Curse of the Unknown

                                                       Episode 5

We rushed for the aid of the old man and resurrected him back on his wheelchair. He was so old and frail that it actually seemed that had I held him a little tighter, his bones would have crumbled into pieces. Asmi went to the washbasin and brought a water soaked towel to clean up his face. While she was busy with her work, I noticed that the dragonflies were still clung to his neck. It must be so painful for him, I thought, being bitten by one myself. But to my surprise, she cleaned up his face and hands, but not his neck. I wanted to tell her about the same, but soon dropped the idea, thinking that she might not like me intervening. But still I asked, however, in a different manner-

“Do you need any help?”

“No, its fine.” , she replied.

She looked so calm and composed which seemed so odd to me. Her grandfather, though he had not sustained any visible injury, looked every bit shaken and afraid. His body was completely paralysed, except for his left eye. The randomness, with which its pupil was moving gave me enough evidence that he was afraid, instilled with a fear which, out of my knowledge, was approaching me slowly.

The dragonflies were still there, fondling with his long scattered hairs and drilling his impaled skin with their stings. This had become unbearable for me now.

 “I think you forgot to clean up over there.”, I said to Asmi, with my finger pointing towards the old man’s neck.

“You don’t need to tell me how to take care of him, Gautam.”, said she in her very own sardonic tone and swept the towel across his neck.

I cursed myself and decided to head back to my hotel. And somehow fortunes were on my side that day. The bus was standing right in front of me when I reached the bus stop. Its fore tyres had got punctured (fortunately). It was within few minutes after I arrived that the bus was ready to go.

It wasn't crowded as I had seen it two days ago. Although I didn't got a seat but still I found a comfortable place to stand. The driver fastened the bus towards the highway as the skies grew darker.

The whole forest seemed alive by the constant bustling of monkeys, jumping from one branch to the other. The trees danced in ecstasy as the birds enchanted their melancholies. A flock of crows dashed just over the roof of the bus, hindering the already emaciated light from entering the forest. The situation was scary, but I wasn't, being with so many people at that time. And surprisingly though, they weren't afraid either. I was standing very close to the ticket collector. So I asked him, “Aren't you afraid of this place?”

“Yes, I am.”, he replied in a carefree manner, “But not now with so many people around. That witch never haunts a public transport. It is only seen by individuals.”

He was right. I didn't see any sign of that apparition throughout the path.

This became a routine for me. My mornings spent travelling to Asmi’s house; noons remained engaged in candid conversations (along with a hot cup of black coffee) over my book and other stuff; and my evenings witnessed the spooky Pagdandi Marg with not so spooky incidents.

It was my last day in Pune. I was busy trimming my beard and plucking out the white hairs from my head. Usually there are just four to five, but this time the count was as much as twenty hairs. I looked at my sullen eyes, and pondered over the plausible reasons for all this. And there was only one reason that justified my condition- love. Yes, I was in love with Asmi. Totally, madly, deeply. She was the woman of my dreams. Such calm and composed persona, such elegance of expressions iced with those sardonic looks (she looked very cute at the time) made me fall for her. The idea to pop up the big question against her had given me three sleepless nights. Though I was very sure that she had developed some feelings for me (as she had cried over my shoulder on our very fifth  meeting, telling me about the hardships she had faced in her life), but I was not sure that those were of love, like mine. But still I mustered all the courage inside me and decided to go ahead and propose her.

     I bought a bouquet of flowers on the way and at around 3pm I was at her house. I got late that day (due to those trimming and plucking and other grooming sessions) but still I was in no mood to leave early without asking her. I ranged the bell and there she came, dressed in a long white kurta and churidar. My heart beat raced to infinity after looking at her. She was looking the most beautiful woman my eyes had ever witnessed. Unlike the other days she had kept her hairs open, letting them being played by the canny winds. While I was enjoying this site, she was getting irritated and had just begun to tie up her hairs when I interrupted-

“Don’t do that. They are looking good. “

Blood rushed to her cheeks as she smiled coyly. With her eyes facing the floor she welcomed me inside. After some formal conversation she went inside the kitchen to make coffee. Not only her appearance but also her countenance seemed different to me that day. Her lips were stretched in a continuous smile every time I saw her. These signs further boosted my confidence and I went after her to the kitchen.

Suddenly the sky grew dark and winds stormy. She was busy in making coffee with her back facing me. I touched the left pocket of my pant to check whether the ring was there. I called out her name slowly, “Asmi.” But she didn't reply. I went near to her and called out again. She didn't reply this time either. I called her again and again but she remained frosted, busy in making coffee. I placed my hand over her shoulder and shrugged her, “Asmi!”

She turned around this time. Her hairs were scattered over her face. Suddenly the window of the kitchen burst open, letting the stormy wind peep inside. With her hairs blown away by wind, I saw her face- only to witness a dead white skin, just like the apparition I had seen on my first day in Pune.

To be continued…….

Curse of the Unknown

                                                Episode 4

Next day I found myself standing right in front of Ms Asmi Mathur’s house holding a bouquet of white lilies in my hands. I was very sure that she was the same woman who had saved me a day before on that ominous night. I knocked on her door twice but no reply came from inside. She must be having difficulty in walking, I thought. I knocked on the door once again and this time there was a reply, “Wait there. I am coming.” By the time she reached the door I kept myself busy looking around, thinking that how difficult it could be for her to live at such a place, a place so nonchalant with very few houses in the neighborhood.

“Yes?”

The door was open. She was standing there, dressed immaculately in a tank white kurta and skin tight slacks. But to my surprise there wasn’t any kind of plaster or bandage over her left leg which had got injured that night.

“Hello, who are you? Hey, wait a sec…”

She narrowed her eyes and scanned me from her head to toe. “Hello, Ms Mathur.”, said I, in a rather stilted way.

“Okay, I…I remember now who you are. But…”

“You must be wondering how I got to know about your place.”

I paused for a few seconds to observe her reaction. She was confused, no doubt, but at the same time she was petrified as she slowly cringed behind the door, probably thinking of me as a stalker. I thought it was enough of playing games with her. “Well..”, said I, “I had been to your office yesterday. They told me that you won’t be coming to the office for few days and I…

“…..thought that come here and meet me in person or to be more precise find an opportunity to be alone with me, right.”, said she sardonically, cutting short my words.

“No!”, I cried, albeit I knew that she would be thinking like this, “No lady, you are getting me wrong.” This was followed by a few minutes of silence after which I continued, “I have come here to show you the manuscript of my book Ms Mathur. That’s the reason I am in Pune.”

She narrowed her eyes and examined me once again from head to toe. The sardonic look of her eyes was gone within the minute she realized who I was. “Mr. Bhardwaj?”, she said, looking visibly embarrassed. “Yes, Ms. Mathur.”, said I, borrowing her sardonic overtone, “ I am Gautam Bhardwaj from Delhi, author of ‘The Mystery Woman’. I think I have an appointment with you today, if you have been informed about that.”

“I am terribly sorry Mr. Bhardwaj.”, she said while opening the door, “Please come inside.”

I followed her into the living room. The furniture was mostly made up of wood and seemed very antique from its design. A thin layer of dust had formed over the bookshelf, something which again seemed quite strange to me as she, being from the literary arena, must have been book frenzy. I picked up a book from the shelf as she went to the kitchen to prepare tea. There were a lot of classics in the lot, such as Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, Shakespeare’s Othello and Romeo and Juliet, Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibilities and many more. But something was strange here too. Most of these books were old editions. Othello was the oldest among the lot with a 1924 edition.

“These are my grandfather’s.”, she said as she came into the living room, holding a tea tray in her hands, “ he himself was an editor at mint.” “That sounds great.” , I said as I took the cup of tea from her hands. Silence prevailed over the next five minutes as we busied ourselves with the tea. I was the one to break the silence, “So how’s your leg?”

“What has happened to my leg?”

“I think you had injured your leg that night.”

“Oh that! That’s nothing. I have survived worse. It was just a scar by the way.”

We finished our tea and then discussed about the layout of my novel. I don’t remember how the time got lapsed and when we got up it was almost five in the evening. “Where are you staying?” she asked. “At the Grand Shivaji Hotel.” I replied. “How will you go there now?”

“Of course by bus. The bus driver’s strike is over, isn’t it?”

“No… I mean that the bus arrives at around 4:30 at Pagdandi Marg stop. And it’s almost over five now.”

“Thank you, Ms. Mathur. I’ll manage.”

“It’s your choice then.” after a pause she said, “I need not tell you what lies there, in the forest, do I.”

She was giving me a valid reason to avoid that path. But there wasn’t any option other than this for me. I dare not ask her for a night stays either because more and so I was still a stranger to her “I should go now, Ms. Mathur” I said. “Okay then. And it’s your wish altogether and one more thing” she said smilingly “don’t call me Ms. Mathur again. It seems that I am a hundred years older than you.” I chuckled “what should I call you then?”

“I think Asmi would be fine.”

We both laughed. It was the first time I had saw her expressing any emotion, and that too of joy. While her almond shaped eyes danced in ecstasy, my eyes stationed over her face, arousing a feeling I had never felt before. But her laughter soon effaced into a wry smile. Her brows got tensed and she turned away her face from me, probably trying to hide the reason which had cut short her laughter. I was about to ask her why she got upset when suddenly I felt a tinge on my neck. I slapped on my neck and found a dragonfly clung to my hand. A dragonfly doesn’t usually bite, but its sting was somehow more painful than that of a bee. I brushed aside my pain and asked her, “Are you alright?” Suddenly a noise came from the house as if someone has fallen off from a height. We both rushed inside the house. She led me to a room, second in the kitchen- living room gallery. There I saw an old man, pale like a corpse, lying flat on the floor with a dozen of dragonflies clung to his neck.

To be continued…..

Curse of the Unknown

                                   

                                   Episode 3

“Hurry up!” I screamed as the apparition’s image in the mirror began to look larger by every passing second. Her obscured appearance was slowly getting a shape now- a figure which was skinny, covered in a white robe which was half smeared in blood, and those long, bony hands which were tirelessly waving at us. “Don’t look at it”, said the first woman,” and don’t dare to look back.” I complied with her orders and tried my best to avoid looking at the mirror. But every now and then I found my eyes stuck at the mirror, gazing at that odious specter with fear. The harder I tried to constraint my vision, more incited I felt to look at it.
My whole body was shivering out of fear. I grabbed hold of the first woman’s shoulders and squeezed them impetuously. She was highly offended, I knew, but I was in no mood to leave hold of her until we were out of this trouble. Suddenly, the woman in the mirror disappeared. I heaved a sigh of relief as I thought that the danger was over now. But somewhere inside me I was still perplexed that whether the apparition’s disappearance was the end of our miseries or the indication of an impending disaster.
The road was nearing its end and so was my patience. The sound of the bustling vehicles from the highway was the only relief for me. I closed my eyes and tightened my grip over the first woman’s shoulders. She screamed; and I knew that it was not my tightening grip which had made her shriek. I opened my eyes in horror only to find the same woman in white standing in front of us, waving at us with her bloodied hands. Her mouth, which was rinsed with blood, was continuously uttering these three words” Don’t go ahead.” I was left aghast and confused at the same time- what did she meant? In the meantime the second woman steered the scooty inside the jungle. “What the hell are you doing?”, I cried. “She is doing the right thing.”, the first woman asserted, “Stay calm and pray. (Holding my hands) Seriously, pray.” I am a Brahmin and henceforth I know quite a few mantras and chalisas. But at that time nothing from my holy dictionary appeared in my mind in spite of my incessant efforts to recall them.
Our scooty was cutting a swathe through the thorny bushes which in return ripped my shirt into strips of clothes. Suddenly I saw an old, wooden bridge, nearly 30-40 yards away from us. It was in midst of a muddy land and led straight to the highway. But it was severely damaged and just needed a hint of force to cripple down into pieces. ”Hey! wwhha..t are you doing?”, I cried as the second woman paced the scooty towards the bridge. “Hold on!”, the first woman said, her tone still impervious of the odious situation. But her words were not enough to pacify me. The scooty was already very short when compared to my six feet tall frame. It took me just a little push against the seat to remove myself from the bumpy ride. However, to my surprise, the scooty rode over the bridge quite comfortably. I was cursing myself for jumping off the scooty when suddenly the scooty lost its balance and fell just next to the bridge. I ran for their aid and found the two women on the ground, drenched in mud. While the second one was cursing me and reprehending me for all that, the first woman was crouched quietly on the muddy surface, nursing her left leg which had got injured. I leapt for help but the second woman came in my way and roared, “Don’t you dare touch her.” I was taken aback by this action. For some reasons she was looking scarier than the apparition which was following us. Her hairs scattered, just like that woman in white, were reminding me of Goddess Kali, breathing fire in her rage fuelled avatar. She helped the first woman on her feet, started the scooty and was just about to go when the sound of a huge vehicle bustled up the place. I saw a truck standing just about ten yards from us. Suddenly a man (a sardar actually) popped out his head from the truck’s window and offered help. Looking at their condition (which was definitely not good for driving), I asked both of them to come along with me in the truck. But as furious as she was, the second woman declined my offer and stormed her scooty out of the place. Before they went, I saw the first woman’s face; her brows were writhing with pain above her melancholic eyes, which were clearly hinting me that there was more than the physical pain which was bothering her.
Nevertheless, they went on their way and I on my own. The next day I went to the branch office of Sparrow Books Publishing House with my book in a hope that the matter will get sorted out quickly. But another problem was awaiting me over there.
“So you are saying that the chief editor will return after a week.” said I to the receptionist, who was busy receiving her calls. “Exactly, sir.” she replied, still lost in her work. I asked ,” Has he left any message for me?”
“Tell me your name sir.”
“Gautam Bhardwaj.”
After scrolling down her notes for a while, she answered
“Yes sir. Mr. Gautam Bhardwaj, you have an appointment with our sub editor at 12pm today. She will be concerned with your matter till Mr. Pathak comes back.”
“Great. Then I’ll wait till 12pm.”
“But you cannot meet her today sir.”
“Why? Is she on a leave too?”
“No sir. I…I mean yes sir. But on a medical leave.”
“What happened to her?”
“She fractured her leg yesterday while coming back from Pagdandi Marg. What a cursed place that is.”
Suddenly yesterday’s bad memories crossed my mind. I asked the receptionist,” Is this Pagdandi Marg lies adjacent to the new highway?”
“Yes sir.”
“Can you please tell me the name of your sub editor?”
“Her name is Asmi Mathur.”
The name sounded familiar to me. Judging by my face, she asked,” Do you know her sir?”

I smirked," I think I do.”

To be continued……  

Curse of the Unknown

                                  

                                 Episode 2

“Excuse me, may I help you?” the woman asked. For an instant I forgot my pain and was mesmerized by the sanity in her voice. I looked up to see her face- it was perfectly oval in shape with a broad forehead. Her long ravine hairs, jet black in colour with streaks of gold, ran down to her hips. However, it was her eyes which caught my attention- they were big, almond shaped and had the same mesmerizing effect as of her voice. "Are you alright?” asked the lady again, with her left brow twirled up in annoyance over my continual gaze. The mesmerizing look of her eyes was now replaced by a strident, sardonic look, compelling my head to lower down in embarrassment. “I am alright. Just a…. little..”
I tried to get up but my legs were too weary to bear the weight of my body. Moreover I had injured my left knee and it was bleeding profusely. I was completely exhausted and both my senses and will had gone hazy altogether. Seeing my condition, the woman took out a bottle from her bag and forwarded it to me. “Have it”, the woman said, “you’ll feel good.” The bottle was filled with some energy drink and got emptied within a minute. My senses returned and I looked around. The bus stand was still there but there was something else which I hadn’t noticed yet- the path ahead was completely shadowed by the cluster of old and dense banyan trees on both sides of the road, which were refraining the light from touching the ground. “We need to walk. I just can’t imagine myself stranded over this place after the sunset.”
“What’s wrong with this place?” I asked, standing up in the process with a little help from the lady.
“You are not from Pune, are you?”
"And how exactly do you know that?”
“Because had you been from Pune, you should have known about this place.”

I was getting a bad feeling about the place although she had not given the intricate description of the place.
The eerie silence of the road was creeping in my mind. The place was so dead silent! It seemed as if all traces of life (except trees) have been deliberately effaced from the place. I would have enjoyed this sort of environment on any other day but I was at my lowest that day.

I was trying hard to match her steps. She was walking steadily, her expressions austere amidst this haunting silence which was freaking me out. Her calm and composed demeanor was giving me the feel of confidence and jealousy at the same time. I used to rake my audacity in a very high esteem in those days so it was quite irksome for me that someone else, especially a woman, was showing more composed attitude than me at that time.
 I reached for my cellphone in my pocket and it was out in a flash. But it served me no good as there was no signal. Dejected, I looked up at the sky which was getting darker by every passing minute. Amidst of this hopeless situation( which was quite ironical because I was getting feared without any pragmatic reason), I heard a sound of horn coming from the way we were heading. Out of the gloominess emerged a scooty, ridden by another woman( I wouldn' t had figured it out if her hairs had been tied up), heading steadily towards us. The scooty stopped right in front of us. "Quick, Asmi.", the second woman asserted and the first one complied quickly by sitting on the scooty. I gave a desperate look to the second woman( helpless look; do not confuse it with the other meaning of the same word), hoping she would be as benevolent as the first woman. She was looking at me with suspicious eyes, probably thinking me as a thief( which was quite believable by the way I was looking at that time). The first woman murmured something into the second woman's ears which turned her suspicious look into that of pity. She signalled me to sit on the scooty and I complied happily.
We were about to reach the highway when suddenly I looked at the rear view mirror of the scooty. Though the skies were getting dark, I was very sure that what I had saw was a lady in white clothes waving at us.

To be continued....

Curse of the Unknown

         

                                       Episode 1

Late American President Roosevelt had said that 'the biggest fear in you is the fear to get feared'. People admit. I too used to believe it. But no more now.
It's half past twelve in night, but I am still alive, waiting for the arrival of dawn. Every passing second is seeming to be like an hour. My tireless mind is struggling to stay alive at this period of night. It doesn't matter how much you have studied, that how much modern you are, when you face harsh truths of nature which are hard to believe for a  21st century human being.
My name is Gautam Bhardwaj, a software engineer by profession and a part time writer. It all started two years ago, when I was in Pune for the publishing of my first novel. I had just arrived at the place and was straight-away heading to the main branch office of 'Sparrow Books Publishing House' to meet Mr. O.P Pathak, branch manager of Sparrow Books, Pune. My book was facing some copyright issues related to it's name( 'The Mystery Woman' it was, pretty unique as per I think). After that I needed to meet the editor myself to sort out the issue completely. My parents, especially my father is very supportive towards my art. He used to tell me when I was young that a time comes in everyone's life when a person takes a path ruled by his heart, not by wit. It is up-to destiny that whether this path leads you to the doors of  heaven or doom.
I was tired after a long and gruelling journey but I had no time to rest. I was dragging my weary legs towards the bus stand which was overtly crowded. The strike of the taxis and autorikshaws further aroused resentment in my weary soul. But despite of all this I was determined to reach my destination.The breezy weather was the only relief for me at that time. though the place was densely crowded, but still it wasn't noisy. Most of the people were seeming to be IT Professionals( as I guessed looking at their dress code) and I felt secured to be along with the people of my community. Barring two or three of them, I found the overall crowd the most decent one I had ever saw in my life. My tireless mind began to compare the crowds of Delhi and Pune, their contrasting characters and attitude and stuff like that. My heart got filled with appreciation for the people of Pune for such a fine display of discipline at a heavily concentrated place.
But the pull of my praises got thrashed as soon as the bus arrived. The sober looking crowd mobbed the bus even before it stopped. The conductor was thrown out of the bus and the driver saw himself seated along with two old fat ladies. I was too weak and tired that I was thrown down on the ground. To prevent further damage to my tired body, I secluded myself from the crowd and went on to watch that mad rush from a safe distance.They were screaming, abusing, fighting with each other and were making me wonder that why the hell I called them sober and  sophisticated.
The bus got jam packed and was about to leave the station when I heard somewhere from the crowd that it was the last bus that had arrived at this stop. Before I could think over it, I found myself running towards the bus. Luckily, I saw some standing space available and I took no time to capture it. Though only half of my body was inside the bus, I found myself lucky that I was about to meet the purpose of this errand.
After some terrible shaking and hiccups, the bus got started. I was holding the bar near the door so as to prevent falling off again. The bus was slowly gaining pace when I heard someone screaming to stop the bus from behind. I turned around to see the person. But in the process I lost my grip over the bar and once again I found myself on the road. I got a cut on my right elbow and it started bleeding profusely. Suddenly I felt somebody's presence near me. I turned around to see the person. She was a girl, or woman I say, the same one who was screaming to stop the bus.
"Excuse me, are you all right?"
TO BE CONTINUED.........

Welcome!!

Late American President Roosevelt had said that 'the biggest fear is the fear for getting feared'. 

Believe it or not, it's true.

How will you react if you come to know that the person sitting next to you is not a mortal being? That the person is made up of flesh and bones but with no spirit?

Read the experiences of Gautam Bhardwaj, who unintentionally becomes a part of the world of undead in my first blog, 'The Curse of the Undead'.