It was my sister’s sheer compulsion that made me ponder on the existence of ghosts for she believed that, with her pernickety illusions, I would be able to pen a horror script that would satisfy her permutations on chillness. I really have no such personnel experiences to share with my readers on such a frivoling topic as I adjudge the notion that the world of today had no legroom for ghosts and vampires, the entire thing nothing more than a fantasy notched up to blemish the beauty of darkness. But I really would like to share with you a horrendous incident during our university period the very thought of which would often slip me into jitters although the entire incident gyrated around my colleague, Kavitha.
Kavitha was unique. She was plump and had a round face, with her big eyes occupying a major share of her face and salacious eyelashes and most notably her straight well nourished long hair, tied and kept stiff in an aristocratic manner. I still remember my first day at the university, while I was engulfed with thoughts of discontinuing there; she came up to me and introduced herself in an audacious but belligerent style, which promulgated a lasting impression of her in me. Ever since she remained one of my close confidantes and her loquacious nature possessed a sense of respite, soothing and comforting, which made her quite popular among the boys. She harboured a diplomatic efficacy for she made acquaintance with everyone in the college, from the university principal to the canteen boy, who used to wait hours near the college gate smartly dressed just for a jiffy with her. Her most intimate friend was Rita, who was completely contradictory with her. Rita was a very silent girl. She was quite tall. Her delicate feminine features, long legs, her tight dressing and thick lips inundated one with illicit emotions as her perpetual movements were a feast to one’s eyes. Many a times, I had spotted her with one of my seniors, palpitating seeds of doubt in me, the affinity when they were together, their laughs and chatters oblivious of the surroundings. I had inquired on this matter to Kavitha, to rationalise the logic of their relationship as I did not muddle the opportunity I got, on the pretext of their relationship, to flirt with her. She was eluding away from my queries. Finally she conceded that they were in love much to my dismay as I had already diverted the questions of romantic allusions at her leaving behind the matter of subject importance.
During the university exams, they used to take a room outside the hostel for their combined study as well as for the computer classes offered by various training centres that was out of college curriculum. Since they were hardworking and outstanding students, no one bothered their stay outside. They vacated the room only after completion of all the papers. I used to be with them during the initial part of the study leave, dropping them in the middle for much broader concentration. Once after the seventh semester holidays, I had come late from my home. Poignant and heartbreaking information welcomed me at the railway station as I experienced a terrible pain in my head.
“Rita suicided. She jumped in front of a train.”
I did not believe them but the manner by which my friends expressed that, I knew that something terrible has occurred. Rita. What happened to her? Why did she do this? Questions started corkscrewing my mind as tears rolled down from my eyes.
“Where is Kavitha”.I enquired suddenly redeeming myself.
“Her parents came and took her away. She was the first to see her body lying transfigured in the railway track. She had fainted then and there and was rushed to the hospital.”
She was the only person who knew Rita personally. She might be even aware of the persuasion behind this suicide. Suddenly, the scene of Rita with my senior flashed through my mind. Instantaneously and fully rejuvenated, I enquired
“Where is Ajay”
“Ajay is missing.”
I tried to reach Kavitha but had a negative response from her mom, every time I rang up to her house. There was a sequence of events that followed the horrendous episode. Ajay was arrested a few days later and police interrogated him. He was released and the police pin pointed his fear the obvious reason behind his going into hiding at the death of Rita. Since I have seen them together on quite a few occasions, I knew there was something incongruous and suspicious. Kavitha’s father complained to the local police about their affair and later with a political backing pressurised the police to take ajay into custody. One day I was surprised to find a familiar number in my mobile. I picked it up instantly and in the most unpretentious approach and with a placating tone, I addressed the person at the other end.
“Kavitha, how are you? May I know when you are coming back for your attendance is already lagging.”
“I would like to see you personally. So please come over to my house.”
She kept the phone.
Words, sometimes petite and sturdy, hold a lot of spiralling feelings in it be it be obnoxious retorting or pedantic soothing. I knew from her voice that she had something to talk to me very seriously about. I decided to start right away.
It was almost five in the evening when I reached her house. Her house was located a few yards away from the main road but owing to its height, it was noticeable from a distance. The sun looked all set for its hibernation as it sprayed the red crayon in the sky signalling the end of an arduous day task. The winds slowly kissed the palm leaves that surrounded the house, thus symbolising a carribean style of reception delivered probably on my arrival. The gate was partly open. I went inside and knocked the door. A short, stout lady opened the door. From her resemblance to Kavitha, I knew that she was her mom. She looked worn out as if she had not slept the previous days. She did not smile neither the usual curious look sprouted on her face when a young stranger drops in to her house at this part of the day.
“Kavitha..”
“Yes, I am here”
The house was quite big. The entrance led to a big hall with a neatly arranged parapet cushioned sofa sets. Behind the sofa was the stairs that led to the upper portion of the house. I heard kavitha’s voice from the top of the stairs for only the bottom portion was visible from the entrance. She came down on the spur of the moment. She seemed suddenly to become so sophisticated.
“Mom, this is my friend Shereen. He will be with us tonight.”
With that she caught hold of my hand and dashed to her room along the stairs. She released my hand only when we had entered her room, closing the door behind us. Her room was quite small compared to the enormity of the house. There was a bed in the middle of the room and a wooden almirah (three of them together, Oh my god she really kept a huge collection with her) on to the left of her bed. To the right was a dressing table arranged tidily. On the table stood a photo which I think was the contentious issue perpetuating in her. She was in a dexterous laughing position and her hands on the shoulders of her most intimate friend Rita. There was something peculiar rather appalling in the way Rita posed for the photo. She was not smiling but postured a terrified look, her eyes bulging out, filled with terror and her lips tightened, a pose seemingly possible during a physical encounter or strangling. I really wondered what could have been her mood when such a boffin was taken. I felt scared seeing her in that appalling pose and I tried to evade my eyes from it to face kavitha.
“Shereen, What do you think about that photo?”
I looked at her inquisitively and baffled.
“It looks as if someone’s strangling her.”
“Yes, do you think that this photo was clicked with Rita pertaining that pose”
“Then”
“When this photo was taken, we both were hugging each other and were in high spirits owing to the fact that she and ajay decided to get engaged. Two days back, she had changed and retained that frightening pose. At times, I see tears dripping down from her eyes and occasional sobs at night.”
Words dried up in my mouth. A strange dreadfulness envisaged me as I tried not to even glance at that photo.
“You are joking”
“Do you think so? I would call up a person all this way just to share a joke?”
I was told to rest in the room adjacent to her. Her parents seemed very confident about her for they never had even a drop of suspicion in their looks. I kept my bag on the bed but I was worried for it sounded really mystical, the expression of Rita coz it was quite impossible, even for an artist of magnanimous calibre, to pose in front of the camera in such a dreadful manner. Kavitha had asked me to fresh up for the dinner and be alert for she would require my help sometimes way in the middle of the night. Two days back all of a sudden Rita started showing signs of smother, as if someone strangling her followed by her sobs. How could this be possible? I decided to flip through the sequence of events that followed her death. Maybe this might be Kavitha’s hallucination but for a girl of her character, adamant and full of guts, such imbecilic thoughts would rarely spring up. If kavitha was being truthful what had occurred two days back for that transformation of Rita’s expression. The only thing that was sonorous with this incident had been the arrest of Ajay, Rita’s long time boyfriend. What could be the reason? The long and lethargic journey had capitulated me for I found my eyes unable to resist the mounting drowsiness thereby pulling me into a deep slumber.
It was in the middle of the night that I heard a knock outside and I woke up to find Kavitha standing at the entrance, her hair falling down loosely on her shoulders and a few of them sliding down her forehead. (I forgot to switch off the light in the room, not that I was scared but the place was quite new for me)
“Shereen, can you come over to my room”
As she left, I could hear the thumping of my heart for a sense of fear had gripped me that resisted me from jumping out of the bed swiftly. Slowly, without the slightest commotion I went over to her room and closed the door behind. It was pitch dark inside. Her previous narrations, scuttling in me and the chilling silence disturbed by her frequent panting, made my hair stand on the end.
“Kavitha. Iam here”
(I was expecting a lady dressed up in a white sari with a disfigured face and long pointed down teeth, to appear all of a sudden from nowhere and her eerie shrieks would then reverberate in the air)
Kavitha switched on the light. She was in her gown. She was sweating. For a moment I could not really take my eyes of her for she resembled a damsel with her glowing skin, her gown sticking to her body thus evincing her fat but well shaped breasts and her protuberantial nipples. She was not wearing anything inside. Drops of sweat was trickling down through her forehead and making ingress into her parted lips for they were wide open in astonishment. Her cleavage was quite visible for she had left the top buttons open, the hastiness due to the dreadful situation her mind was entangled in. She was breathing quite hastily but was not creating a commotion, the to and fro motion of her chest, and every time she gasps out she kept a hand on her breast.
“See what is written beneath the photo”
I suddenly regained the situation to turn over and face the mysterious photo frame. Rita was in that same appalling pose but the part of the frame below her photo was completely wet as if water was sprayed on that area. And most surprisingly and to my disbelief, below the frame the water drops had collected to form a cluster of numbers 1, 1, 0 and 1.
{To Be Continued}
