That Rainy Afternoon

It was just 6 pm on 16th June and it was drizzling. The sky was darkened with the accumulation of Cumulo Nimbus clouds. Flashes of lightning with the bolts of thunder created a mysterious romantic environment.

I was taking rest in the guest house of Ramgarh forest. Outside far beyond the smoky horizon, there laid the chain of grey hilly ridges - spurs of the Chhota Nagpur plateau. Far Bustar hill Myna was singing in a melancholic tone. The cold wind was entering through the open window kissing my whole body, whispering in my ear that something was going to happen- very mysterious, very horrible. Bored with monotony, tormented with disgust, I took up my diary in my hand, the diary which I used to write during my college life.

Most of the pages contain the poems about Smita, my college girlfriend, my one and only girlfriend - an oasis in the desert of my life. She was beautiful, she was mesmerizing. She was my love, she was my life. In classes, while I touched her soft and gentle hand, electricity would pass through my whole body. She was enchanting in her beauty- an angel of Heaven, a nymph of the city Alaka. We were so madly in love with each other that we were two bodies but one soul. We were just about to marry. Both of us were students of Physics. While studying in the final year, she went to visit her maternal uncle living in Bilaspur. With eyes full of tears, she bade me good-bye while going there. Consoling her burning soul, I told that just for some moments, we were being separated. We would be together again. But who would know then that we were going to be separated forever?

After two days, I received the shocking news from Smita's father, Mr. Vasanth Bhandari. He had phoned me. In a broken voice, he murmured that Smita's Maruti car had dropped off from the hill due to the landslide in the plateau region. Smita had died. I was shocked totally. The phone dropped off from my hand. I was speechless. Tears began to fall from my eyes.

While I was obsessed with that thought, suddenly the electricity of the guest house went off for no reason, just for no reason.

The servant Ratan had left at about 4 pm and in the guest room, now there was no one. Taken by surprise, I began to search for candlesticks and when my all attempts went in vain, I came to the balcony. The outside was just scenic. The landscape was so beautiful and it was beggar's description. Cool wind blew blowing my hairs and whispering in my ear that Smita was near. "Is Smita still alive? Had her father lied" I questioned myself? Smita's thoughts started to haunt my mind and brain."All religions say souls are immortal. Maybe, still, now Smita's dissatisfied soul is wandering about the forests and hills. Tonight is a full moon night. Native people (Adivasi) of here say on that very night, dissatisfied souls of those persons who have suffered premature deaths will come down at the hilltop." I said to myself.

With these very thoughts, anxiety and fear attacked me and the blood in my vein seemed to curdle. Suddenly inner in the drawing-room, the land phone started to ring. Somehow, I took the receiver in my hand and said in trembling voice "Hello. Who's there?" A shrill womanly voice came from the opposite side, "Hi Jeet! How are you?" The receiver fell on the ground from my trembling hand.

My blood pressure began to rise and reach a higher level. Believe me, it was my Smita's voice. Still, now I am pretty much sure that it was Smita's voice. Thoughtless I ran and somehow found a candlestick. When I kindled it and returned to the drawing-room, the truth was beyond my imagination. The wire of the landline phone was disconnected, someone had cut it off. My brain began to ache. I fell on the sofa and heard the sounds of air brakes and horns of a Maruti car in front of the forest guest room but when I opened the front door, saw no one. 

Paralyzed in fear, I was going to be mad. In fear, pain, love, and anxiety, thence I shouted 'Smita.............….....!!!!!