, and we make epics out of such stories. Emotions need not be involved. We make Heroes out of Nobodies!’
Pakhi looked at the young men and women who had come all the way from cities and towns, far and near, in support of an innocent soul, protesting against the feeble status of womanhood, and seeking justice for the harmed and unarmed. And here was a recognized personality, awarded with the fourth highest civilian award, above all a woman herself, brushing aside basic human emotions to sustain a brand value defined by hypocritical ethics.
‘Are you listening to me, Pakhi Dutta?’ the editor came in.
‘No… I am not.’
‘Ok, I am going to say this one more time then…’
Pakhi interrupted her boss, ‘No, I meant that I am not listening to you again, ever. I quit!’ and she hung up the phone. She took a decision that would affect her entire career, something she had been working so hard for all these years. However, she took courage as she remembered the words of Richard Baxter’s ghost.
Whatever happens, one must move on in life. He had said to Shiuli the night before when they were in Kerala. I want you to be courageous. I am not sure how much the world has changed, but sadly, it is still governed by people who like to keep you under wraps. I want you to follow your heart and change that condition forever. Be a woman like your great grandmother.
Pakhi turned around but Shiuli was not standing where she had last seen her. It was a massive crowd and if lost, it would be difficult to find her. Of course, she was not a toddler anymore; she knew the place well and could find her way back home. Pakhi rowed through people looking for her niece. She asked a couple of people, but they had not seen the missing girl. Pakhi dialled Shiuli’s number on her cellphone, but her number could not connect. She pushed away a couple of boys in a desperate attempt to move through the crowd. Her eyes filled up. She moved out of the commotion to a sparsely filled area on the Rajpath. She sat down on a bench and started weeping.
