The Knock

The Knock

It was one of those chilling December nights when the world was slumbering beneath a blanket of frost. I was sleeping sound in my Government quarter stationed in the secluded hills of Kurung kumey district of Arunachal Pradesh- a district that's got a reputation so shady, other tribes treat it like the Mogambo of the states. As I dreamt of less spooky things, this place's vibe hung in the air, thicker than suspense in a horror movie. It was my first posting after appointment as a Teacher in a remote school of this far flung district and all I've heard about the locals was that they're more head-chopping enthusiasts than conversation starters. Scary, right? But, duty calls, even if it comes with a side of potential spookiness.

The clock had barely struck eleven when an ominous knock echoed through the silence, jolting me from a peaceful slumber. Panic surged within me, and I strained my drowsy voice to ask, "kaun hai?" A heavy silence hung on the other side, intensifying my unease.

Struggling to come out of my cozy warm bed, I reluctantly dragged myself towards the door, shrouded in a boxer shorts and my old yet favourite white tee-shirt. The frigid air gnawed at me, adding to my growing apprehension and the bone chilling symphony of that night made me a little worried.
Rubbing my eyes that were only half convinced they were open I decided to adopt a "look before you leap" policy and as I approached the door, my heart raced, and couldn't help but peep through the cracks of the wooden window of my old government barrack. There, standing just beyond the threshold, was a shadowy figure, cradling something in his hand.
I could see his silhouette against the light of a half-moon night but the long object in his right hand was not visible enough.
"Kaun hai?" I hollered once more, my words swallowed by the silence. This strange visitor refused to utter a single word, unlike any ordinary person, seemingly indifferent to my anxious inquiries.
My mind, on the other hand, started sketching out scenes with  grotesque images of sharp, deadly weapons, fueled by memories of gory Hollywood films I had watched over the years.

I knew that my meager door would provide little resistance if it came under assault. It was a government barrack after all, not known for its fortifications. I could practically hear it begging for mercy – a gentle shove, and it would come crumbling down. Meanwhile, Mr. Mysterious Visitor continued to knock, each thud increasing in intensity. The howling wind outside provided a fleeting distraction from the ominous, bone-chilling quiet that permeated the night.

Despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins, I remained frozen, resisting the urge to scratch an itch or fidget. A whirlwind of plans spiraled through my mind. Should I confront this intruder head-on, or wait until he forced his way in? I considered brandishing my dao, or even shouting for help, though the nearest neighbors were a considerable distance away. Countless ideas, some sensible, others bordering on the absurd, occupied my thoughts as the stranger's knocking grew more vigorous. By now, I could hear my own heartbeats, and I wondered if he, too, could hear it beating like Bhangra beats, amplified by the eerie stillness.

With bated breath, I pressed my eye against the narrow gap in the window to observe the man outside. He appeared to be in his forties, of medium build, and wore an oversized jacket along with knee-length camouflaged shorts—an unusual choice for a winter night. But his silence disturbed me more than his wierd dress code. He clutched a torch in his left hand, while the object concealed in his right hand remained shrouded in mystery. The gum boots he wore hinted at a purpose that only added to my growing trepidation.

The knocking escalated from eerie to threatening, pounding with a relentless force. A sense of fear mingled with annoyance. "Why won't he speak?" I muttered, my patience dwindling rapidly. Though I had a dao (machete) in my hand, the picture of butchering someone made me nauseous. I knew I couldn't stand the gush of bloods and slashed human flesh.

But as each blow against the door grew more powerful, my patience finally gave way. Filled with a mixture of fear and frustration, my brain was on overdrive. I moved in front of the door, ready to confront my tormentor. My thoughts raced as I pondered my options. After a dramatically long inhale, I shouted, "Arey, kaun hey tum? Kal aao."( Hey! Who are you? Come back tomorrow.)But the only thing that RSVP'd was the silence, leaving me with a one-sided conversation and a door on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Spying through the window like a nosy neighbor, I watched the mysterious figure turn and retreat into the night. Relief washed over me, and I murmured to myself, "Good riddance." Basking in my moment of triumph, I began musing again and my ego decided to throw a party, imagining how I'd boast about scaring off an intruder. Crafting the perfect heroic saga, I was waist-deep in self-glorification when, bang! The rusty door crashed my solo celebration. The guy had a change of heart. The suspense and fear began to claw at my sanity. I couldn't take it anymore; The suspense of it. Clutching the dao firmly in my right hand, I swung the door open with a creak loud enough for an actionfull soundtrack.

There I stand now face to face with my tormentor, ready for a showdown. Gathering all my strength, I pointed the dao, attempting to intimidate him with my emergency acting skills and feigned heroism. All he responded was a motionless stare of surprise for few seconds, which seemed the longest suspenseful pause I ever had. I couldn't intimidate him with my dramatic posture & heroic dialogue and so I challenged his stare with mine. His squinted eyes made it a little tough for me to focus and the rhythmic chirping of crickets provided an awkward background soundtrack to our standoff, atleast for me.

Then, to my surprise, the stranger extended his right hand toward me. I cautiously lowered my guard and examined what he offered—two bamboo skewers laden with pieces of Mithun meat.

A sigh of relief escaped my lips, "Oh ! I thought... Never mind." I faked a smile to conceal my embarassment. "Thank you so much for this." I said, to show gratitude but the stranger remained silent, gesturing to indicate that he was both mute and deaf. I was now ashamed, relieved, shocked and surprised, all at once.
My own fear had played tricks on my mind, turning an innocent gesture of goodwill into a nightmarish confrontation. I joined my hands  in a gesture of thanks to the generous villager and apologized, even though I doubted he fully comprehended my apology. With a final, enigmatic smile, the visitor disappeared into the night, leaving me to grapple with the unpredictability of human nature and the stories we tell ourselves in the dark.