The Raconteur

Jyoti Prasad, unlike his name, had a rather dull-looking face. A nondescript face that would quickly fade from one’s memory like the thin morning mist after sunrise.

 

Every morning, Jyoti Prasad, a petty clerk in a government office, would catch the 8.05 local train from Kalyani, a satellite town situated at a distance of 50 kms from Kolkata, and reach his office located in the central business district of Kolkata.

 

He would always board the last compartment of the train along with a group of daily commuters from Kalyani. They, like him, were all in their mid-thirties. But with his prematurely grey hair and shabby way of dressing, Jyoti Prasad looked much older. During the journey, the group always managed to find some topic to engage in lively conversation. This greatly helped to pass the time during the daily dreary routine of commuting.

 

Jyoti Prasad sometimes tried to join in their conversation by saying something that he considered would interest them. But like his physical appearance, his attempts at conversation too were barely noticed by his fellow passengers. They would all smile and nod, as if to show that they were interested, but deep down Jyoti Prasad knew that they were bored with his mundane anecdotes. He would then sigh and silently wallow in self-pity.

 

But the world of Jyoti Prasad changed on that one particular day. As usual, he had boarded the 8.05 local train from Kalyani when he observed that there was some unusual excitement among his group of fellow passengers. He learnt that one of them had just returned after a trekking trip to Roopkund, an exotic location in the Indian Himalayas. Everyone was listening with rapt attention as the recently returned traveller related his experiences on the trip. Jyoti Prasad felt himself transported to the hills, as he listened to his co-passenger describing the wild beauty of the mountains and the exotic wonders of nature that he had encountered. As he was finishing his narration, he said with a shudder, “But, I will never forget the day we reached the Roop Kund Lake.”

 

The narrator paused for a moment to let his words sink in and then continued in a hushed voice. By this time, everyone, including Jyoti Prasad, was all ears to know what was coming next.

 

“There was this lake at an altitude of 16500 feet. It was partly frozen. The porters advised us not to touch the lake water as it was home to evil spirits. But we did not pay any heed to them and approached the shore. One of the members of our trekking team broke the thin ice on the surface and we were able to see the bottom of the lake as the water was crystal clear. What we saw made us recoil in horror. There were hundreds of skeletons at the bottom of the lake. It was an eerie sight. Later, I learnt that the skeletons were of those travellers who had perished in a snowstorm many centuries ago.”

 

The mood in the train compartment was now very sombre. Everyone was looking raptly at the narrator as he continued with the story of the skeletons.

 

But this time something snapped inside Jyoti Prasad. He could hardly recognize his own voice as he shouted in a shrill tone, “I have been to Roopkund and I have seen the skeletons too. But what happened to me when I was on a trek to Pindari Glacier in the Himalayan range, was something unique and unbelievable!”

 

Because of the unusual tone of his voice or maybe because of the present mood prevailing in the compartment, unlike other days, everyone turned their attention to Jyoti Prasad. 

 

“It was during the autumn of 1990. After 3 days of trek, we reached the Pindari Glacier Zero-Point. It was a very bright morning, cold and clear. We had our customary celebration of consuming Rasagollas (a popular sweetmeat of Kolkata) at Zero-Point. After spending some time there, it was decided that we should return to our camp. But I wanted to spend some more time at Zero-point and click some photographs. So, I asked my friends to start and said that I would catch up with them later. After they had gone, I was alone at Zero-Point for about an hour. I was happily clicking away, trying out several angles, exposures etc. Then I lay down on the grass and gazed at the glorious white peaks and the clear blue sky. I closed my eyes, savouring the moment and the peaceful atmosphere. I never knew when I fell asleep, A rumble of thunder woke me with a start. I looked at my watch and saw that I had dozed off for about 15 minutes. I got up and immediately started walking at a brisk pace towards Phurkia, our base camp.”

 

He paused and after seeing that he had everybody’s attention, continued, “I had hardly covered a mile or so when I saw dark ominous clouds over the peaks. There was not a soul in sight. I was all alone. I continued on and after some time, when I had just crossed the halfway mark to our camp, the clouds burst open. Rain came lashing down with full fury. It was pouring so heavily that I found it impossible to see anything in front of me. Lightning and thunder followed. It was terrifying in that open space. The thunderclaps echoed about the surrounding mountains. It seemed as if somebody had set off dynamites and was blowing up the mountains. Rainwater was gushing down the trail carrying a debris of slippery mud and small rocks, thus making the trek very difficult to negotiate. There was no cover and therefore I had no option but to venture forward.”

 

Every single member in the compartment was paying rapt attention as he went on, “I was now fully drenched and feeling cold and tired. Suddenly to my surprise I noticed a small opening on the side of the slope of the mountain. It was covered with dense shrubbery and offered some protection from the rain. I went near the opening and found that it led into a cave. I did not dare venture inside for fear that I might disturb some animal living inside. I was aware that there were no large animals at that altitude but I was not taking any chances. Anyway, the shrubs covering the opening offered a welcome cover from the rain and so I decided to stay put. Just then I heard a sound from inside the cave that made my blood freeze. It was the sound of the tinkling of ‘Ghungroos’ (an anklet with small bells that dancers wear). At first, I thought my ears were playing tricks. But when I listened closely, I could hear the sound clearly. It was unearthly and the thought of ghosts and paranormal things started to create a great fear in my mind. Being alone in a remote place added to my terror. I thought of running away from there, but the prospect of walking along the treacherous trail in the pouring rain, made me hesitate. Then, in a moment of foolhardiness, I decided to go inside the cave and inspect the source of the sound.”

 

He paused and took a deep breath. For the first time in his life, he saw that everybody’s eyes were focused on him.

 

“What happened after that, dada?”

 

“As I entered the cave, the sounds became louder. I could feel my heart thumping loudly against my chest. My throat had become dry. But I picked up courage and went further into the cave. As I stood there, I could now hear the tinkling sound coming intermittently, and clearly. I pointed my torchlight at the ceiling. What I saw made me laugh hysterically. You see, there were hundreds and hundreds of icicles hanging from the ceiling. They were so thin and delicate that whenever a slight breeze entered the cave they struck against each other and produced that eerie sound.”

 

He finished and looked around. Now everyone was looking at him in awe. Some of them even shook his hand saying, “You certainly had a great adventure, dada!”

 

Jyoti Prasad, basking in his new-found glory did not even feel guilty about having narrated an experience that his cousin had told him about long back, as his own.

 

He beamed at the group and said, as he prepared to get down,

“Tomorrow I promise to tell you about my experience with a ghost.”

 

Next day, as soon as Jyoti Prasad had sat down in the train compartment, he was reminded by his co-passengers about his promise.

 

But one of them said, “There is no such thing as ghosts or spirits. It is all poppycock.”

 

Jyoti Prasad said, “You may think I am being naïve. I was also not a believer of spirits, a fact that you might have discerned from my experience at the Pindari Glacier trail that I narrated yesterday. But let me tell you about an experience that I had when I was posted in a remote area bordering Bengal and Bihar (two Indian states).”

 

“I was asked by my office to go to a certain village and collect data for census. The village was about 15 km from the nearest town. But there was no road connecting it and so I had no other alternative but to walk. After taking directions from a teashop owner, I started towards the village. It was around 8 AM and since it was winter, the walk was not tiring. There was a narrow foot trail and on both sides there were green paddy fields. It was a marvelous sight to behold. After about 5 kms, the path entered a jungle. The teashop owner had warned me of this and had also advised that if I kept to the path, I would not have to worry about encountering any wild animals. By noon, I think I must have covered about 10-11 kms when the most unexpected thing happened. The path split into two like the letter ‘Y’. Now, I had no idea which path to take, because both the trails looked well-trodden. I had also not met a single soul during this journey and so the chances of meeting anybody from this point onwards also seemed unlikely. But being quite tired and hungry, I sat down by the foot of a tree and ate my packed lunch.”

 

He paused and took a gulp of water before continuing, “I must have fallen asleep for some time. I woke up with a start when I heard someone calling. I opened my eyes and saw a young army man. He asked me what I was doing there in the middle of nowhere. When I narrated my predicament, he uttered a sympathetic sound. He told me he belonged to the village where I was headed and offered to accompany me till the end of the jungle. He told me that he was returning to the frontline after visiting his family. When we came to the edge of the jungle, he pointed towards the houses at a distance and said that that was the village I was looking for. I thanked him profusely. He smiled and gave a smart military salute and disappeared into the jungle.”

 

“When I reached the Panchayat office (a governing body) in the village, I found that it was deserted except for a lone watchman. I told him about the purpose of my visit and asked to see the Pradhan (Head of the Panchayat). He said that everyone had gone to the village school ground for some function. With nothing to do, I proceeded towards the school ground. I found that a crowd had gathered there. The Pradhan, who was standing at the entrance, knew me by sight. He greeted me warmly and requested me to come up to the dais. He told me that they were gathered there to pay their respects to the village hero who had died in battle. When I ascended the dais, I saw a framed picture of a man on the table decked with garlands, a lighted lamp placed on either side. As I drew near, I could see that it was a young man in military uniform. With thumping heart, I glanced at the face. It was none other than the  young companion whom I had met in the jungle, a little while back.”

 

Finishing his story, Jyoti Prasad said, “Now you tell me, whether I should believe in spirits or not. You see, I was not the only one to have experienced such an incident. When I told the Pradhan about my meeting this army man, he did not ridicule me. Rather, he said that in the recent past, a few outsiders who had visited the village had narrated similar incidents of having been helped by the young military man, who alas was no more.”

 

 Jyoti Prasad could see that every one of his co-passengers was looking at him with new-found respect. This time too, he did not feel the slightest guilt for passing off a story that he had read in some obscure magazine, as his own.

 

Jyoti Prasad now looked forward to his morning journey with renewed vigour. His office had a library that had a very large collection. Since he did not have much work at the office, he spent his time reading books and every now and then narrated some of the stories to his train companions, as if he had experienced these adventures himself.

 

His fabricated anecdotes covered various subjects. One day, someone on the train was arguing that animals and birds do not carry any sense of revenge and whatever they show in the films was nonsense.

 

Jyoti Prasad seized the moment and recounted how he had been subjected to an attack by a murder of crows when he was posted in Malda, a town in Bengal. He said that the crows attacked him one day when he came out of his house. The neighbour, who was standing nearby shooed away the birds and advised him to avoid wearing white. Jyoti Prasad was baffled at this strange bit of advice. But oddly enough, he found that the crows did not attack him when he wore anything other than white. So one day, he asked his neighbour the reason for this strange behaviour. The neighbour said that the previous tenant of that house, a lawyer, while plucking fruits from the tree, had caused the fall of a crow’s nest to the ground, resulting in the death of the new born chicks. Next morning when the lawyer had came out of the house wearing his usual white clothes, he had been savagely attacked by the crows. The lawyer had been forced to move out of the house as he was persecuted every time he came out of his house.

 

Jyoti Prasad’s ability to narrate stories became so skillful and exciting that he became an integral part of the team. As he spun his stories, each one better than the last one, he became passionate and involved and even started to believe that the experiences were his own.

 

Then in the year 1995, during the months of May & June, Jyoti Prasad did not turn up to catch the morning local train. His co-passengers thought that he might have gone on some exotic adventure.

 

Then, during the first week of July, Jyoti Prasad returned, looking pale and haggard. When asked about his health, he said that his wife had recently passed away in an accident. Everyone was sympathetic and the mood in the compartment became very quiet and sombre.

 

Jyoti Prasad started recalling the events that lead to his wife’s sad and premature death.

 

He remembered how his wife, just after their wedding, had confided to him about how much she loved the huge oak tree in the front garden of her parents’ home. She had told him that the tree had been planted by her as a child and she had nurtured it like her own baby. She had said she would die instantly if something awful happened to that tree. He started to laugh but stopped when he saw the anger on his wife’s face.

 

After the death of his in-laws, Jyoti Prasad, alongwith his wife, went to live in her huge paternal home. He hated the big oak tree that had grown like a huge monster blocking the wonderful façade of the house. But he did not dare to propose felling it, as he knew his wife’s views on the subject.

 

But one day he was forced to take a decision. His neighbour had been complaining that one of the branches was extending into his boundary and was a nuisance on his manicured lawn. So one day, while his wife was out shopping in Calcutta, he arranged to cut off the offending branch.

 

When his wife returned home, she saw that a branch of her precious oak tree had been cut off. She became hysterical. Screaming and crying at the top of her voice, she ran to the tree and banged her head again and again on its trunk. Blood started flowing from the wound and she fainted from the pain and shock.

 

Jyoti Prasad rushed her to the nearest hospital where the doctor said that she had lapsed into a coma. Jyoti Prasad’s grief knew no bounds as he cursed himself for his thoughtless act.

 

Weeks rolled by without any improvement in his wife’s condition. Then one day the doctor called to tell him that his wife had opened her eyes and was responding well to treatment.

 

Jyoti Prasad was overjoyed. As he rushed out of his house to go to the hospital he glanced at the oak tree. To his utter surprise he saw a few new green leaves growing out from the same spot where the branch had been cut.

 

After that day Jyoti Prasad never thought about felling that tree. Even his neighbour was sympathetic as Jyoti Prasad narrated the incident to him.

 

Then came the fateful day in the month of May 1995. Jyoti Prasad had come home early, as the Met Department had warned of an impending summer gale that evening.

 

After having dinner, he and his wife were preparing to go to bed. His wife was getting ready for her customary evening bath, before bedtime. It was slightly chilly, so she asked Jyoti Prasad to take out the water immersion heater that they used regularly in the winter months.

 

Jyoti Prasad watched his wife enter the bathroom. There was a cool breeze coming through the window as he closed his eyes and lay down.

 

Suddenly there was a blinding flash of lightening. It was so powerful that he was nearly blinded even though his eyes were closed. Then immediately there was a deafening crack of thunder that shook the entire house. At that very moment, he heard his wife’s loud bloodcurdling scream from the bathroom. Then the power went out and everything went dark.

 

Switching on the emergency light, he rushed and forced open the bathroom door. He found his wife lying immobile on the floor, with the electric heater coil lying on one side. He shook her and felt for her pulse, but there was none. He carried her to the bedroom and then he found that there were severe burns on both her hands and legs. He now understood that she had been electrocuted. As the phone lines were down, he rushed out of the house to get some help.

 

As he came out he saw an eerie sight. The lightening that had woken him up had struck the oak tree. Its huge trunk was broken in half and the tree lay there, shattered and lifeless.

 

Jyoti Prasad sighed as he recalled the incident once more. As he opened his eyes he saw that his co-passengers were looking at him with sympathy.

 

Jyoti Prasad could not resist sharing this anecdote with them. For the first time, something weird had actually happened in his life.

 

So he narrated the entire incident to them. But as he finished narrating, he found to his dismay that they remained strangely quiet and unresponsive.

 

During the next few days, he found that his co-passengers were trying to avoid him. He even heard them whispering, “You know, Jyoti da must have been deeply affected by his wife’s death. Otherwise what is the need for concocting such a story. It is very sad.”

 

Jyoti Prasad was dumbfounded. He understood now that there was no place for him in that group.

 

He now boards the first compartment of the 8.05 AM local from Kalyani.

 

If by chance you happen to board the first compartment of that local, you can hear Jyoti Prasad narrating his experiences at the Pindari glacier and other such tales to a group of engrossed listeners.

 

But you will never hear him speak about the incident surrounding his wife’s death.