The first evening was way beyond satisfying. The beach, ever so slightly populated...the sun, a shimmering disc of light...the sky, an ever changing vista, ablaze in a million shades...the beautiful Arabian Sea, giggling like a child tickled, the cool ocean breeze...teasing, rejuvenating. And of course, the beer and the weed accentuating it all to surreal levels. Fucking beautiful. It was almost two in the night when the iPod conked off and I decided to head back. It was a new moon. As I neared the hotel, the wind picked up. It was getting chilly. The streets were empty and there was a distinct smell of jasmine lingering about. I must admit, I was pretty high and happy at the point.
The property adjoining my hotel consisted of an old colonial era house, and a large attached courtyard. Strangely, there was no gate and its general shoddy state seemed to suggest that it had been abandoned some time ago. I could see my hotel in the distance as I passed the compound. Suddenly, I heard a strange noise, as if someone was playing a very flat trumpet. I thought it was a truck as some of them have similar sounding horns. I stepped to the side of the narrow road. Strangely, no truck passed by. As I stood there wondering, I heard the noise again, only this time it was not as intense as before. It was then I realized, that the sounds were coming from my left, not behind as I had initially thought. The source of the sounds was within the abandoned compound.
The property adjoining my hotel consisted of an old colonial era house, and a large attached courtyard. Strangely, there was no gate and its general shoddy state seemed to suggest that it had been abandoned some time ago. I could see my hotel in the distance as I passed the compound. Suddenly, I heard a strange noise, as if someone was playing a very flat trumpet. I thought it was a truck as some of them have similar sounding horns. I stepped to the side of the narrow road. Strangely, no truck passed by. As I stood there wondering, I heard the noise again, only this time it was not as intense as before. It was then I realized, that the sounds were coming from my left, not behind as I had initially thought. The source of the sounds was within the abandoned compound.
I stood at the boundary, peeking in, trying to make sense of the situation. It was pitch dark and I couldn't see anything. Suddenly, I saw a light being flashed at me from the other end of the compound. I was intrigued. The noise did an encore, and the light flashed again. Whatever it was, it had my attention now. In a sober state, I'd have walked away from the situation, But that night, I was anything but sober. I checked to see if there was anyone still out on the street, but it was empty. A few stray dogs looked up from their nightly forays, interested in my next step. As I made the decision to walk into the compound, they ran away. I was well and truly on my own. The jasmine smell grew stronger. I walked past the house, half expecting someone to notice me trespassing, but nothing happened. I reached the end of the compound and was met with a strange looking vehicle.
It was stretched out like a limousine, but wasn't very classy. There were no doors in the rear. Instead, there were huge windows. Even in my inebriated state, I understood that I was looking at a hearse van. Surely there was nothing to be scared of. But then the deathly trumpet played for a third time. It was definitely from within the car. The effects of alcohol and marijuana were being forcibly stripped from my system. I could feel my heart beating loudly. I peeped in from the front window and what I saw shocked me, to say the least
There were no seats but the rest of the front cabin seemed to be standard specification. A tightly wrapped cloth bundle lay on the floor of the car. Something was protruding out of the cloth though, and I almost retched when I saw that that something, was a human leg. There was a dead body in the front of the car which usually has a designated space for them at the rear. I turned back and started running. The dogs barked as I exited the compound. The temperature had dropped another couple of degrees, but I was sweating. The cold air singed my face and the smell of jasmine grew stronger still. The hotel gate was only a few meters away. I thought I bumped into someone just then, but kept on running. There was no time for apologies and I was scared of looking back anyway.
It was stretched out like a limousine, but wasn't very classy. There were no doors in the rear. Instead, there were huge windows. Even in my inebriated state, I understood that I was looking at a hearse van. Surely there was nothing to be scared of. But then the deathly trumpet played for a third time. It was definitely from within the car. The effects of alcohol and marijuana were being forcibly stripped from my system. I could feel my heart beating loudly. I peeped in from the front window and what I saw shocked me, to say the least
There were no seats but the rest of the front cabin seemed to be standard specification. A tightly wrapped cloth bundle lay on the floor of the car. Something was protruding out of the cloth though, and I almost retched when I saw that that something, was a human leg. There was a dead body in the front of the car which usually has a designated space for them at the rear. I turned back and started running. The dogs barked as I exited the compound. The temperature had dropped another couple of degrees, but I was sweating. The cold air singed my face and the smell of jasmine grew stronger still. The hotel gate was only a few meters away. I thought I bumped into someone just then, but kept on running. There was no time for apologies and I was scared of looking back anyway.
I burst into the hotel reception and blurted out my room number to the receptionist. She gave me my keys. I asked her if she had seen any strange occurrences lately. She nodded in the negative. I ran to my room and tried to sleep. But the cocktail of alcohol, marijuana, tobacco and adrenaline ensured that I spent an uneasy night.
The next day, I was still trying to make sense of the previous night's events. Part of me wanted to attribute it all to the dope in my system, forget it and move on, but there was another part of me which wanted to get the facts straight. Ultimately, logic triumphed and I decided to visit the compound again that night. Only this time, sober and better prepared for any emergencies.
The day passed by in a blur. I spent most of it indoors, sleeping and occasionally peeping out the window to get a look at the house, but it seemed pretty innocuous. In the evening I talked to my folks back home, let them know about the awesome time I had been having. All lies of course. Finally when the clock struck two, I gathered all my courage, and went downstairs. The receptionist was at her post. For the first time I looked at her for more than a few seconds. She was a typical Goan smart looking girl. I managed to steal a glance at her name tag, but wasn't able to read it very clearly. I deposited my keys with her, smiled, and made my way towards the compound.
I could see that the van was parked at its usual place and as soon as I stepped into the compound, the trumpet sounded loud and clear. It was cold. The first thing I did, since the logical part of my brain was in charge, was have a look at the number plate. I could not make any sense of what was written on it, which added to my fear. The lights flashed just then as I went around to check the back of the car. It was empty. I could feel my heart beating faster with every passing moment. It reached a crescendo as I came to the front of the car and looked in. Sure enough, there was a body inside, covered in a shroud like the previous day. My trembling fingers automatically reached the cellphone in the pocket of my jeans and started fumbling for the four key presses that would connect me with the police. My eyes were affixed on the dead body at all time. And then, it moved. It fucking moved.
The body turned on its side, and I heard the distinct 'click' of the van doors being unlocked. I was petrified and couldn't move. The door opened and a tall being stepped out. It was too dark to make out any particular features, but he was wearing white clothes, and appeared mighty pissed at me for having disturbed him. I thought I was going to die. My throat was so dry I wasn't even able to scream. And then the being asked me -
"Nimige Kannada gotha?"
I didn't understand what that meant, but nodded my head, more out of reflex than anything else.
"Sorry" he said, got into the van, straightened the backrest of the driver's seat and sped off. Everything was over in less than five minutes. It took me another five to figure out what had happened.
Apparently, there was no ghost to begin with. The driver of the hearse van probably didn't have a place to stay so he had to sleep in the van. And seeing as to how the bungalow was not in use, he must have thought it to be a nice, quiet place to spend the nights. And when he turned about in his sleep, his feet hit the steering wheel, activating the horn, or the adjacent switches, activating the lights. The van was registered in Karnataka, and the number plate too was in Kannada which is why I couldn't read it. And as I would later find out, the driver, when he came out of the car, asked me whether I spoke Kannada or not. Obviously that was the only language he knew.
What a relief! A sense of calm came overcame me as I headed back to the hotel. The receptionist wasn't there, but I knew where my key was, and took it. For the first time in two nights, I slept peacefully.
The next morning, I awoke to find the doors of the old house open, and a car parked inside the compound. No, it wasn't the hearse van, but a newer, modern car. I could also see an old couple there. I went down and asked if anyone knew them. Apparently, everyone did. They were the hotel's owners and had been visiting their daughter in Assam for the past month. I felt like going over and talking to them about my little encounter, which I did.
"Good afternoon, I am staying over at your hotel...lovely place." Flattery gets you everywhere. They invited me in.
"Why thank you!" they said in unison. They seemed really nice and warm. Their house, from the inside was very beautiful. Soon we were chatting over tea and some lovely cupcakes.
"You weren't here for the past few days...your house...it almost looked abandoned."
"Yes, we don't really enjoy the new year crowd so much. So we take a long vacation every year around the same time. I had asked these people to look after the house, but the buggers didn't bother."
"You know, you really should install a gate here. Your house was being used for illegal parking...God knows what else."
"Really!?!"
I told them everything. They listened intently.
"And you know, it seems so funny now, but at the time, I really thought I had encountered a ghost." The old couple looked at each other. A look of seriousness came over their faces and then the gentleman spoke to me.
"But son, you really did encounter a ghost. You said you could smell jasmine in the air. Have you seen any plants around?"
"No..." I said.
"And you also said you bumped into someone your first night out, which was a new moon..."
"Yes"
"Well, that was the spirit of a Portuguese girl who was killed here. She has been haunting this place for centuries. Comes out only on new moons. She's usually not malevolent, but there have been incidents...you were lucky."
I felt the blood drain from my face. The cake I was holding in my hand fell down and it somehow made the lady laugh.
"Oh stop it now! Can't you see he's scared enough as it is without you having to add to the poor boy's misery?"
"There is no ghost here" she continued. "My husband's just teasing you. The jasmine plants are in our backyard, totally invisible from the road. That is why you didn't see them."
I was so relieved. I joined in the laughter and told them. "And anyways, had there been a real ghost around, I don't think you'd have found anyone to manage the reception at nights, much less a woman."
This time, it was their turn to be surprised.
"But young man, we haven't had anyone managing the reception at night since..."
"Since when?!"
"...since the last girl committed suicide...poor girl. She was very smart. Wonder what went wrong..."
I left Goa that same evening and haven't returned since.
The next day, I was still trying to make sense of the previous night's events. Part of me wanted to attribute it all to the dope in my system, forget it and move on, but there was another part of me which wanted to get the facts straight. Ultimately, logic triumphed and I decided to visit the compound again that night. Only this time, sober and better prepared for any emergencies.
The day passed by in a blur. I spent most of it indoors, sleeping and occasionally peeping out the window to get a look at the house, but it seemed pretty innocuous. In the evening I talked to my folks back home, let them know about the awesome time I had been having. All lies of course. Finally when the clock struck two, I gathered all my courage, and went downstairs. The receptionist was at her post. For the first time I looked at her for more than a few seconds. She was a typical Goan smart looking girl. I managed to steal a glance at her name tag, but wasn't able to read it very clearly. I deposited my keys with her, smiled, and made my way towards the compound.
I could see that the van was parked at its usual place and as soon as I stepped into the compound, the trumpet sounded loud and clear. It was cold. The first thing I did, since the logical part of my brain was in charge, was have a look at the number plate. I could not make any sense of what was written on it, which added to my fear. The lights flashed just then as I went around to check the back of the car. It was empty. I could feel my heart beating faster with every passing moment. It reached a crescendo as I came to the front of the car and looked in. Sure enough, there was a body inside, covered in a shroud like the previous day. My trembling fingers automatically reached the cellphone in the pocket of my jeans and started fumbling for the four key presses that would connect me with the police. My eyes were affixed on the dead body at all time. And then, it moved. It fucking moved.
The body turned on its side, and I heard the distinct 'click' of the van doors being unlocked. I was petrified and couldn't move. The door opened and a tall being stepped out. It was too dark to make out any particular features, but he was wearing white clothes, and appeared mighty pissed at me for having disturbed him. I thought I was going to die. My throat was so dry I wasn't even able to scream. And then the being asked me -
"Nimige Kannada gotha?"
I didn't understand what that meant, but nodded my head, more out of reflex than anything else.
"Sorry" he said, got into the van, straightened the backrest of the driver's seat and sped off. Everything was over in less than five minutes. It took me another five to figure out what had happened.
Apparently, there was no ghost to begin with. The driver of the hearse van probably didn't have a place to stay so he had to sleep in the van. And seeing as to how the bungalow was not in use, he must have thought it to be a nice, quiet place to spend the nights. And when he turned about in his sleep, his feet hit the steering wheel, activating the horn, or the adjacent switches, activating the lights. The van was registered in Karnataka, and the number plate too was in Kannada which is why I couldn't read it. And as I would later find out, the driver, when he came out of the car, asked me whether I spoke Kannada or not. Obviously that was the only language he knew.
What a relief! A sense of calm came overcame me as I headed back to the hotel. The receptionist wasn't there, but I knew where my key was, and took it. For the first time in two nights, I slept peacefully.
The next morning, I awoke to find the doors of the old house open, and a car parked inside the compound. No, it wasn't the hearse van, but a newer, modern car. I could also see an old couple there. I went down and asked if anyone knew them. Apparently, everyone did. They were the hotel's owners and had been visiting their daughter in Assam for the past month. I felt like going over and talking to them about my little encounter, which I did.
"Good afternoon, I am staying over at your hotel...lovely place." Flattery gets you everywhere. They invited me in.
"Why thank you!" they said in unison. They seemed really nice and warm. Their house, from the inside was very beautiful. Soon we were chatting over tea and some lovely cupcakes.
"You weren't here for the past few days...your house...it almost looked abandoned."
"Yes, we don't really enjoy the new year crowd so much. So we take a long vacation every year around the same time. I had asked these people to look after the house, but the buggers didn't bother."
"You know, you really should install a gate here. Your house was being used for illegal parking...God knows what else."
"Really!?!"
I told them everything. They listened intently.
"And you know, it seems so funny now, but at the time, I really thought I had encountered a ghost." The old couple looked at each other. A look of seriousness came over their faces and then the gentleman spoke to me.
"But son, you really did encounter a ghost. You said you could smell jasmine in the air. Have you seen any plants around?"
"No..." I said.
"And you also said you bumped into someone your first night out, which was a new moon..."
"Yes"
"Well, that was the spirit of a Portuguese girl who was killed here. She has been haunting this place for centuries. Comes out only on new moons. She's usually not malevolent, but there have been incidents...you were lucky."
I felt the blood drain from my face. The cake I was holding in my hand fell down and it somehow made the lady laugh.
"Oh stop it now! Can't you see he's scared enough as it is without you having to add to the poor boy's misery?"
"There is no ghost here" she continued. "My husband's just teasing you. The jasmine plants are in our backyard, totally invisible from the road. That is why you didn't see them."
I was so relieved. I joined in the laughter and told them. "And anyways, had there been a real ghost around, I don't think you'd have found anyone to manage the reception at nights, much less a woman."
This time, it was their turn to be surprised.
"But young man, we haven't had anyone managing the reception at night since..."
"Since when?!"
"...since the last girl committed suicide...poor girl. She was very smart. Wonder what went wrong..."
I left Goa that same evening and haven't returned since.
1 comment:
Amazing,its like reading a novel....I would love to get an autograph on your book someday....
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