The Ghost of Dona Paula – II

As she sat behind Josh on his Royal Enfield, she felt a pang of conscience, asking her what on earth was she going to do. Going with a stranger to a strange place in a strange city, it didn’t seem like a good idea after all. But fighting the emotions, she told herself she was going to be fine. Josh seemed to be a nice person. Besides, that’s what she had come here for, to get away from her past and to enjoy the moment, regardless of the consequences.

As they passed through the Miramar circle, Yashasvi laid her eyes upon the Unity Statue one more time. She had visited Miramar beach earlier that morning and didn’t like it much. Now watching this statue, she once again shifted her thoughts to the myth of Dona Paula that Josh told her minutes ago. The statue of Dona Paula looked old and scruffy. Even the Unity Statue looked better than that. Yet, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Could this be true? That the spirit of Paula wandered the Jetty, still searching for her one true love.

Minutes after leaving the Jetty, she discovered that tomorrow is going to be a full moon night. And although she also felt an urge to visit this place tomorrow, she didn’t express it.

After a few minutes, Yashasvi caught the first glimpse of the Mandovi river bathed in Sunlight. The refreshing coastal breeze hit her body in soft splashes, cooling down her anxiety levels and filling her with a vibrant zeal. On her way, the sight of cruise casinos drew her attention and she wondered if that’s where Josh was taking her. Josh, however, didn’t slow down at any of the Casino terminals. After another ten minutes as the bike approached the Mandovi Bridge, he slowed the motorcycle and took a left toward what seemed like another cruise terminal. A colorful sign of Boat Cruises De Goa welcomed them as they parked the bike in a gravel parking area.

The port was overflowing with tourists. There were hundreds of them, waiting in long queues to board their boats. Yashasvi spotted several river cruises at the port, Paradise, Santa Monica, Coral Queen, and Princesa. Josh, however, walked further and further, passing by all these cruises and never stopping at one.

“Where are we going?” asked Yashasvi. “We just passed by the last cruise terminal. Is there a different entry point?”

“Not really. It’s not a cruise actually,” he replied. “My friend, Lucas’ gig is on a Yacht. Just a five-minute walk from here.”

“Oh, alright then,” she said. “But all those cruises also looked nice.”

“Trust me,” he laughed. “You don’t want to be on any of ‘em. They’re all so crowded, brimming with locals and Indian tourists.”

“I see, so you don’t like Indian tourists, do you?”

“It’s not like I don’t like ‘em,” he was quick with the reply. In fact, it’s my job to train these Indian tourists, who come to experience Flyboarding in North Goa. I just don’t like the way they celebrate or party. I mean I don’t have any problem with that either, but I wouldn’t like to indulge in those parties, it’s a different way of thinking, that’s it.

“That’s pretty honest of you,” she smiled.

“And besides, you’ll mostly find married Indian couples on those cruises, who have come here on their honeymoon. All they’re going to do is getting sloshed and dance to the tunes of Indian music. Oh, and yeah, there’s a couple of folk dance activities also, in case you are interested in the Goan culture.

“And what about this Yacht you are taking me to?” she asked. “How is it different from all those cruises?”

“It’s different in every way,” was the answer. “You’ll find out pretty soon. See that white-colored catamaran over there? That’s where we are headed.”

Yashasvi saw the yacht, just a few meters away. It was a miniature motorcar-styled boat, nearly half the size of the smallest cruise on the port. As they approached the gates, the sun was right above their head. The area was almost vacant, just a couple of guards and a few foreigners standing outside the boarding gate. The guard asked for the invitation card which they weren’t carrying, so Josh had to call his friend Lucas who sent a man to receive them.

The boat departed five minutes after they boarded. There were close to 50 people on the yacht, most of them were Germans, Russians, and Portuguese. There were a handful of Indians as well, Yashasvi recognized one from the TV serial her mom used to watch. It was a multi-level private yacht owned by a Portuguese millionaire, Rodrigo Costas Da Luz. The yacht was a little bigger in size than the ones you would occasionally spot in Mumbai. It had a vibrant charm and you could sense royalty in every corner. The intricate designs, plush floor mats, exuberant furniture, and huge glass windows, providing a startling view of the Mandovi river. To Yashasvi, it was a feast for the eyes.

“Yashhvi, meet my friend Lucas,” Josh said as he waved. “Hey Luke!!”

“Ahh, look who’s here,” Lucas smirked. “Endlich Zeit, deinen alten Freund zu sehen?” he spoke in German.

“Ja, ich war zwischen Arambol und Chapora gefangen,” Josh replied. “Ich hatte kaum Zeit, irgend wohin zu gehen.”

Anyways, Luke, meet my friend Yashhvi,” he said, still not able to pronounce her name correctly.

“Ahh beautiful girl,” Lucas replied. “Herrlich. Herrlich.”

“Luke,” he extended his hand.

“Yashasvi,” she shook hands with Lucas.

“Jashhvi?” he looked baffled.

“No it’s Ya-sha-svi,” she made it easy for him to understand.

“Yashhvi?” he tried. “Is that correct?”

“No, but that’s also fine,” she laughed. “I’m getting used to it now.”

“Alright, schönes Mädchen,” he said. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. You guys want to go upstairs to watch the sunset? Oh, and have some champaign guys, look around you,” he said as he took one glass from the slab to his right.

“Yeah, we’d love to,” Josh replied as he took two glasses and offered one to Yashasvi.

“Awesome, I’ll see you upstairs then, in five minutes,” said Lucas as he left.

As they went upstairs, the sun began to show its magical display of colors. The uppermost deck or the Sun deck was relatively small. It housed a tiny bar, a small dining area, and a miniature version of Jacuzzi. Down below was the fore deck’s exterior space containing a slightly bigger dining area, a few sunbeds, a pool, and yet another minibar. It also featured a 55 inches TV screen that played a live soccer match between Real Madrid and Manchester United. A handful of Portuguese could be seen below cheering for their star player, Cristiano Ronaldo.

As they crossed the bridge, Yashasvi noticed that all the other cruises were going in the opposite direction. And there was hardly any boat in front of them, just an open river expanse leading to some distant shore.

“Why are we not going that way?” she asked as she took the first sip of her champaign.”I thought I would see how they party on those cruises.”

“We are taking a different route toward Old Goa,” he said.”Most people on this yacht prefer complete isolation, especially from the maddening crowds and noisy atmosphere.”

“Isn’t that a bit racist?” she argued. “Imean despite being in India, you seemed to have alienated yourselves. Instead of indulging in our customs, you are keeping a distance from us, like we are some sort of aliens.”

“I told you,” he laughed”It’s just a different way of thinking. I don’t have a problem with that, if I had, then why would I be interested in your company?”

“That’s not the point,” she said. It’s easy to spend time with one member of a community rather than living in that community itself.

“Yeah, I know,” he replied. And let me tell you, I’d love to spend time between the locals if I ever get a chance. In fact, I’m planning to go to Kashmir next month, for a week.

“And besides, I don’t own this yacht. If I did, I would happily turn it around for you, right away,” he smiled.

“Oh thank you,” she smirked. But I won’t say I’m flattered.

“Yeah, you wish,” he smiled. But I really doubt that the owner of this yacht would let that happen. He doesn’t like Indians very much.

“Oh, why is that,” she asked in a frenzy.

Well, he’s a Portuguese. And many of the Portuguese still see Goa as a part of Portugal, not India.

“But it’s so untrue,” she was furious. Goa was never a part of Portugal. They colonized it, just like the Britishers did.

“Yeah, I know,” he said. But for centuries, they have invested so much in Goa, built countless infrastructures, all the beautiful churches, chapels, cathedrals, and whatnot. Then the Indian Army invades Goa in 1961 and forces them to surrender, and they had to leave. And you know what they say, “when you live at a place for a very long time, you become that place.” That’s how it is for these people. They miss their colonies that are now inhabited by North Indians and South Indians.

“Oh, don’t get me started on this subject,” she bluntly said. What have they invested in Goa? I’ll tell you what they did to Goa. They forcefully converted millions of Goans into Christians, forced them into slavery, and restricted them from higher positions in the government. Don’t teach me history alright, and that too, about my own country.

“Alright, you win,” he laughed. Just don’t be mad at me.

“Look, you don’t want to miss the sunset here, do you?” he said as he pointed his finger to show the beautiful view of the fading sun and the Mandovi river down below, bathed in beautiful shades of red and orange.

Soon, a handful of other spectators joined them at the sun deck. The DJ that was originally playing Jazz switched to a Spanish pop album of Chambao. The song it played was Ulere from the album Caminando, making it the perfect setting to enjoy the sunset. Yashasvi seemed to be enamored by the magnificent expanse of the river and the beauty that lay ahead. 

After almost half an hour, the sun disappeared like a fireball drowning into the water at a distant horizon, leaving only traces of reddish illumination in the sky. The colors changed as the day progressed from different phases of twilight to dusk, and then darkness took over. The illuminated Mandovi bridge on the backside and its reflection in the river was something to marvel upon. Complementing the view was the beautiful expanse of Panjim boasting its city lights like a metropolitan. 

Looking straight, Yashasvi spotted the beaming lights of moving objects to the right and a faint glow of a distant town straight ahead.

“What’s that place over there,” she was curious. 

“As I told you earlier, we are moving toward Velha or the Old Goa you can say,” he said. 

“Oh yes, that used to be the old capital of Goa right?” she exclaimed. 

“Correct. Until the repeated plagues forced them to abandon Velha and Panjim became the new capital of Goa in the year 1843,” Josh explained. 

“Wow. That’s impressive,” she quipped. For a foreigner who’s been here for only a month, you seem to know so much about the history of Goa. 

“Yeah, I do a little bit of reading sometimes,” he chuckled. It’s important to know the place where you’re going to spend the next few months, right? I bet that you also did a little bit of reading before coming here, didn’t you?

“Yeah, I did,” she admitted. Hey, where’s your friend Luke? He said he was coming upstairs, but it’s been almost an hour. 

“Busy man he is,” was the reply. And besides, he’s going to perform in less than 20 minutes. I don’t think he’ll come. We should probably go downstairs too, or to the lower deck perhaps. 

“You’re right. And I really want to explore the other parts of this yacht,” she said as they descended. So your friend Lucas is a musician, right?

“Yeah, he’s a bassist,” Josh replied. He used to play in a rock band back in Germany, and they were pretty good. In fact, they have won the Echo Music Award for one of their albums in 2009. 

“Wow, what’s that?” she asked. 

“Ummm, how do I say?” he continued. It’s the German equivalent of the VMAs. 

“Oh, nice. You both are from Hamburg, right?” 

“No. I’m from Hamburg and He’s from Bremen, a one-hour drive from Hamburg.” We first met in Hamburg though. At a club in Reeperbahn. 

As they entered the compact dining hall at the promenade deck of the yacht, the gig was about to begin. Lucas was there on the stage, holding the bass guitar in his hands. Seeing them downstairs, he waved and said something in signals which neither of them could decipher. Within minutes of their arrival, the man on the lead vocals made the announcement.

“A very good evening ladies and gentlemen. Thank you all for joining us here tonight for this private concert,” said the lead vocalist. What a wonderful evening this has been! And before we start with our first song, I’d like to thank the very person who has made this evening possible. Without whom, we would be sitting in our homes, getting wasted, or probably playing at a nightclub in Berlin like every other weekend. The man who landed up in Goa only this morning in his Learjet 40. Well, he’s the only man on this boat wearing a Rolex Albino. He’s standing right over there, the figurehead of Lison, Mr. Rodrigo Costas. Everybody give him a big round of applause. 

Soon after the announcement, the band sprung into action, playing hit rock music from the 60s and 70s. It was mostly the English songs from bands like Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, The Beatles, and Porcupine Tree. While the band including Lucas on the bass guitar played with utmost zeal and enthusiasm, this private concert was different from the others in many ways. People on the yacht were barely interested in watching the band perform. They seemed to be indulged in their own way of celebration, drinking expensive wines and champagnes and having serious conversations with their peers in hushed tones. As the night settled, Josh took Yashasvi to the infinity pool area. As they were having another round of champaign, admiring the distant views of Velha, the conversations grew deeper between them.

“So you didn’t tell me,” Josh enquired. The reason for this spontaneous trip to Goa. Oh, and it’s fine if it’s personal or you don’t feel like sharing it with me. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, I assure you.”

“It’s okay,” she took time to respond. It was not a spontaneous trip, it was all planned. A plan that didn’t go well after all. So yeah, the decision of executing that plan so suddenly was spontaneous. “

“Go ahead, I’m listening,” he said. 

“Abhijit and I, we have been planning this trip for almost a year,” she blurted. Abhijit was my boyfriend. We were together for almost six years. 

After a minute of silence, Josh chose his words carefully. “Well, I know it’s none of my business. But if you want to tell me what happened, I’m all ears,” he finally said.

“We met in college,” she began. He was my senior and used to the star basketball player of our college. You know, the kind of guy who’s got ample female attention already. 

Although I developed a secret crush on him the moment I first saw him, I knew that our match was too good to be true. I was a college topper and he was a backbencher who would flunk in many subjects. But fate had something else planned for the two of us. 

It turned out that apart from being our college’s heartthrob and the so-called stud of the CSE department, Abhijit had a good quality as well. He was a compassionate person who liked to devote his idle time in social welfare. Of course, he was not an activist or something, and neither was I. But only weeks after I saw him in college, I discovered that Abhijit and I had one habit in common. The habit of helping others and serving the needful.

After a few weeks, I saw him at a place where I wasn’t really expecting to find him. It was the Bangla Sahib Gurudwara in Connaught Place, New Delhi. When I was in 10th grade, I had developed a congenial habit of visiting the Gurudwara every Sunday and indulging in Seva, a selfless service where you perform trivial routine tasks like cleaning the Gurudwara premises, feeding devotees during the Langar, polishing shoes of the pilgrims, and more. 

It was a bright Sunday morning, I was at Gurudwara Bangla Sahib. I was poised to follow my routine ritual. Every Sunday morning, I would enter the Darbar first and kneel before the Shrine. Then I would listen to Gurbani for half an hour and then finally I would indulge in Seva. You see, in Gurudwaras, you can’t take your shoes inside the Darbar. If you are wearing any shoes or slippers or anything like that, you’re supposed to deposit them at Joda Ghar (Shoe House). That’s where I saw Abhijit.

While I was depositing my slippers at Joda Ghar, I was greeted by a familiar face, who took my shoes and gave me the token. Collecting shoes at Joda Ghar and giving them back to the devotees is also a kind of seva at these Gurudwaras where any person willing to serve others for the greater good can take part. 

“Hey wait,” he spoke. I think I’ve seen you somewhere. Are you from Amity University?”

“Yes, I’m a fresher,” I said. Joined recently. “

“Oh. Great,” he said. Have you come alone?

“Yeah, I come here every Sunday,” I replied. Wasn’t really expecting to see you here though. 

“Please don’t say a word about this to anyone in the college,” he was quick with the reply. If the word breaks out,…. Not good for my reputation you know?

“Yeah, I understand,” I laughed. You can trust me though. I won’t say a word. 

“Okay, I better get going now,” I said, ready to leave for the darbar. It was nice meeting you Mr…

“Abhijit,” he extended his hand. Abhijit Sikka. 

“Yashasvi,” I shook hands with him.

“Hey by the way, I’m about to get free from here,” he said. If you’ve got some time, we can go for a coffee at Diggin. What do you say?

“Thank you, Abhijit but not today,” I replied. I’ll be here to don’t know how long. I’ll see at the college though. And maybe we can go some other time. 

“Fair enough. Nice meeting you Yashasvi,” he said as I left. I’ll see you soon.

After spending about 30 minutes inside the darbar and another 10 minutes at the Sarovar, I returned to the Joda Ghar and entered the hall to do some Seva work. 

I sat inside the seva hall and started polishing the shoes of the devotees. Minutes after that, I was joined by a young masculine figure who sat next to me and started doing the same thing. It was Abhijit. 

“I thought you were leaving,” I said.

“I was leaving,” he said. But then I decided to stay. 

“And why’s that?” I asked. 

“Well, if I told you the truth, then maybe you would think I’m stupid.” 

“No, I won’t, I promise. Tell me no.”

“Okay. So as you told me earlier that you are going to stay here for a while, I thought that maybe, just maybe, you would come back here to collect your slippers and I’ll get to see you again.” 

“And maybe this time, you would change your mind and we could go for a coffee together,” he smiled. 

It was the first time I realized what a charming personality he was! He always had his ways to get things done and you couldn’t say no. After spending another half an hour inside the Seva hall, we left for coffee. He took me on his bike to a beautiful cafe in Chanakyapuri and we had plenty of sweet conversations over coffee.

Our meeting at Bangla Sahib became more frequent and we started spending time together on college premises as well. I would often bunk my lectures to meet him at the canteen or library. Sometimes we bunked our college and went for a movie. Later, we would spend time at famous restaurants in CP, Saket, Hauz Khas, Vasant Kunj, Greater Kailash, and Indian Habitat Centre. Our story began like every other love story happens in Delhi and it took a beautiful turn after three months when Abhijit finally proposed to me and we had our first kiss. Soon after, the two of us were inseparable. It was as if we couldn’t stay apart for more than an hour. 

The word broke out and soon, everyone in college knew that Abhijit and I were dating. Of course, there were challenges at first, but we learned to sail through the ocean in the adverse times too. And soon we set an example of how an ideal couple should be. Abhijit was not good at his studies and so I helped him with several subjects. Despite being a junior, I was able to help him with his studies and the results were profound. His academic performance started to improve and he cleared all his backlogs with a decent percentage.

Abhijit’s family was greatly impressed with their son’s drastic transformation and his exceptionally good academic record. Giving me the entire credit for this improvement, he introduced me to his family which was the first time I felt like this could be my family too. 

Years passed and our relationship grew stronger and stronger. We made plenty of beautiful memories at different places in Delhi, making out at the weirdest places that one could imagine. We both lived in Delhi, so getting into a live-in relationship was out of the question, given our parents’ mindset. But every once in a while, Abhijit and I would plan a weekend road trip to stay at some exotic locations close to Delhi. Neemrana Fort which lies in the outer suburbs of Rajasthan became our safe haven for most weekend getaways. We were having an amazing time together.

But you know what they say, “the good days don’t last forever.” And on the contrary, good time passes pretty quickly and that’s what happened to us either. Actually not us, I was the one who was going to suffer. 

Abhijit graduated from college with a decent academic score. He was my senior and I was to graduate next year. Knowing the fact that I would not be seeing him in college anymore was heartbreaking. What made the situation worse was his offer letter. Abhijit was placed as a QA trainee at a NY-based MNC in the previous semester. Three weeks after graduation, his offer letter finally came and it was not good news.

He had to move to Bangalore for the first six months to complete his training. The news hit me like a hurricane. The thought of staying away from him for even a month felt like a year. But we had no choice. He assured me that we’ll be in touch, all the time. “More than half of the Indian population lives in a long-distance relationship,” he would say to me. We can live like that too, it’s only six months. 

Like I said, it was not easy at first, but soon enough, we get used to it. Later I realized it wasn’t that bad either. We had so much to talk about, so much to discuss. Three hours on call, four hours on chat, the conversations would not end. But only after a month, Abhijit started showing signs of disinterest. He said he was busy on an internal project and won’t be able to talk to me during office hours which was also fine. But then the conversations receded, even after office. We barely talked for half an hour on an entire day. Sometimes he would say he was too tired and sleepy, sometimes he was exhausted. Sometimes he had a tough day at the office, sometimes there was a cocktail party.

Weeks passed into months. Abhijit and I had numerous fights over the phone calls. But then he would apologize every time and say he would fix it, and that he just needed some time off alone. 

Six months passed after what seemed like an eternity and Abhijit was finally coming back. I was finally hoping to get our dwindling relationship back on track but maybe it was too late then. When I met him, he was not the kind of person that I once knew, not anymore. From the first day itself, I knew he was hiding something from me. And then two weeks later, he finally mustered the courage to confront me and tell me the truth. 

Apparently, he met some girl there in Bangalore who happened to be in the same department. They started spending time together, one thing led to another and they were in love, just like that. I slapped him, I beat him, I cried for weeks that followed. I literally begged him to come back but he didn’t. Said he was extremely sorry for what happened and will be there for me always, as a friend. 

“AS A F**N’ FRIEND,” she yelled, in tears, down with three glasses champagne and two glasses of Shiraz Cabernet. Like those six years, those six fuckin’ years together were nothing compared to those six months in Bangalore that ruined our relationship. 

“I was devastated. I didn’t know what else to do,” she wiped her face but couldn’t stop the tears forming in her eyes. 

Josh was doing his best to comfort her but that didn’t seem to help. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say to her, but he couldn’t see her cry like this. In a split second, he took her in his soft embrace and gently leaned down to kiss her cheek, moving on to the lips, as he kissed her like there was no one else on the boat. Yashasvi was not in a position to resist at the moment and she kissed him back with more passion than what she had felt in months or the years that had gone.

Run!!!

“Run”, whispered Judy and Stephnie was off like a flash.

She ran straight, turned right, found a closet and hid inside it. She was breathing so hard that anyone can hear her from a mile. Stephnie composed herself and waited with bated breath for it to happen. She heard footsteps coming from the next room.

“Where are you” shouted Judy in desperation.

Stephnie let out a sigh hearing this and suddenly the footsteps stopped.

“Help me!!!” Stephnie heard from the other room.

“Nice try Judy” Stephnie said, “You will have to find me to win you know”.

“It was only a game!!! I am really sorry” she head Judy cry.

“You are scaring me now Judy” Shouted Stephnie in anger and came out of the closet. It was pitch black in the room and she was finding it extremely hard to see. She tried to adjust her eyes in the limited light which came from the other room and realized the voices have stopped from the other room.

Stephnie and Judy had been fascinated with the house since the time they had moved in the neighborhood and used to look for opportunities to sneak in the abandoned house. They finally had their chance 1 night when their parents were out for a party. They had everything planned. They were supposed to sneak in through the window check the house out and return home like they went nowhere. They entered the house as planned and checked if the lights worked.

“Nope, there is no fuse, none of the lights work” Stephnie said after checking the fuse box.

“Lets play hide and seek Stephnie” Judy suggested.

Stephnie thought for a second and agreed reluctantly and said “Sure but lets do if fast. This place gives me the creeps”.

“We shouldn’t have come here” Thought Stephnie while finding her way slowly to the next room where she could make out distinct lights. She felt a hand coming towards her and touching her on the shoulder. She felt a sudden jolt of electricity and was thrown straight inside the closet where she had hidden before.

“No, You shouldn’t have” was the last thing she head before everything tuned black in front of her and she passed out.

“Steph!!! Steph!!!Wake up” she heard someone say.

“Judy? What happened” asked Stephnie while trying to get up.

“I, I don’t know” replied Judy looking confused.

“Let’s get out of here” Stephnie said and took Judy’s hand and walked out with her from the main door.

“Strange!!! I could have sworn the door was locked when we tried earlier” Stephnie remarked while moving towards their house along with Judy.

“I think a storm is coming” Judy said looking towards the sky. Stephnie looked up and saw that the sky was blood red as well along with the moon. They heard chirping and Stephnie saw there were birds flying around at night with blood red eyes. Somehow they made home and saw their parents car parked outside.

“Crap!!! Mom and dad are home!! We are so dead!!” exclaimed Judy while entering the doorway.

Both of them stopped dead on their tracks while looking inside the house from the open window. There were people sitting in the drawing room. Both of them turned towards each other in shock and made a face of utter horror. There were their parents along with Stephnie, Judy sitting on the sofa. Judy let out a cry from the driveway which made the 4 people inside the house look at them with their red eyes and in a flash they were standing at the window glaring at them with a dead glaze.

It was at that very moment both Judy and Stephnie head a clear voice whisper in their ear…. “Run”!!!!…

SAVE HIM BY HER

Rustom came out of the Kotwali Police station that Friday feeling quite depressed. He was facing a harrowing and challenging investigation. Having lost count, this was probably his 37th visit there, he was at his wit’s end. He was realising in his bones that the impact of twin tragedies of losing his beloved and also being suspected of such bereavement was taking its toll.

It was 1.15 p.m. by this time., and he had to reach his office in Nariman Point, by the next 45 minutes. Once in his office, he was swamped with a string of meetings with customers in addition to his pending desk work. Afterwards, thoroughly exhausted, he was returning home. It was just after 7.00 p.m. The Mumbai traffic, after a sharp shower during the late afternoon, was at its worst.

As he negotiated his Toyota Etios through a particularly narrow stretch with the crumbling road in Andheri {East}, he became aware that his mobile was buzzing. Picking it up from the adjoining seat he peered at it. The call was from his home landline. As the word “Home” appeared on his mobile display screen, he was jerked out of his boredom of the last one hour of slow driving.

“How is it possible?” he thought, “there is nobody at home.”

He knew that Juhi, his sister had gone to visit her friends in Thane and was not expected till tomorrow afternoon. He took the call anyway. “Yes, who are you?”

It was not a usual response from him since doubt was creeping in him that something was wrong. There was no reply from the other end. He waited for a few minutes and with a higher note interjected, “Who is that? Why are you not replying?” There was still no response. Now with a tinge of concern, he hollered into the instrument, “What is happening? Hell!” and waited in vain. This was downright odd, and he feared that somebody had gone into his house and there could be mischief somewhere.

Disconnecting the line, he called Juhi. She was prompt in taking his call, and when Rustom told her about the strange call, she sounded worried. “Why don’t you call up Mrs. Gupta, she has the duplicate keys to our flat, can check out and call you back.”

It was a good suggestion since Mrs. Gupta’s flat was just across Rustom’s flat. Mrs. Gupta was extremely helpful, “Certainly I will find out, Rustom.”

A little later, she returned his call. Her voice sounded doubtful. “The door of your flat is padlocked from outside. There is nobody around. What can be the problem?”

When Rustom reached his flat about 45 minutes later, he was somewhat a worried man. Opening the door of his 10th floor flat, he entered and looked around with trepidation. Everything seemed perfectly normal. The landline telephone instrument on the sideboard next to the dining table was precisely on the same spot where he remembered it was, and even the thin coat of dust on it was untouched.

Eventually, dismissing the incident as some technical glitch in the telephone exchange, he proceeded to change into his pyjamas and wrapping his dressing gown went into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. After putting the milk in the pan to boil, he went back to the living room to pick up the newspaper.Then, he observed that the landline telephone cable was disconnected from the wall socket and hanging loose behind the sideboard. Wondering, who could have done this, swiftly he moved forward and picked up the cable to check and lifted the handset to find that there was no dial tone. That was expected, though.

What was not clear as to how a call could go to him from this dead instrument. Reconnecting the cable, he slowly walked back and sat on the sofa. By then, it had completely escaped his mind that the milk was boiling in the kitchen. A few minutes had gone when suddenly remembering about it, he rushed to switch off the gas burner. But the gas was already closed. The realisation then hit him that something was definitely wrong somewhere. He gulped as a sensation of fear began to overwhelm him; nevertheless, he prepared his tea and carried the cup back to the sofa and kept on the centre table. His hands were slightly trembling. How long he was sitting on the sofa, he had lost count, and that trance was broken by his mobile ringing. The mobile display showed that the call was from Juhi, but when he took the call, there was no response.

Thinking that there could be some connectivity problem, he disconnected and called her back.

“No, I did not call you,” she said. “In fact, I was thinking of doing that. What has happened? Any idea?”

As Rustom narrated what had exactly occurred during last one hour, she cried out, “Oh my God! Something weird is going on in the house. I am coming back immediately.”

Rustom, feeling slightly relieved, leaned forward to pick up the tea-cup, about which he had forgotten, assuming that the tea had become cold and he would have to reheat it. On the contrary, the tea was piping hot. He frowned; Mumbai’s weather was relatively cold at that time, and in any case, the tea would never remain so hot for so long. Was it another of those strange incidents?Somehow his sixth sense was then telling him that he could be in danger; he should escape from this house. Although he did not recognise at that time that he was totally wrong.

All the same, picking up the padlock and its key from the sideboard, he strode towards the main door. But another shock awaited him. As he attempted to open the door, he found that it was not unlocking. He tried again, this time with greater force; still, it did not open. By now, he was sweating, his heart was pounding, and mouth had turned dry in nervousness. He attempted to unbolt the door a few more times, but every time he failed.

At last, realising that any further effort would be futile, he staggered back on the sofa. A dark shroud of fear seemed to have wrapped him. Taking hold of his faculties, he called Juhi again. She was on her way and hoped to reach within the next three hours. She had the duplicate keys and asked him to keep calm. Changing his mind about calling for any other help, he settled down to wait; still deeply apprehensive, he, however, felt that his eyes were closing; the exhaustion of the day and strain on his emotions had literally drained his energies. He was not certain whether it was sleep or he was losing his senses.

When he opened his eyes, the wall clock was striking the time of 11.00 p.m. He blinked and looked around, his mind was still fearful, but there was nothing amiss anywhere. Thankfully by that time, his faculties were clearing. It was now evident that someone was trying to tell him something and confine him to his house; the reason was not apparent. He sat thinking about what he should do next.

An hour had passed, and Rustom was still in a contemplative mood when suddenly a faint familiar scent of the perfume became discernible. He frowned and looked around; it was not clear how this could be possible. And then, strangely, a deluge of vivid memories started crossing through his consciousness like a vortex; he took one deep breath and closed his eyes again. He was just there reminiscing.

Sailza, his dear wife, charming and beautiful, was the heart of the whirlpool of his memories. He was recalling that their relationship had started with a brief but hectic courtship, blooming into passionate romance and concluding with their court marriage. And their union had brought so much of happiness that it was a heavenly bliss; love was deep and reciprocal.On the third day of their honeymoon in Mauritius, after their intense lovemaking, as she snuggled closer to him, she had whispered, “I am forever yours, Rustom, but do forgive me if you don’t like anything about me… remember that I love you… wherever I am…” 

Rustom too had held her close thanking his stars for she was his lifetime companion. But who knew that her adoring words would be tested, her persona would start to change, and Rustom would have to travel to the realms of the unknown?

Soon after marriage, Rustom had understood that his wife had a terribly forgetful nature, so much so that this could turn into a risk not only to her but her surroundings.That day, Sailza was in the kitchen; she was making their breakfast. Soon she had gone out of the kitchen to attend to a mobile call. Rustom was sitting at the dining table, reading the day’s newspaper and waiting for his food after which he would start for his office. He was not aware that she had gone out of the kitchen. Several minutes later, Rustom became alert when he sensed the pungent aroma of gas coming out of the kitchen. He called out, “Sailza, can you smell gas?”

Instead of the kitchen, her voice came in from the master bedroom.“I am not in the kitchen. I am talking to my mother. Please see what is happening.”

It was apparent that she had forgotten entirely that she had been preparing breakfast and Rustom was waiting at the dining table. Rustom rushed into the kitchen and found that the small pan containing milk, which she had put on the gas fire for preparing tea had spilt and doused the fire, and as a result, the gas had started to escape since some minutes and wafted in the adjoining rooms. That day a major accident was averted. If Rustom had not been at home, the flat and then the whole building could have been on fire. He was angry and expressed his annoyance to such an extent that both refused to talk to each other for the next two days.

The third day was a Sunday, and that morning Rustom after preparing his cup of tea was busy making an official presentation on his laptop. He was sitting at the dining table with the tea before him. Sailza had not left the bed; she had been sulking and had refused to start the day. A little later, he tentatively sipped the tea and noticed that it had gone cold. Instead of going back to the kitchen to heat it, he went to the second bedroom to take out an official file from his briefcase. He wanted to finish his presentation first.Returning to the table, he kept the file on it and on a second thought picked up the teacup to take it to the kitchen. To his surprise, he found that the tea was piping hot. Then he noticed that Sailza was in the kitchen. It was clear that during his short absence, she had got out of bed, and the first thing she did was to heat his tea. He felt pleased about her peace gesture.

On another day, Rustom was in his office conference room giving his presentation when he got a call from Sailza on his mobile. It was from the home landline. Knowing that he would be busy throughout the day and should not be disturbed, she should not have called him unless the need was critical.Nevertheless, he picked up the call. There was no response from her even after holding on for more than a minute, so he called her back on her mobile. She did not pick up the call. He tried the landline telephone, but there was no answer.

Ultimately, he managed to contact her after considerable effort through Mrs. Gupta. Then Sailza’s vague answer was, “Did I call you? Why? I honestly do not remember much. Am I supposed to take your call on mobile?”And on enquiring about her not attending the landline telephone, she admitted that she had disconnected the cable; she couldn’t give any sensible reason. Subsequently, what struck him very odd was her comment that she had heard some voice commanding her to disconnect and not respond to his calls.

After two days another incident shook up Rustom considerably. It was an early Saturday morning, and he was still in bed when Sailza went out shopping for vegetables. She had told about this the previous night and also that she would be back in time to prepare breakfast. She would even wake him up. By the time he woke up, it was close to 10.15 a.m., and there was no sign of his wife. He searched for her, gave her a call on her mobile which then he found she had forgotten to take, and he ultimately went to the main door to go out. Only it was padlocked from the outside. The result was that he could not even request any neighbour to open the door .When Sailza returned, she had only said, “Oh my God… I had gone to the beauty parlour… I had no plans to buy vegetables… it is not my job.”

These types of behaviour persisted. He recalled about that evening when Sailza was lying on her bed and trying to write a letter to her friend, Sudha, in Dubai. She preferred to write letters instead of sending emails. He noticed that many crumbled paper balls were casually thrown around the room; apparently, she could not complete her letter and was trying to do so. In the end, she just threw up her hand and quit. He had never seen her repeatedly fail to do such a simple task.By and by, Rustom was becoming very anxious about her. He wanted to help her, only unhappily, on many occasions, she avoided him and spoke in monotones. Her face on those days became a mask like showing no emotions.

That Monday evening, Rustom took Sailza to Dr. Ravi. His chamber was in the main market area, not too far away from his flat.Hearing the incidents of the past two months, Dr. Ravi motioned Rustom to come outside his chamber and told him, “Rustom, I am of the opinion that your wife is suffering from a mental disease called schizophrenia. Her symptoms are suggestive. She will need urgent treatment. But I must warn you that you have to be careful as she may also have homicidal tendencies although I am not certain. Any case I am going to prescribe some medicines which have to be taken regularly. Also, psychotherapy and coordinated speciality care services are needed. Please keep a strict watch on her.”

Rustom was thunderstruck. That his wife was suffering from such disease about which he had very vague ideas made him miserable. More so as he could not tell Sailza precisely what her problem was. But he could make love to her and try to make her blissful.Then Sailza asked only one question, “Am I becoming mad?”

The following day, unfortunately, that tragedy happened which threw Rustom’s life into mayhem. He was not feeling well and was returning early from the office. It was just after 3.35 p.m. As he got into the flat, he found that Sailza had a strange expression on her face, she was perspiring profusely, her hands were shaking, and her hair and clothes were dishevelled. Abruptly she spoke in a high-pitched voice, “Rustom… I cannot let you do this to me… you are trying to poison me… I am a burden on you… all of you are conspiring to kill me…. my dead father has also warned me.”

She just kept going on and on. He attempted to appease her, but she could not be held back. Getting out of the flat she went to Mrs. Gupta’s flat and started repeating the same allegations. With great difficulty, she could be pacified. Rustom understood that she was hallucinating and showing symptoms of delusion, typical that of schizophrenia.In the evening, after an early dinner, as soon as Rustom had retired to bed and was waiting for her to join him when he heard a shriek. Sailza was screaming in the second bedroom. Getting up in haste he rushed to her, and as he stepped inside the bedroom, he saw that she was in the balcony, and before his disbelieving eyes she climbed over the railings and jumped down. Her cry spread into the gloom of the night, became feeble as she hurtled down towards the ground, ten floors below, and then there was an abrupt silence.Sailza had committed suicide!

What took place after that was a series of unending distress for Rustom. Soon the ambulance arrived, and Sailza was taken to the nearby City hospital, but she was already dead by that time. The Police too reached, and Rustom was taken to the station for questioning.In the days that followed, he sadly understood that as her husband, he was the prime suspect for her unnatural death. That it was a mere suicide and not an abetment to suicide or a murder committed by him became the issue with the police; more so, as Sailza had revealed to Mrs. Gupta on the day of her the death that she suspected that her husband was attempting to poison her.

Soon the Police started behaving very irrationally with him, was deeply suspicious about his motives, and it seemed that he would be prosecuted for the death of his wife. That was unthinkable to him! He knew he was innocent, deeply loved her and his conviction would be the most severe tragedy of his life!

As Rustom sat thinking that Friday evening, recalling his memories, he suddenly realised with a shudder that paranormal incidents of the last few hours had a meaning. The blank calls on his mobile, disconnection of landline telephone, switching off of the gas, unexpected heating of tea, locking up of the main door, et al. were all intricately linked to similar types of past incidents which had originated out of Sailza’s behaviour under the influence of schizophrenia!Not only that, he could even smell Sailza’s favourite perfume.What exactly did that mean, anyway? Was she now in the flat and trying to tell him something? But what and why?What was more, he felt that he was missing some other link which he could not fathom! Perhaps something existing here would solve this supernatural mystery.

Getting up, he decided he should search every nook and corner of the flat. He then went into the master bedroom. This was where she used to keep her personal things and spent most of her time and hence needed to be examined first. Looking around, checking behind the curtains, inside her wooden almirah, the dressing table, the double bed and other furniture he could not find anything which could give rise to any clue. He then went to the attached bathroom, and not being any wiser returned to the bedroom. As a last resort he bent down to examine below the bed, and then he noticed numerous crumbled paper balls lying under her almirah, virtually out of sight. It was somewhat unusual since the rooms were swept every day but could have been overlooked by the maid.Was the missing link here?

Picking up each of the paper balls and smoothening them out he found that these were from her writing pad. Many of those crumbled papers were blank, some had a few lines of half-written letters, and as he checked the last one, suddenly he became alert.It was really brief, and her handwriting was unmistakable. As he narrowed his eyes to read it with some difficulty, his breath stopped for a moment. The words were revealing:“I am sick. I can’t live like this. This is horrible. Nobody is responsible for my death. Rustom will understand. Love him.”

As Rustom read this, he realised with a jolt that it was a suicide note of Sailza; with this, he could be free of all accusations of causing her death!He would now prove his innocence to the Police! By some strange coincidence, the Police, initially, did not find this when they had thoroughly searched this room after her death. Was it written by Sailza, before or after her death?No matter what, her love percolating through her diseased mind and from the ethereal world, was always with him.

The haunted villa : would you dare enter

I was passing by the street and land near a old abandoned villa. It was named Sunvilla but was not at all sunny. It looked haunted. A spooky cold atmosphere in the month of May. It didn’t explain it anyway. It was rumoured to be haunted and even appeared to be .

I had watched a lot of horror movies and it were acting as resistance. I Strengthen my heart and entered the villa. I opened the door and found it to be very dusty. It ached to breathe .

I glanced at the room and it had a royalish setting . Material were expensive and made with lot of passion. I was amazed but my amazement didn’t last long as my eye fell on the floor .

There were skeletons around. After this sight I wanted to finish the delivery as fast as possible .

I shouted “anyone there “.

On getting no response I climbed up the stairs.

Stairs led to the dark room. I knocked the door which itself opened. I tried to enter the room; heard a scream . I got scared , fumbled and bumped into someone. I ran out of the room down to the garden, slipped at staircase but I stood up and what caught my sight was a ghost. Red eyes , skeleton body and shabby cloths that was his very appearance. The situation was even scary. It was like horror films.

I started chanting a spell,” thee if exists as is told , then prayer my he behold , I wish a day in lieu of the dark . Let my request bring some spark . I, son of thee rings the mercy. let this Satan go back to hell.”

Yups, I am not priest ,I learned it from a movie .I had a doubt about this spell and he confirmed by raising his axe and making me feel like a laim goat .I stood up and ran toward the door. It got itself closed , my fear turned me to stone.

He came towards me and laughed ” ha!ha!ha!”.

He raised his axe again and suddenly a stone came flying toward him aiming his head .He bend down and I, with wet eyes and blured vision saw man standing on the staircase .

He called me,”come on come here, dude !”.

I rushed towards the staircase and man was none other than my friend Jhon. His face was red and his eyes looking down.
I asked ” Hey what’s wrong , you are feeling ashamed “.

I received no answer but after a minute he broke into my arm and apologised, “Dude ! There was no delivery it was prank, we weren’t aware of the fact that this place was actually haunted “.

I felt like somebody is near and I realised that we were fighting a ghost .we ran to the 2nd floor . Jhon hid himself in a box and I headed towards the 3rd floor . Ghost chased me to third floor and Jhon hiding in a box noticed something unusual . He came out of the box and raised his hand signaling me to stop then and there. He chased the ghost , caught him by his arm and pulled him . Ghost fell on the floor .

“I never knew ghost has feet ” Jhon exclaimed ,pointing his finger toward ghost’s feet .
we both laughed out loud.

I came down and took the ghost’s axe .He saw me taking his axe and ran down stair . I was angry . In a mood to kill.

I fastened my feet toward the ghost and Jhon stopped me and
cautioned, ” If you committed crime you will sent behind the bars .we will call the police .let them handle him “.

I yelled with the half smile and utter, ” is murdering a ghost a crime ? I never knew. If you want to summon someone then summon tareapers and tell them we have a fresh soul here of a skeleton”.


I know, my mood was scary, Scary enough to even scare Jhon .

Situation was very cinematic .
A person begging for life and a ruthless villain hungry for his blood and flesh .

I came down in dramatical fashion with my axe (currently mine now ) and chanted
the hymn, ” when the clock stuck at nine. The devil may invoke my divine. .delusion , illusion , hallucination and darkest dream ; get him to bring the most hellish scream”.

I came down ended my dramatic entry and started my actionable exit. I broke upon him with my axe.
skeleton started shivering and shaking.

I stroke again and again but missed . He fell down and I was ready to give a fatal blow . He moved himself but lost his concealed identity .

Mask broke and behind the mask. the man that I saw last night at the entrance of Ms Parker’s mansion before the party .

We witnessed a theft there last night . A costly painting was robbed . Ms Parker saw a skinny bald shadow. It approx 5.6 inches lingering in the corridor when we showing us the mansion

Wh was strange because all servants were at leave.

“Well , Well John we found Mr Parker’s skinny bald shadow ” I spoke like sherlock Holmes .

“What ?how ?” , John said.
Yes , brother I saw him lingering near Ms Parker’s gate and his shadow seems the same ” I spoke in confident voice.

“Well, police will be here in no time . Old lady would happy to get her painting back” John said with a smile.

Ghost stood up and ran towards the door and I chased to kill him . He beated the door , kicked and broke into it . His efforts were futile .

I yelled at him ” just freeze there moron and i ‘ll give a easy death else I won’t even spare your soul “.

I rushed to kill him and suddenly the door opened throwing two of us to two different corners of the room.

“Who called me. I am here . Where’s the criminal” policemen shouted .

“Sir, me ” John replied .

I pointed at the ghost guy and spoke angrily , “You better catch this filthy rascal else I’ll bring him to death “.

“My friend suspects him to be painting thief as well . He saw him roaming near our neighbour’s gate and she saw a shadow that resembles like his “.John said.

“Well the justice must be done he will be served right,” policemen said.

The ghost man broke into tears and exclaimed”Spare me ,I didn’t mean to kill you . I am not murder . I am a just thief ” .

“Just a thief ! What do you mean by just a thief ?! You almost gave a heart attack ” I exclaimed in anger .

“Who are you ? What you are doing ? And why you scared us ?” John curiously interrogated .

He replied in a shacking and breaking voice ” I am a thief .I steal paintings and hide here . Everyone believe this place is haunted . If you proved their belief wrong I would be homeless “.

“Handcuff him and hunt the paintings” inspector ordered.

The police searched for painting and they found it in basement .inspector showed us the paintings and asked “is there any painting of Ms parker “.

I replied pointing at painting “yes , sir .this one “.

Police took thief and left.

“Ooh ! They left this weird painting ” John said.

“Weird painting ! Show me” I said.

“A beautiful lady in red gown holding axe . Its made in 1964 ” John said.

“Mrs Parker never told me axes were in fashion”, I said.

“Hey ! Do you checked the top floor ? You were there , right . “John exclaimed with excitement.

” Yups !almost Except one room .it was locked .” I said .

I look at window of undiscovered room and what I saw yet haunts me . A young lady in red gown holding an axe . Shockingly she and thief’s axe resembled same as in painting.

I spoke in shaking voice ” gh…ost on the t…op fl..o..or “.

John said ” shut up , there is no ghost “.

“There he is “, I insisted .

“Brother , After what you did in villa I know only one ghost and its you ” John said.

Bus stopped and we boarded in .