Spooky Stories

by Tanushree Podder

  A fruit vendor passed by and some people rushed to buy the bananas he was selling. ‘Bhai, can you tell us the way to the railway station?’ asked Kanshi Ram. He planned to reach the station so they could take the first train that left for Patna.

  ‘Why do you want to go to the railway station?’ asked the vendor.

  ‘We want to go back to our village.’

  ‘Don’t you know that a lockdown has been declared? Neither buses nor trains will be running from today.’

  The news sent a ripple of uneasiness through the crowd. If there were no trains and buses, how would they travel?

  ‘How long is the lockdown?’ asked someone.

  ‘It is for a fortnight,’ replied the vendor, preparing to leave the place.

  ‘A fortnight!’ It couldn’t be true. How were they expected to fend for themselves? They had been abandoned without any arrangements.

  ‘Can you suggest a place where we can spend the night?’ someone asked the vendor.

  ‘What’s wrong with the ground? It is huge enough for all of you. All I can say is that this is an army area, so be careful. They won’t allow anyone to loiter in this area,’ cautioned the vendor.

  ‘What about the bungalow across the road?’ Kanshi Ram wanted to know. ‘I was exploring the area and saw a dilapidated, double-storied bungalow with a huge compound. We could spend the night there.’

  ‘Are you mad or do you have a death wish?’ laughed the vendor. ‘That bungalow is haunted. The locals avoid walking on the road in the front of house after dark.’

  ‘How do they know it is haunted?’ asked Kanshi Ram, who did not believe in ghosts. ‘Has anyone seen the ghost?’

  ‘There are many stories about the place, bhai. Some people have claimed to have seen a woman in red clothes. She sits on the terrace, as though waiting for someone. Locals have seen four men sitting around a table with a candle lighted in the centre. Whatever be the story, one thing that remains unchanged is that there are ghosts in that bungalow. Why else would it be lying vacant for so many years? Don’t forget it is located in a prime location, with the Wheeler Club next door.’

  ‘I am from a village where ghost stories can be found around every corner. Every old house and ruined structure is supposed to be haunted,’ said Kanshi Ram. ‘Yet, I have never come across a single ghost in all the years I spent in the village.’

  ‘Well, it is up to you. Whether you believe in ghosts or not, it will be good for you to keep away from that house.’

  Kanshi Ram was not convinced. All he wanted was a safe and comfortable place to spend the night. The open ground with a large number of people, all stretched in various stages of slumber, did not look inviting. The stories about ghosts had somehow made him more determined to explore the sprawling grounds around the house.

  Instructing his wife and Kallu to wait, he crossed the road and halted before the dilapidated bungalow.

  The rusted iron gate was open. Cautiously, he walked into the sprawling compound fronting the double-storied bungalow. The grounds were thickly wooded with mango and jackfruit trees on one side of the bungalow. A huge banyan tree stood on the other side. The bungalow, with broken doors and windows, stood forlornly at the centre of the grounds. With its plaster peeling, trees having taken root in the crumbling walls and the wood rotting, the house was now a gloomy place. It looked like the set for a horror movie.

  It must have been an impressive structure at one time, but spiders, rats and bats were the only residents of the bungalow now.

  Kanshi Ram walked into the room. Dark and squalid, it had probably been used by drunkards and the homeless. Broken glass pieces, plaster and rat droppings were scattered on the floor. The foul smell made it impossible to remain in the room and he rushed out for a breath of fresh air. Would it be possible to spend the night on the broken, rubble-covered veranda, he wondered. No, he decided, it was better to be sleeping under a tree.

  ‘Did you find a suitable spot to spend the night?’ asked his wife when he returned.

  ‘I think so.’ Kanshi Ram did not tell her about the ghost stories told by the vendor.

  ‘Won’t it be better if Ramlal and his family come with us?’ she whispered. ‘The place looks isolated.’

  Ramlal agreed to accompany them to the bungalow. A few minutes later, both the families crossed the road and walked into the bungalow. It was reassuring to have some company, thought Kanshi Ram.

  Ramlal was a warm and friendly man, and so were his wife and mother. They happily shared the snacks they were carrying.

  ‘Don’t hesitate,’ said Ramlal’s mother, as she offered the puffed rice and a piece of jaggery to Kanshi Ram’s wife. ‘These are tough times and the only way we will survive is by helping each other.’

  Pointing at the tin of puffed rice, Ramlal said, ‘My mother never travels without food. In fact, she has enough to feed a battalion.’

  ‘You realize the true value of food only after you have survived floods and famines,’ snorted his mother.

  They shared the frugal meal and then Kanshi Ram and his family moved to the rear portion of the grove. He wanted to keep a distance from the bungalow. His wife cleared a part of the ground under a mango tree and spread a sheet for them to lie on. Ramlal’s family made themselves comfortable under another tree at a little distance from the bungalow. There was not much traffic on the roads and not a soul could be seen around. The only source of light was the street lights, but the thick foliage of the trees blocked out most of it.

  The two families were joined by some more people, who spread themselves out at a discreet distance from each other. Everyone took care to ensure that they remained within hearing distance and visual contact of each other. Exhausted, everyone settled down for the night. With food, water and money in short supply, no one knew what the next morning held for them.

  It was past midnight and everyone was fast asleep. Kanshi Ram’s wife nudged him awake, saying she wanted to relieve herself. ‘I am scared,’ she whispered. ‘Will you come with me?’

  ‘With so many people camped in the premises, there’s nothing to be scared of. Don’t venture out too far. Just go around the broken wall of the bungalow,’ he muttered sleepily. ‘I will keep an eye on you.’

  She got up and walked towards the bungalow. The place was in total darkness. The eerie rustling of the wind made her shiver with fright. There was a flutter of wings as she walked to the other side of the bungalow. ‘It’s probably an owl or a bat,’ she thought. Shuddering, she quickly relieved herself and began walking back towards the mango tree where her family was sleeping.

  As she passed the veranda, she spotted some shadows. She gasped as she spotted four men seated around a table, drinking. The flame of a candle flickered around them. Terrified, she backed away. A twig crackled under her feet and the men looked in her direction. A tingle of fear ran down her spine and she stumbled. Four pairs of hollow eyes stared at her from skeletal faces, their mouths agape. She saw them pointing their bony, luminous fingers at her before beckoning her to come closer. She could now see that their eyes were mere black sockets.

  In the growing mist that surrounded the bungalow, she saw them advancing. The scream that rose up to her throat died down without a sound and she stumbled backwards, falling over the roots of a dead tree. They continued to advance.

  She panicked. Shouting and screaming, she began to run. Stumbling and falling, she made her way towards the mango tree. Her hair dishevelled, her sari trailing behind her, she ran like a mad woman.

  Kanshi Ram was fast asleep, but Ramlal was lying awake and heard the screams. He got up with a start. Creeping to the nearest group of men, he prodded them awake. Gesturing to them to remain silent, he pointed in the direction of the rundown bungalow. They rubbed the sleep out of their eyes and stared at the woman in red.

  ‘It must be the ghost,’ whispered Ramlal and the others nodded. They had all heard the vendor cautioning about the ghost in red. Breaking some branches from the mango trees, the men
walked cautiously towards the woman in red, who was running towards them. Without waiting for any explanation, they pounced on her with sticks and stones and whatever they could lay their hands on.

  They continued till the half-dead woman ran into the bungalow and locked herself inside the hall. Satisfied that they were safe, the men walked back to their families. The ghost in red would trouble them no longer.

  Kanshi Ram, who had heard the commotion, woke up and asked what had happened.

  ‘It’s nothing! It’s all taken care of, don’t worry,’ said Ramlal. ‘Go back to sleep.’

  Kanshi Ram noticed his wife and son lying near him and heaved a sigh of relief.

  ‘When did you get back?’ he asked his wife. ‘I didn’t notice you returning.’

  ‘You were fast asleep, so I didn’t want to wake you,’ she replied.

  There was a sudden coldness around him. He hugged himself for warmth and looked at his sleeping son.

  ‘Did you see anything while near the bungalow?’ he asked sleepily. ‘I thought I had heard some sounds.’

  ‘No, I didn’t see anything,’ said his wife, smiling.

  ‘I wonder what the hullabaloo was about?’ he asked. ‘I must have slept through the excitement.’

  ‘You didn’t miss anything. It was just Ramlal and some men. Those men thought they had seen a ghost. It was so funny.’ She threw him a strange smile.

  ‘She never smiles like that,’ mused Kanshi.

  She crept closer to Kallu, and clutched him tightly. ‘It must be the ghosts in the house.’ She laughed. It was a high-pitched and unpleasant sound.

  The boy woke up, frightened. ‘Why are you laughing?’ he asked. There was something different about his mother. Her red sari was looking brighter and her eyes matched the red. Her fingers were long and bony.

  ‘Are you alright? Kanshi Ram asked. He was fully awake now. He had also noticed the difference in his wife. ‘Is everything okay?’

  ‘Yes, I am alright and everything is just the way it should be,’ she mumbled.

  ‘Don’t go near the bungalow,’ he warned. ‘I will be happy to get out of this spooky place. I don’t believe in ghosts, but there is something wrong with the bungalow.’

  ‘You are right!’ she giggled happily. ‘There is something wrong with the bungalow. That’s why I won’t be going back there.’

  At the crack of dawn, the men and their families walked towards the highway. An hour later, they were gathered by the police and taken to a quarantine centre.

  It would be a long time before they got back home.

  In the meantime, the police received several complaints about a foul smell coming from the bungalow. On searching the premises, they found the decomposed body of a woman.

  She was dressed in red.’

  7

  THE DANCING GHOSTS OF THE FORBIDDEN CITY

  There was a brief silence after the story ended. Anirudh felt stifled in the heavy atmosphere in the room. He wished the night would end.

  ‘Do you believe in ghosts, now?’ the jeweller asked Anirudh.

  ‘These incredible stories will not make me believe in ghosts,’ Anirudh shook his head adamantly.

  ‘Let me tell you my story and then you can decide whether ghosts exist or not.’ The girl called Mala began narrating her story.

  ‘I work as a photojournalist. My work requires me to travel to different parts of the country. Apart from these work-related trips, I like to travel to far-off countries for a holiday.

  I love travelling and always travel solo. There’s not a year when I have not taken off on a trip. I have a bucket-list and I tick off the places I cover. Each of my trips has seen meticulous planning and a detailed itinerary. Through the year, I scrimp and save money so I can spend two or three weeks travelling.

  I have always been interested in the history, culture and architecture of China. There’s something utterly mysterious about that country. The seeds of that love were sown the day I began reading books written by Pearl S. Buck.

  Although I had been planning to for a long time, the opportunity to travel to that country came about three years back. One of the foreign media companies for which I freelanced wanted me to do a photo-feature on Beijing. It was a dream come true. I decided to extend my stay in China, so I could visit the other parts on my own.

  I planned a tour of the Great Wall of China, Tiananmen Square and the Forbidden City, as well as a trip to see the Terracotta Army and many other places. These were places I had read about and the thought of visiting them filled me with excitement.’

  ‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ interrupted the soldier. ‘This session is about ghost stories. If you are going to tell us about the tourist places in China, we are not interested.’

  ‘Patience, my dear friend,’ responded the girl. ‘My story is about ghosts, only the setting is in China.’

  ‘You may continue,’ said the jeweller encouragingly.

  ‘This incident took place in the Forbidden City at Beijing. I had planned to spend an entire day to cover the place and shoot as many pictures as I could,’ Mala resumed her story.

  ‘Before I narrate my experience in the palace complex, let me give you a little background of the place, so you can visualize the setting. The palace complex, built in 1420, is the largest one in the world. It is impossible to imagine its vastness until one sees the place. The entire area that consists of 980 buildings took fourteen years and more than a million workers to complete. The Forbidden City served as a residence for twenty-four emperors spanning over five centuries. I am sure each one of them would have added something special to the complex.

  With its huge and elegant palaces, temples, libraries, galleries and arenas, the complex is a city in itself. Each of the buildings was a treasure house of art, sculpture and artefacts. Chinese urns, porcelain, jade and jewels – the adornments were unparalleled during the Ming and Qing period. Remnants of beauty are visible even today. The streams, parks, pavilions and gardens never fail to impress the visitors who flock to the palaces every day.

  Since these were the residential quarters of the ruling dynasty, common people had been barred from entering the place. So, people named it The Forbidden City.

  For long, I had been dreaming of visiting the place. In fact, the two things on top of my list of must-visits were the Great Wall of China and the Forbidden City. So, that morning when I finally stood inside the huge complex, I felt as though I had entered a fairy tale.

  Among everything I had read about the Forbidden City was a story about the ghosts that lived in the complex. Palaces are a place of intrigue. There are always myths and fables attached to them. People have been imprisoned, tortured and killed within the walls of many forts and palaces. Plots have been hatched and concubines poisoned. There are always stories of those tortured souls haunting the palaces.

  So, I was not surprised when I read that there were ghosts in the Forbidden City. On my agenda were two things – to shoot photographs for the photo-feature, and ascertain the presence of ghosts in the complex. The first one was for work and the second was something I wanted to find out for myself.

  That morning, I joined the swarms of tourists visiting the palace complex. Enchanted by the beautiful structures, I wanted to click photographs of every nook and corner. The Forbidden City has been photographed and written about hundreds of times by different people. I was determined to capture some unique aspects that would make my feature different.

  Certain parts of the complex had been cordoned off and tourists were not allowed to visit those parts. I planned to sneak into the prohibited areas to photograph them. There were secret passages, courtyards and rooms that weren’t open to the public. According to a report I had read, about one-third of the ancient imperial complex had been barred by the government.

  Over the years, the locked parts of the complex have drawn a lot of interest from people. The mystery connected with them has resulted in many rumours. These parts are reported to be haunted.


  Although I didn’t believe in ghosts, the idea of photographing the secret parts of the palaces had an irresistible appeal. Several guards in the complex had spoken about the ghosts they had encountered from time to time. Some had sighted weeping women in white clothes, while others had seen soldiers dressed in the imperial uniform of the ancient times. There had been a few rumours of the sound of a flute being heard in the empty complex after dark. Various stories describe people having seen the ghosts of laughing women, screaming concubines and sword wielding soldiers.

  With over six hundred years of history and intrigue, there had to be as many interesting stories. Although I had read about the place, the descriptions of the complex had not done it justice. Pushed and jostled by the tourists, I stood spellbound by the beauty around me.

  It was clear to me that the large number of people visiting the place were going to be a hindrance to my work. I couldn’t compose a single frame without someone sauntering into it. Most didn’t bother to move away even when I requested them to do so. Everyone was busy posting or shooting selfies. Yet, I had to do my job.

  The only way to do so would be to hang around after everyone had left the complex. That way, I could shoot undisturbed and maybe even meet a ghost or two.

  The thought of narrating an untold story through my photographs was an exciting one. I had a high-end camera that could shoot well in low light and at night. Over the past few years, I had learnt many tricks to shoot photographs in confined spaces as well as vast open ones. As a result, I was confident of being able to click excellent photographs.

  Anyway, it was close to evening. Soon, the tourists would be hustled out of the complex by the umpteen guards. My plan was to somehow slip into a deserted part and remain hidden till everyone had left the complex. Once the place had been locked up for the night, I would emerge from my hiding place and start clicking photographs. The gorgeous full moon that was beaming down from the sky would ease my work.

  A few minutes before closing time, visitors began trooping out of the complex. There was a melee as guides with flags mounted atop sticks began gathering the tourists around them. A confused babble could be heard everywhere as people ran helter-skelter, trying to locate their groups. Guards began hurrying people on their way.