Maninder shivered! Goose bumps! Cyrus’ stories always had that effect on him, yet he could not tear himself away; lips slightly ajar, a deathly pallor on his face and a quiver of anticipated fear going through him he waited for the next story.
They lolled around sipping coke, munching on Lays and Bingo. It was like any other evening at their favourite spot – bandstand beach at Bandra; jokes, laughter, back-slapping with a lot of ‘yaars’ thrown in. Soon, tall and lanky Cyrus started off with another riveting tale.
“This happened to my uncle. You know him Ravi, the priest. Well, last year just a few days before our New Year, he was returning from the fire-temple. It had been a hard day and he was exhausted from an evening of performing rituals and prayers; his eyes burned from sandalwood smoke. He had had to stay there later than usual, because someone had wanted a special ceremony which has to be performed after midnight.”
“What kind of ceremony is that? Was it to drive away one of your ghosts?” Mohan liked to be at his sarcastic best when Cyrus rattled scary tales.
“Just shut up you clown, let him finish,” someone slapped him hard on his shoulder from behind.
“Look, I am not getting into the religious part here to explain the ceremony and its importance. You don’t want to listen get lost.”
Mohan got another whack and then all fell silent. Soon, even the munching stopped at the dramatic rise and fall of Cyrus’ voice as he was pinned with anxious stares; except for that no other sound emanated. Mohan had a cynical grin on his face as he felt the water’s rhythmic lap against his feet.
“Okay”. Now Cyrus lowered his voice to a dramatic hoarse whisper. “It was around three in the morning when uncle could finally call it a day. The torrential August rain restricted his vision and a strong wailing wind made him struggle to hold on to his umbrella. Not a soul stirred; the usual strays too had huddled in nooks and corners . Frogs too it seemed had decided it was a ghastly night to be out. He didn’t have far to go, but the inclemency made him shuffle and drenched to the bone he started to tremble. . He is rather old yaar, you know. Poor guy. Hardly a yard away from the temple and a cycle braked near him.” Cyrus paused, with a far-away suspenseful look in his brown eyes.
“Sahib, what are you doing out at this unearthly hour? And in such weather!” shouted the cyclist.
“A startled uncle recognized their milkman from his voice. Instead of shouting again, he gestured with his hands, made uncle sit on the bar and pedalled off as fast as he could towards home.
“Uncle was in no state for any niceties. He just thanked him and got into the house. Later in the day, he narrated the incident to his wife. “Please give something extra to ‘that poor Champak’. It was very kind of him to help me in that dreadful weather.”
“My aunt was speechless. She stared in total disbelief at Uncle who turned ashen when it suddenly hit him. Champak had been dead three years, almost to the date!” The moment of realisation was the moment of uncontrollable panic and he fell ill.
The fear was palpable; uneven breaths were audible as Cyrus’ story reached a climax. Maninder’s empty packet of Lays slipped and rested on the sand. He was pasty and hoped someone would shatter the deathly silence. He wanted to be safe home but was scared stiff.
“So now, Mohan, will you still insist there are no ghosts?” Shruti, the only girl in the gang broke the silence in a quaking voice.
“Sure! I still say it is all poppy-cock. Everything is in the mind. And this Bawa always takes you dumbos for a ride.”
“Fine. Then prove it to us,” piped in Faiz who was ever ready to challenge.
“I will. This Kali Chaudas at the stroke of midnight, I will go to the graveyard at the end of Ravi’s road and walk among the graves. No ghost can spook me, you helpless wimps.”
“We’ll need proof that you went there. I’ll tell you what. You take a nail and hammer it into the ground under the custard apple tree at the farthest end of the cemetery. And we will all stay over at Ravi’s that night, to assure that you at least left the house at the stroke of twelve,” sneered Shruti.
{Kali Chaudas is one of the prominent festivals as per the Hindu lore which falls one day before Diwali, the 14th day of the waning moon. Kali Chaudas are the nights that evoke in the voodoo and the sense of occult. It’s a reawakening of the concept of a dark and secretive world of the unknown. The night of the Kali Chaudas is the most dangerous night of the year as the exorcist, and Tantrik uses the same night to perform their black magic.}
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So at the appointed hour on that dark moonless night, when probably even spirits would be afraid to wander around, Mohan left for his tryst with ghosts, a hammer and nail in hand. He had dared himself to stay there the rest of the night, so he carried a light shawl with him.
Fifteen minutes later his friends followed him. Maninder had implored them not to, but they didn’t listen. They were scared too, but they couldn’t leave Mohan alone on a dangerous mission like this. They must have his back. They walked noiselessly, every shadow making their skin crawl. Cyrus was a little ahead of the rest. They did not dare to look farther than a few steps in front but knew he would take care of Mohan if something happened before they reached the spot. When they reached the gate they heard the muffled strokes of the hammer.
Surreptitiously, holding hands, they crept in. “Damn it. Me and my big mouth! I shouldn’t have dared him”, thought Shruti as they crept towards the other end between the grave stones. Even a leaf crunched underfoot sent chills up their spines.
“Wahe Guru, please don’t let any of us die. And no ghosts,” pleaded Maninder, hand on Faiz’s shoulder, eyes almost shut, as he let him lead.
Half way into the cemetery a bat flew past out of nowhere. Shruti stifled a scream and hung tightly onto Ravi’s hand, her nails clawing into his arm even as fear dripped down his temples as perspiration. Not a whisper escaped their lips; their breaths shallow, eyes glazed they inched along with great effort, when a banshee wail made them jump out of their skins. It was followed by an apparition that loomed into view and then spoof it was a yard away! It kept appearing and disappearing, now here, now there. Then with a low, blood-curdling snort, it began to move towards them. Another one sprang up just at arm’s length from them. Poltergeists! Something seemed to be sniffing the air and then a nerve-jangling voice made their hearts beat at a maddening pace: “Heart, liver, kidney, whose should we feast on first?” Petrified, they stood like upright grave stones; even their eyeballs were frozen stiff! The others were not even aware that Maninder had collapsed with a thud!!
Just then a strong flash light beamed into their faces and Mohan, Cyrus and a third conspirator doubled up with guffaws removing the sheets they had covered themselves with. Afraid they might have gone a bit too far they decided not to go any further with their wicked plan.
Ravi and Faiz sprang on the three, floored them and bashed them black and blue. Shruti wouldn’t be left behind. Once she stopped trembling she slapped and hit them on their chests in a fit of frenzy. It was much later they heard Maninder’s whimper and attended to him. It took them some time to convince him that there were no phantoms.
“You idiots, we could have all died! Don’t you ever again do this to us! And Cyrus, no more of your terrifying tales”, hissed Shruti, still in a bit of daze.
Finally when the tremors of fear and anger subsided they sat down bang in the middle of the graveyard discussing the experience, the three ‘ghosts’ groaning and laughing at the same time. Mohan was most delighted at the prank they had pulled off with not much damage done.
“I’ll tell you a true graveyard story,” started Cyrus after a while and invited a swift, hard smack on his chin. He squirmed in pain and cursing, pounced on Faiz.
Mohan had the last word. “See, I told you nincompoops. The ghosts and spooks are in our minds. Fear is the biggest ghost. And this *#@#*^ Bawa’s made-up stories cement it in your thoughts. I hope we have finally exorcised it from your bird-brains!”
It was almost morning as they began to walk out silently. Each one stupefied by a colossal realisation. Amazed at the power of the mind, they ruminated upon how our use of it can sabotage life or manifest its greatest pinnacles of happiness and abundance. They saw the truth of what Mohan had always tried to convey – it is all in the mind and how you employ it.
Bio
To Shernaz Wadia (Pune, India), reading and writing poems is one of the means to embark on an inward journey. She hopes her words will bring peace, hope and light into dark corners.
Her poems have been published in many Indian and international e-journals and anthologies. She has published her own book of poems "Whispers of the Soul" and two volumes of "Tapestry Poetry - A Fusion of Two Minds". It is an innovative form of collaborative poetry writing that she developed and co-authored together with her poetry partner Avril Meallem from Israel.
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