The Ghost

In a little village, not far away from the glaring glances of neon lights of some unnamed cosmopolitan city, inhabited a spirit named Shanku. Shanku was a notorious mischief-maker and his catalogue of rascality escalated by leaps and bounds with each passing day. To all the rural inhabitants, he grew into an increasing menace that needed to be suppressed by some divine intervention. A happy-go-lucky spectre with no grudge against any human being, Shanku dwelt in a cursed banyan tree beside a charming water body behind a dilapidated Kali temple. An elongated muddy road between the temple and the water body surfaced with indistinct grandeur. As the veil of darkness descended on the lap of benign nature, Shanku's supernatural activities haunted the entire village. No passerby who passed through the muddy road in shadowy darkness was granted an exemption from his magical skills. He transformed himself from an invisible presence to translucent or barely visible wispy shapes. He considered himself the "lord of the village". Villagers grew restless with this noisy ghost. His loud and frightful groans caused the people to seal up the doors of the building at night.

            

Raghunath was a priest of the village with shining innocence and piety. Once he happened to pass through the Kali temple during the evening hours with a lantern in his hand. Seeing him coming, Shanku started working at his wondrous wonders. With his magical prowess, he excavated the mud of the lean road and a shackled skeleton was unearthed. Such a sight frightened the young priest so much so that he never happened to cross the lonely, desolate crossing even in the wee hours of dusk.

            

Again, Kamala di, the respected village teacher attempted to reach the town through this damned route. Shanku appeared with a whopping bloody head in front of Kamala di with tripping down the head. He made the head split off and disappear all of a sudden and again re-appear in a revolving style to scare her away.

                

In a suitably misty and spooky evening, he hired his popular paranormal pursuit to affright a lanky teenaged boy by appearing in a shadowy outline and walking on water. His fuzzy unsubstantial image wreaked havoc everywhere in the village. He horrified people by invisibly moving and influencing objects. He even animated corpses. He breathed air and exhaled dust. Sometimes he vanished as vapour and other times he gibbered and whined into the earth. Though he had no intention to exact revenge on an enemy, he always immortalized his throbbing presence by his peculiar ghoulish art. Bizarre events took place and the villagers were awed by such unearthly incidents. Shanku shouted abusive curses on everybody which echoed throughout the night. Several optical illusions dazzled the beholders. A strange ecstatic feeling overpowered Shanku. Sometimes he glided and sometimes he made heavy footfalls with a thunderous sound. People were unable to defy disbelief. Unresolvable difficulties relayed. Clever hopes expired. The place was filled with a strange smell, almost sickeningly sweet----too sweet, too intense.

              

It so happened one day that Shanku fell in love with a tender aged village girl. Anita was a school-going girl who attracted Shanku's attention. Little did one know that this ghost had a romantic heart and mind. Little did one know that this fragile love would cast a dying fall on Shanku reducing him from shapes unknown to airy nothing. One evening he was dangling merrily from one of the lean branches of the banyan tree. Anita along with her two co-mates was silently walking past the accursed road. Mesmerized by Anita's glowing beauty, Shanku cut off a branch and blocked the road. Bewildered by cryptic happenings, Anita and her co-mates shouted for help. Shanku's amorous nature flared up. He shuffled and ambled through an escalating series of erotic phrases to convey his deepest feelings for Anita. In a fine frenzy, Shanku voiced " Come, Lady, die to live!" Knowing not wherefrom the voice arose Anita replied " Who are you? What do you want from me?" In a soulful tone, Shanku said " Hear my soul speak of the very instant that I saw you, Did my heart fly at your service." In a witty manner, Anita blurted out " I pray you, do not fall in love with me, For I am falser than vows made in wine." Shanku, unable to resist his emotion said: " I humbly do beseech of your pardon, For too much loving you". Anita retorted " Love hath made thee a tame snake". She gave out a loud laugh which equalled the shrill cackle of Shanku. With more courage mustered Anita declared " If this is true that you love me such then promise me something." Shanku readily agreed. Anita dictated " Redeem this village and its naive residents of your binding spell. Let this place be set free." Shanku's heart started aching. The unexpected harsh blow from his endearing love tortured him. Pained and piqued, scarred and scraped, Shanku gave out a loud yell and then fell silent.

                

A rigorous storm ensued in the next morning. Doors and windows remained shut throughout the day time. Rain percolated down the ground and wind howled and bellowed. When the dusk set in the raging wind came to a halt. The pitter-patter of raindrops seized. The sky became clear. A full moon adorned the blue sky. The leaves of the banyan tree glistened in the moonlight. The water body sparkled and shined. It was a pleasant, quiet evening. Every villager gleamed with happiness. The banyan tree seemed to sprout out new shoots and appeared to be joyous. The blissful serenity was enchanting. It was as if the village had washed off every sin it had nurtured so long and regained a lost vitality so as to embrace a new life and a sunny hope.