House In The Corner

THIS IS NOT A STORY

THIS IS WHAT HAS HAPPENED.

I was slapped very hard, I could not understand what was going on with me as I was the only living soul in the bungalow. Was it that I was actually slapped or I was just dreaming? Did I sleep while working on my laptop in the warmth of my bed or what? There was complete darkness and I was completing my presentation to be submitted tomorrow morning.

The pain and heat emanating from my cheek was proof of something intriguing happening around me. Even before I could think of moving out of the bed, the other half of my old bed made a creaking sound as if someone had just turned side while sleeping. Each shred of my body was getting paralyzed. I was numbed to the core. My heart was pounding and trying to come out of my mouth.

The light had a playful nature in the city of Jammu, it would show for a little time and then hide. I was new to the city, transferred only a week back. Fortunately, I got a big house on rent, away from the public gaze. At the dead-end of the road so it was not quite frequented. In front of the bungalow was a garden which looked more like a graveyard with long grass and a thatched hut perhaps made for some caretaker of the garden, who probably was never there. The chirping of crickets and howling of dogs were the only sounds that would offer me companionship in those dark cold mushy nights of December.

Till the time I myself experienced it, I would only fancy horror to be inextricably associated with darkness solitude and erring silence. Today my house was in darkness but it was not still, it appeared as if someone was moving out there, someone walking in soft pounding steps. Suddenly there was a whisper in the distant chamber of the room. An unearthly hand rises, opens the latch of the door, and leaves it open. Heavy drops of rain slithered along the side window. And the window panes started fluttering like the pages of a notebook. The strike of lightning revealed an unhuman figure moving in my room.

A groan reverberated inside me but could not come out and died in the terrains of my throat. I was feeling suffocated with fear and pain. I salivated my dry throat and attempted to cry but to no avail, I felt a cord of metal piercing my throat and deeper into my neck I gasped as it pressed against my neck dilating my pupils as the shade of my face was turning from red to blue. Finally, I slumped onto the pillow that offered me some solace amidst excruciating pain and fear. I lost myself to sleep thinking how long I will have to wait to escape this room

The clouds had left the sky for the morning sun to come. The clitter and clatter of raindrops had receded, the aroma of wetland had seeped up in the room, but it had a certain element of pungency to its character, the drapes were shut lending shades of grey to the constituents of the room, a buoyant gloominess hung large in the room along with fear and mystery that was etched on each brick of the room. I mustered the courage and collected myself from the bed. The other half of the bed's mattress was indented as if someone big and bulky had been sleeping there. 

I checked life in me by pinching my arm. Yes, I was alive, now I got down from the bed and came in front of the mirror.

Actually there was an impression of a hand on my face. My groin was wet. Fear psychosis was playing on my mind. What could this be! A halo of uncertainty hung in the air.

I washed my face, changed my clothes and without finishing the morning chores, I rushed to my office. The scene outside was quite different from what was happening inside those walls. The sky was powered with the most vivacious of colours. The morning dew had kissed the grass and rendered it wet. The mere cue of twitter of the birds and bees around changed the season of my heart from frozen cold to autumn.

I collected my spirits and settled in office, trying to put a veil to my disturbed facade, I got engrossed in work. Everything was fine until the clock struck six, and people started leaving for their homes. By each and every passing minute, I was getting more and more fixed to my chair. Another hour passed, the office boy who was getting frustrated seeing me glued to the chair, came inside feigning his annoyance, asked me if he could leave. But the mere cue of staying alone gave me goosebumps, I packed for the day.

I had to prepare my dinner and purchase sabzi so I went towards the market. As I was doing my groceries, I noticed from the corner of my eyes the vendors were gesturing towards me and whispering something to each other which I couldn't make out. I realized I was just doing impulsive shopping or maybe I was just killing time. It was half-past eight chilly December night, light could go anytime, the shopkeepers started rolling down their shutters, And I was left with no choice but to leave for home.

Slowly and with heavy steps, I started and reached home in ten minutes, opened the lock with throbbing heart and trembling hands. But nothing unusual appeared. I tried to distract myself by engrossing in chores, cooked dinner, did evening pooja, and played Gayatri Maha-mantra on my audio system. Time passed peacefully, I retired to my quilted bed, I was wondering if everything that happened last night was just my illusion, suddenly there was a bell, someone was on the door and then a second bell. I felt like the last man on the Earth, alone in the room and suddenly there's a knock on the door, I opened the door but there was none. Frustrated I returned to my room. Just when I was thinking I had hit a rock bottom, I was standing up on another trap door. There was blood hot blood on the floor, I touched my chest expecting my heart not to be there anymore, but behold I was alive, stumbled I stepped on something mushy.

Ewweee... It was a huge rat cut into pieces; neck, body, and tail; cut neatly with a knife as if someone had savored cutting it. My room looked like hell, blood and pieces of rat splattered. I could not take it anymore. I ran out of the house and started vomiting. That chilly night I spent on the pavement. The next morning saw a different me, it was enough now, I got the place cleaned by a sweeper.

My day passed in the office, in the evening I went straight to my home without any dilly-dallying, cooked meals, did evening pooja, and then started chanting Panchastavi and slept. In the din of the night when I was a little awake, I saw this young man in the early twenties, in white undershirt and pajamas, sleeping next to me. He had a blank pale emotionless face and the blackest eyes, eyes of a devil. I passed out... and gained senses only in the morning with the chirping of birds.

Now my fight had begun, my fight with the unseen unhuman unearthly unknown had begun. He had shown himself to me. Now I had to confront my fear and face it, as sitting late in the office is only my excuse or my way of fueling my fear and only I could stop that. How I handle my fear would determine how I face so many other faceless challenges of life.

I would do my routine chores in a peaceful way indifferent to anyone's presence around. I would play Panchastavi at a high tone every time.

The unearthly spirit had now a reason to worry as my grit and courage were unshakable. Sometimes he would just keep all the taps of my home running at night or sometimes just keep the door open. This was the most he would do now. He wouldn't scare me now or maybe he had understood he couldn't frighten me. So maybe we started cohabiting peacefully. And I realized one's life expands or shrinks in proportion to one's courage.

Then came another twist as my wife called me one morning and informed me that she would be coming to be with me for a few days, with my two years old daughter. I got happy hearing this for one moment, and the next moment all the fizz vanished into thin air as I realized there would be someone else too with us. What will happen now, oh my God, I was in a soup. If I ask her not to come, she would have all her doubts and if she comes there will be another sort of trouble.

That evening I warned Mr. Ghost, I told him to dare not touch my family.

The morning they came, I realized everything was normal, my daughter would run and crawl in all the corners of the home and it appeared at times as if she was chatting with someone, so Mr. Ghost was playing with my daughter without harming her. I assumed that he will not harm my family now. That night we had an early dinner and slept early.

Around midnight I was alarmed by the shrill scream of my wife, she was panting, drenched with sweat incoherently she told me her bed was moving in the air as if trapped in a whirlwind, like someone pushing her down from the bed. I pulled her towards me, comforting and easing out her fears. So Mr. Ghost must have visited the room and finding someone else on his side of the bed must have annoyed him. My wife left in the morning. Then one day my elder brother came, he too met with the same fate with the only difference that he was pulled down the bed by his toe and then my uncle too; confirming and convincing me that Mr. Ghost doesn't want anyone on his side of the bed.

Meanwhile, something good happened on the office front, my request for change of residence got approval and I was granted a new apartment in my office society quite near to my place of work. I had to shift by Sunday. I packed all my few things and hired an auto on Saturday itself, as It was only I who knew the urgency to shift the residence. As I was standing in front of the house I noticed someone in the park, the park which is usually haunted had some human movements. I went inside the park, the thatched hut probably meant for the caretaker was seeing its occupants.

"Oh, so you have returned?" I asked the man, who looked tired and feeble with his bones poking out of his skin making him look like someone in his septuagenarians.

"But where had I gone, I was here all the time, all the days, I don't have any other place to go," he replied. I pulled a step back, now he quizzed me. "Who are you and where have you come from?"

"I...I l live in that corner bungalow, I had been here since a December," I stammered while answering. His eyes popped out on hearing this.

"You live there but how could you live there for a month?" Now was my turn to hold my breath. What he told me was:

This bungalow belonged to Dr.Puri, the famous heart surgeon of Jammu, he was known for his expertise and experience. His wife Dr. Asha Puri too was a leading gynecologist of the city. Both were among the who's who of this city. They had two sons Amit and Abhishek. Amit was a brilliant boy who grew up to become a successful ENT doctor and married his colleague and obstetrician Dr. Aastha Puri.

So they had a battery of successful doctors at home, and there was this Abhishek who never liked to study, he was always happy with his guitar and music. Abhishek wanted to become a musician and perform live in front of an audience. This was something against the dignity of the Puri family. He was always pressurized and compared to the successful members of his family. He got admission into medical college but couldn't clear his papers. He was torn apart by the indifferent attitude of his family towards his passion for music. He never wanted to become a doctor.

One day when all the doctors of the home were away on duty he committed suicide by hanging from the ceiling of the room. Suicide was the greatest freedom he chose for himself, the life of a great artist was punctuated by suicide. He was not willing to fight with his family anymore so he quit. That marked the debacle of the Puri family. Their mother died, father went into depression, brother and bhabhi left this place. Now there's no one and nothing left here now. It has been thirty years since Abhishek left, but he comes daily, he stays with me during the day and at night goes to his room to sleep.

That man finished his part of the story and went inside his hut. There was a silence, a long disturbing silence, I left the place then.

Before vacating the bungalow, I again went inside it. This time my heart was filled with love and remorse. The walls of the house were screaming out loud all the that it held for all these years, every tear that tore Abhishek's heart and nipped his life. Every memory that tore his soul. I wished to see him, to meet him, to hug him but he was no more there. I felt an uneasy vacuum in my heart, a void. Oh, Abhishek, my dear mate, maybe I will meet you someday somewhere. I left the place with a heavy heart.