New Beginnings – The Year 1985
My youngest uncle was getting married, and his fiancée had one condition: he had to move into his own house before the wedding. Despite his meager earnings, he agreed, as he was madly in love. He found a house for rent in the remote area of Govindpur, where electricity and water supply were scarce, ensuring a low rent.
The House
The day he moved into the house, my grandmother cried her eyes out, hoping he would change his plans. My father dropped him off at the house. According to my father, my uncle would occupy only a room and a small portion of the long verandah partitioned as a kitchen. The landlord and his wife lived in the next two rooms with their own kitchen. The bathroom was shared, with a huge well for water in the courtyard. My father assured my grandmother that my uncle wouldn’t stick around in that house for long.
The Return
His words turned true. Within a month, my uncle was home, but there was no reason to celebrate. Instead, everyone was worried. My uncle returned a different man from that house. He had a fever, and when it subsided, he refused to talk. Even his wedding plans didn’t motivate him anymore. My grandmother was beside herself with terror. When my father investigated, he found out something that possibly explained my uncle’s behavior.
After visiting the neighbors, my father learned that the landlord had lost his only son to a tragic incident a few years ago, and the room my uncle lived in was the son’s. After their son’s death, the parents withdrew from society, and it was well known that nobody could stay in that house for long. These words stirred my dad’s curiosity, but a general reluctance to speak against a neighbor discouraged him from probing further.
The Revelation
A few days later, the landlord sent a letter urging my uncle to either pay the rent or vacate the room. This was the opportunity my dad was waiting for. As he was setting out, my uncle came rushing out.
“Sejda, please don’t go there. I don’t want my things back. They can throw them away if they want.”
His words caught my father and the others by surprise. Once he settled down, the story came tumbling out.
“There are ghosts in that house,” he said, with great difficulty admitting it to himself and others. “Not a single night have I slept in that bed alone!”
“What do you mean?” my grandmother asked.
“Maa, I always felt someone getting in and out of bed. In the beginning, I blamed it on my imagination, but it wasn’t, and the room used to get so cold.”
My grandmother was at her wit’s end. She couldn’t understand why her son didn’t tell her all this before. Moreover, did he plan to stay there with his newly wedded wife?
My father was clearly angry now. “So what makes you run away now? Shouldn’t you have done this at the first instance?”
“Sejda,” he continued, “all hell broke loose the day before I came here. I had returned late from work. There was no electricity, so using a candle, I managed to reach the well to draw some water. There, I found my landlord and his wife. We chatted a lot, and I told them I would be going home the next day. Hearing that, they reminded me to keep the keys with them.
“Early next morning, when I went to their door, it was locked. I didn’t know what to do with the keys, so I went next door, and that is when I heard that they had left for Jhargram the previous evening. In fact, they showed me my landlord’s spare keys, which I knew they always left with them before going out. My heart dropped to my stomach. If they weren’t home, then whom did I speak to last night? As these thoughts were running like wild mice in my head, the neighbor started speaking about a dead son, and that is when I lost consciousness.”
The Only Outcome
Everyone had a lot of questions, but seeing my uncle’s state of mind and his reluctance to repeat the situation, my father prevented further probing. In fact, my dad was so mad at the landlord that he wrote a stern letter, citing my uncle’s miserable condition following his stay at the house. For almost wrecking the life of a promising young man. As for his belongings, my grandmother managed to get her hands on them and ensured they were burnt, erasing any traces of what she called “the unholy place.”
And did we hear from the landlord again? Did he apologize for keeping the innocent in the dark about the hauntings at his house?
No, never!
By Deepanwita Kar
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