The Black House

   The flames from the bonfire danced to the tune of the crackling woods. It’s illuminance lighting the area around, where three friends sat slightly arched back, one hand resting on the grassy earth, the other holding a can of beer, and their legs extended. The fourth one, was lying a little farther, away from their chatter and where the radiance from the fire couldn’t hamper his view of the star-studded sky. After all, this was the sole reason he was here for. Laying down and watching the stars sparkle was a kind of meditation for him, something which he missed when in Delhi. The only sparkling he found in the capital was that of neon sign boards. Was there even a night sky there? Because the space above was always filled with smoke and pollution, hiding the beauty of the shining heavenly bodies behind. While his three friends sang, shouted, and hooted, he was calm. The cool mountain breeze made the total experience blissful.

   He was enjoying the moment, when a few minutes later he noticed silence followed by mumbles. Curious, he glanced toward them. All three of his friends were now sitting closer, engaged in a discussion which seemed kind of serious. Then one of them looked behind and called.

   “Amit! Come, join us,” Shiv shouted.

   “Nah! I’m fine here and least interested to talk about girls right now.” He replied in a voice lower than a yell.

   “Oh, come on! Shirish is sharing his haunting experience.” Atul said.

   “Not interested.”

   “Amit, we are talking about girls.” Shiv said. “But, about the dead ones. Witches and churails.” He mocked.

   All three of them laughed.

   “Are you coming?” Atul asked.

   Amit knew neither of them had ever experienced the supernatural, but the atmosphere was right for such haunted talks. It’s time he shared his. “I have an experience to share.”

   “Really? Then what are you waiting for?” Shirish said. “Let’s see, whose experience is more horrifying, yours or mine?”

   Amit joined them. “Pass me a can.” He said to Atul.

   All three of them locked their eyes on him while he took a sip.

   He began. “I had this experience last year when I went to Dhar alone.” He continued. “One day I was trekking along with my local guide. When we reached the outskirts of Dhar, we found a hamlet with some fourteen fifteen metal roof huts. Among them, a little farther, stood out a house. The guide said it was abandoned and it was known among the locals as ‘the black house’.”

   “I get it, a typical haunted house story.” Shirish interrupted.

   “Let me finish, then you can judge about its typicality.” Amit glared at him.

   Shirish raised his hands in an apology gesture.

   “Why would anyone name it so weird?” Atul expressed his confusion.

   “Simple, the house must belong to someone engaged in black magic.”

   “If you all are done with your speculations, shall I continue?” A frustrated Amit said.

   “Guys, please let him complete.” Shiv requested the other two.

   Both of them moved their fingers in a gesture of zipping their mouths.

   Amit began. “This place was in a valley, surrounded by mountains. An idea struck my mind, and I asked the guide if it was possible to buy that house.”

   “I bet you thought of it as your holiday cottage amidst the mountain and you pictured yourself shoveling the snow after a heavy snowfall.” Shirish interrupted again.

   Amit rolled his eyes to which Shirish reacted by placing a finger on his lips.

   He continued. “The guide’s face went pale as if I had challenged him for a life risking dare. He said the house was not only abandoned but haunted as well. And nobody dared to even trespass its shadow. The expression in his eyes when he said that was something that aroused my curiosity and I asked about what happened there.”

   “Pass me another can.” Amit took a last sip and placed the empty can behind. Then he continued. “I am narrating now in the guide’s words. Some ten years ago, a family of five lived in that house. Father used to sell vegetables in the Dhar market. Mother used to take care of her two children, a twelve-year-old daughter and a fourteen-year-old son. While their twenty-five-year-old son served in the army. They were a very happy and content family. The elder son used to arrive home during festivals, especially during the Diwali. On one such occasion, he was to arrive home on the night of Diwali. His father and siblings left in the afternoon to receive him from the Dhar bus stand. While the mother stayed home to decorate the house and light the lamps. When they hadn't returned until night, the mother grew anxious and requested her neighbors to find out where they were. They returned with bad news. The father had received their son but while the four were returning back from the bus stand their vehicle lost balance and fell off the road into the gorge. They all died. When the mother heard the news, she couldn’t control her emotions and went crazy. Somehow the house caught fire and she was burned down with it. People say she had set herself on fire because she couldn’t bear the fact that she had lost her children and husband and now was left all alone in this world.”

   “Quite a tragedy.” Shiv said.

   Amit nodded. “Very unfortunate.” He continued. “Since then, every night on Diwali, the villagers heard a crying and screaming woman. They claimed her wailing was loud enough to drown the noise of crackers. They even asserted that hundreds of burning lamps out of nowhere lit the house. And then again the house burns down like it did years ago. The cycle goes on. It’s like the woman’s spirit is trapped in some kind of time loop.”

   “Now, that’s too much.” Shirish argued. “I don’t believe you.”

   “I didn’t either, so I decided to witness the happenings myself.”

   “Oh, so that’s why you missed being home on Diwali last year?” Atul asked.

   In response Amit nodded.

   “What did you see?”

   He shrugged. “I didn’t see a woman or her ghost or any spirit. And I guess, if there was any my visible range of vision was inadequate to witness such beings. But I did see the house lightened up by itself with many burning lamps and I did hear the wailing of a wife, of a mother.”

   By now all the three had an expression of shock as if they had seen the ghost of that woman themselves.

   Amit concluded. “Ever since that incident, no one in the village has celebrated Diwali. The night I was there not even a single house had burned a lamp. There was just this black house illuminated with ghost lights.”