NIGHT IN SHANTINIKETAN

It was almost a year that had passed by without going on our ‘regular’ trips outside the city, seeking peace amongst the wilderness of the countryside. Office work was so time-consuming that even a stroll in the municipality park nearby was a luxury. Our driver Ram Pukar, who accompanied us on most of our outings, looked forward to these journeys as they spared him of the boredom of taking me to office, and thereafter, spending the entire day dozing off in the car, getting out occasionally to have a cup of tea. When I told him of our impending trip to Shantiniketan during the ensuing Puja holidays, he seemed overjoyed. It was an opportunity to get away from the madness of the city for at least three days after a while.

Shantiniketan (Bolpur) is a three-hour journey from Howrah by rail. It is about 230 kms by road, which would, in the ordinary circumstances, take the same time as traveling by train. We chose to go there by car so that we enjoy the scenic beauty of rural Bengal, occasionally stopping to have tea and taste the local cuisine at roadside eateries. Then, there was the enjoyment of capturing these scenes in our newly acquired digital camera. My colleague Mr Chakraborty offered to host us in his one-bedroom apartment at ‘Prantik’ on the condition that our driver would have to spend the night either in the car or a hotel room that I had to arrange at my cost. That, I thought, was a good bargain which I eventually complied.

Puja is the time when the entire environment of Bengal including its landscape changes. People tend to forget their political differences and enjoy a week of ‘pandal’ hopping trying to see the best of idols and decorations put up with enormous effort. Hawkers selling a variety of items including eatables occupy vantage points. ‘Dhakis’ (drummers) converge into these pandals, entertaining the public with their skillful beating of drums during ‘aaratis’ and even competitions organized by the puja committees. The highways are naturally lined on both sides by flowering ‘Kaash’ bushes, which is a kind of grass that grows typically during this time of the year. It took us almost six hours to reach our destination visiting on our way umpteen pandals, eating a variety of food and negotiating the potholed roads. Thankfully, there were no donation seekers to be seen anywhere.

Shantiniketan greeted us with a power-cut which is rare in Kolkata during puja season. We sought directions from the locals, and after a great deal of searching in the dark outskirts of the town, finally reached ‘Prantik’. This gated community was surprisingly well maintained, each of the apartments having a small driveway through a lawn where people parked their cars. It was built keeping in mind the need of city dwellers to unwind from time to time. Mr Chakraborty had ensured that the housekeeper was present when we arrived. She promptly served hot tea with biscuits which was welcome. As we were fully exhausted, we took no time in sipping the tea and dismissing her once she finished washing the cups. Dinner was not a priority anymore.

Tired as we were, we hit the bed very early that evening. Fortunately, by the grace of the Electricity Department, power was restored without much delay. As the fan was not effective even at top speed, we kept the large sliding glass windows of the bedroom open with the hope that the temperature would eventually fall during night. In no time were my wife and daughter snoring softly. Even I was feeling drowsy and almost fell asleep when a singular mosquito came close to my ear, singing happily in anticipation of having a sumptuous dinner. Soon others joined him. The mosquito repellent that my host had thoughtfully placed on the bedside table was not effective. Mosquitoes, for some strange reason, get attracted to me even though there could be other targets within range. I covered my body with a bed sheet leaving only my nose exposed so as not to suffocate. The bed sheet compounded the heat which left me tossing from side to side in the hope of falling asleep. The sound of drums and cymbals coming from a distant puja pandal was soothing to the ears. Soon I fell asleep.

It was around midnight that I was woken up by a loud shriek coming from just outside the window. At first, I thought that I had seen a bad dream and tried to get into sleep mode again. Soon there was a louder scream. I had never heard such sound before except in horror movies, which I always reasoned as unnatural. The sound of footsteps, rustling of dry leaves and a hissing noise confirmed the fact that this time, nothing was artificial. The sound of drums from the puja pandal had ceased. Soon came the memories of ghost stories that grandmother had narrated when we visited her during the summer vacations. Grandma had told us about how my father, who was carrying a bagful of fresh fish caught during the wee hours from the pond at his home in Noakhali, was followed by a hopping ghost. This thought sent a cold wave down my spine and left all the hair on my body standing upright. I tried to cool my senses by uttering the name of Lord Ram who was the ultimate Protector, but nothing happened. I saw my wife and daughter in deep sleep beside me. At first I wanted to shake them awake. How could they be so insensitive to what was happening around us, I reasoned angrily. Then pulling the bed sheet tightly over my body and this time without exposing any part, I attempted to create a fortress around me. It didn’t help.

The sound of high pitched screams continued incessantly. Matters took dangerous dimensions with the calls of an owl perched somewhere nearby. Owls and ghosts have always had an uncanny relationship between them. And so were graveyards. In the face of grave danger to me and my family, I was left with no option but to face the situation bravely, I thought. I had made the terrible mistake of coming all the way to Shantiniketan from Kolkata which could not be reversed now. Gathering all the courage left in me, I peeked towards the window through a small opening in the bed sheet. I was in for the shock of my life. A figure, draped in what I thought was a white sari, stood right outside the window staring at me with glowing eyes. The illumination from a street light showed it moving from side to side making the hissing noise with each movement. I started to sweat profusely even though the temperature had come down substantially. I curled myself tightly into a ball clutching my knees close to my face. Just then my daughter got up to use the toilet. As she put the lights on, I risked uncovering myself to see if everything was all right. The screams had stopped and the figure was no longer visible though the hissing sound continued as before. When she came back from the toilet, I specifically asked her to leave the lights on. I reasoned that the mosquitoes were not allowing me to sleep in peace. I don’t know as to when I fell asleep again.

We were greeted in the morning by the sharp sound of the doorbell. The housekeeper had already come to prepare tea for us and clean the rooms. Entering the bedroom she enquired if we had a comfortable night’s sleep. Soon there was that awful scream again. I ran towards the window to confront the ghost in broad daylight and to teach it a lesson or two. Instead, I saw two cats romancing in the lawn below. They were the culprits making the weird noises, I reckoned. I further investigated to find that a banana leaf near the window was making the hissing sound while brushing against the concrete wall. In the dark of the night, it appeared like a sari-clad ghost. The housekeeper confirmed that the night sky was lit up by glow worms that were abundant in the area. Without making any mention of my ghostly experience to anyone, we left for Kolkata cutting short our stay in Shantiniketan.