The Haunted Deepawali

The Haunted Deepawali

 

The year was 2017, and the festival of Deepawali was just a day away. Arun’s shift was over an hour ago. Still, he wanted to capture all the pending payments of his clients’ debtors. All his teammates were already on their Deepawali vacation, except two young girls, who were still under their training tenure. They both were doing nothing productive for the last three hours except scrolling their smartphones. Arun gestured them to leave, and they gladly collected their stuff, wished him happy Diwali, and went home. It took Arun another fifteen minutes to wind up everything and consider it a day.

Magenta Pvt. Ltd. was almost vacant at that time. A handful of people were working half-heartedly. Arun worked there for more than five years now and recently got promoted and became one of the payables department team's leader. Also, he just got married. So the upcoming Deepawali was undoubtedly very special for him.

Though he didn’t mind working overtime, the last shuttle towards the metro station was about to leave. He was really not in a mood to book a private cab and spend money unnecessarily. He quickly shut off the system and came down to the ground floor, all the way from the sixth floor, without waiting for the elevator.

The shuttle was standing right in front of the corporate complex's exit gate, which had three identical buildings. The shuttle was already in ignition mode. Arun quickly jumped into the shuttle and grabbed the seat somewhere in the middle of the bus. The shuttle started moving, and it took him a couple of minutes to discover that he is all alone on the bus (of course, except the driver). He kept his head against the window’s glass and closed his eyes for a while. He quickly entered into a state where he was thinking nothing at all. His closed eyes were only sensitive to street lights' rhythmic passing, which took him into a hypnotic state. The M.G. Road metro station was good twenty minutes away. The shuttle took a right turn towards a kaccha road behind the tall buildings, between the bushes and weeds. The twists and turns of the road brought him out of his nap. He could now see bushes, weeds, and crooked trees, after a patch of vacant land. He checked his cell phone and looked again outside the window. Suddenly he saw a figure running with the bus at a matching speed.

He tried to adjust his eyesight and saw a woman wearing something white, looking directly towards Arun and running at an inhuman speed. He held the handle in front of him and stood up with a thud.

‘Bhaiyaa…” he almost cried and called the driver.

The driver looked back to see the reason for this young man crying like a maniac. He saw nothing but a pale-white face of Arun looking out of the window. He ignored him as he wasn’t in a mood to have a word with another literate psychopath, who is good for nothing except sending emails to the organization's transportation department, filled with the driver's complaints. He concentrated on the beedi between his lips.

Arun saw the figure becoming thick white smoke and disappearing all of a sudden. He came near the window to see backwards but saw nothing except crooked trees and weeds. He grabbed his bag and stood near the driver. His heart was thumping against his chest like an old railway engine. The driver looked at his face through the mirror as he took out another tobacco rolled beedi from his pocket.

In a couple of minutes, the bus took a turn towards the main road. The metro station was on the other side of the divider. The bus took a U-turn, and Arun jumped through the bus. He punched his card on the first level of the station. He started feeling a bit safe as he entered the station complex. He ran towards the platform, and a handful of people were waiting for the metro. The other platform was completely vacant as the train terminates after two stops at the hudda city centre station. So there was utterly no one for a ride up to the last station. The frequency of the trains at this time of the day is extremely slow. There were still eight minutes left for the next train towards Vishwavidhalaya. He could even listen to the voice of his heartbeat. He was avoiding eye contact with everyone around him.

There were still around three minutes left in his metro's arrival when he saw a lady wearing a white top and a long blue skirt, standing alone on the opposite platform. He was walking towards the left side of the platform. Arun smelled something fishy, so he also started walking towards the left side.

Now, the girl started running, and to match her speed, Arun also started running. The train towards the Hudda city centre was about to arrive on the platform's opposite side when that lady suddenly jumped in front of the train.

‘No…’ Arun cried as he sat on the floor, with his hands tightly shutting his eyes.

When he opened his eyes, he saw around fifteen people were surrounding him through his blurry eyes. He looked downwards and came to the centre of the platform. Everyone boarded the train when it arrived at the platform.

In the metro’s cart, there were few people present. He grabbed a seat near the door and sat with his face between his hands. He was not able to distinguish between reality and his imagination. Everyone around him was busy with their cellphones, but he was shivering with fear. His shirt was all drenched with sweat, which made him shiver more as the air vent was just above his head. He ignored all that, took out his mobile phone, and started typing a WhatsApp text message to his wife, explaining whatever happened to him in the last half an hour. He explained every minute detail of the woman who ran near the shuttle and the lady who jumped before the train. It was hard to vouch for the incidences' details, but he tried his best to compel his wife about the incidences.

Suddenly, the lights in the metro started flickering. Arun's attention got diverted while he was framing the sentences. He looked towards the glass in front of him. He saw a circular area covered with frost. He found something strange about that. He was looking at the frost with all his attention when he saw it clearing up.

The next moment, he saw a pale face, stick to the glass, with his eyes popping out of the socket and tongue coming out of the mouth. That feminine face was disfigured with something sharp and strong enough. The face was looking directly into Arun’s eyes.

Arun was on the cart’s floor, with the phone on his side when he breathed his last.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….....................................................................................................................

Nav Bharat Times

29th October 2016

Meera Sharma, a resident of Pashchim Vihar, New Delhi, committed suicide by jumping before the metro train at M.G. Road metro station. She was an I.T. Professional by profession and worked in a well-reputed multi-national company for four years.

According to sources, she suffered from an acute stage of depression and took heavy sedatives before committing suicide. The reason for suicide is still unknown. The forensic department of Haryana police is working on the post mortem report of the body. There is fear in the air of Gurugram this Deepawali.

1st November 2018

The last thing Vijay saw was a white figure on the floor of the metro train going towards Samaypur Badali before he collapsed on the ground. The ghost of the white lady still haunts the city of Gurugram. This is not the first time Haryana Police received the reports of some mysterious figure haunting young people. Though, Police call this a result of mass hysteria and the spreading of unnecessary rumours. The locals are still afraid of going out when every other city in the nation is celebrating Deepawali.

HRN

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The One Who Stole My Heart...

The One Who Stole My heart

My home, like many other houses, has two gates. One is at the front, and the other opens towards the little street at my home's backside. Around two months back, I saw Bachi (a beautiful female dog, with big wolf eyes) lying under a staircase with five little pups around her. I was excited when I saw all of them. They were just so small, even smaller than a tennis ball. Their eyelids were stuck together, and their eyes were forcefully closed. In about ten days, they started opening their eyes. They used to follow me whenever I used to whistle at them.

All five were so damn beautiful and active, but out of all, one little Pup stole my heart. I had a doubt that he was visually impaired. He could trace my voice and follow me, but I think he couldn't see me correctly. He always used to be around his siblings, as he was unable to manage alone. Apart from that, he was weakest among all. He used to scream whenever he was alone, as he couldn't find his way back to his little shelter near the staircase.

Once I found him at the end of the street, screaming and banging his head here and there, trying hard to find his way back. I whistled at him, and he started following that irritating voice and successfully found his way back.

After a week or so, I realized that he was able to see a little. I discovered this by placing him at a four-feet height on a small cemented platform, to feed him chapatti and milk with a bit more attention. Soon, his legs started shivering, and he started looking downwards. I was happy when I discovered that. I patted him, and I lifted him in my arms. I told him to trust me and kept him back at that little platform. He started eating without being afraid of height.

One Sunday morning, I woke up a bit late, and that too because of someone screaming outside my home. I saw him walking in my backyard. I asked my Mom what is he doing in the backyard. She said with an alarming voice that some dogs attacked the Pup. They dragged him while holding the little one in between their jaws. I ran towards him and saw him panting. He looked at me and waged his tail. I picked him up immediately and saw a big hole in his abdomen. I could see some internal bleeding and a yellowish noodle kind of thing coming out of that hole. I rushed to the Veterinary clinic near my home. They told me to run to the hospital as the little one needs stitches before any dressing.

I rushed to the hospital, but there was no staff available. They all went for lunch. One kind doctor gave him pain-killers, which helped him to bear the pain for a while. The doctor who had to perform the operation came after one hour. They gave him anaesthesia quickly and took him to the operation theatre.

They bring him back in an unconscious condition. The internal bleeding was so much, but the doctor said that the recovery chances are more than fifty per cent. I brought him back home, and he slept the whole afternoon. He woke up around six in the evening and started crying. I patted him, and he went back to sleep. After two more hours and another episode of screaming, he slept again.

After Nine, I got up from my desk and started preparing the bed for him. I guided my wife to mind her step as the little one is sleeping near our bed. I went to that basket in which he was lying.  I picked him up, but something looked fishy. I tried to shake him up, but he wasn't breathing. I panicked a bit and start giving CPR. I called my Mom to confirm whether there any chances, but she denied. The little Pup, who stole my heart, had left his mortal body.

Honestly speaking, I have seen innumerable dogs bidding me goodbye and leaving their mortal body. I was able to cope up. But this time, I couldn't. I was normal at first. I was consoling my wife as she was crying a lot. After bidding him goodbye, we went to bed. I slept for a while, but specific memories of the time I spent with him disturbed me. I was remembering him revolving round and round to find his way back to the shelter. When I was feeding him on that four-foot platform and telling him to trust me, everything was coming like a picture in front of my eyes.

That was it. I couldn't control myself and cry like a maniac.

I don't cry easily. But that night, I was not in my control.

No matter how much one reads about detachment and not getting attached to someone, It gives one a hard time to practice the concept. No matter how much you try to learn about the body and the soul concept, sometimes you fail miserably when applying that concept. Human emotions are hazardous. They have the tendency to make a person look crazy.

The next morning I was lost somewhere when I dropped my wife at her office on my scooter. I checked my phone after dropping her when two white feathers fell on my shoulder. I looked above but found nothing. I don't know what happened to me, but I kept those feathers with me in my fanny pack.

I asked my friend, who is a tarot card reader that what could this be. She replied that that's a message from angels. Now, I have a reasonable belief in Archangels, and I have literally felt their presence around me many times. I researched about this feather message on the internet when I found this video.

I pasted the feathers in my journal

That lady in the video said something that I couldn't control my tears. She said that it's a message from someone who has left this mortal world that he or she has reached safely in heaven, and now you should stop grieving.

Love, it's a crazy thing. Whether it is one-sided or both ways, it has beauty. But when someone loves you back with the same passion, trust me, that feeling cannot be described in mere words. That love can cross all the mortal boundaries. It's beyond the body, beyond the mind, beyond everything.

I lost him, but I'm happy that he is safe and became my guardian angel.

To conclude this, I just want to say that being emotionally vulnerable doesn't make someone weak. Weakness appears when someone stops doing something because of the fear of heartbreak and that grief. But you can mark my words, I will not stop falling in love, again and again with those little kiddos, who expects nothing but love.

Love, Laughter, and Peace

Himanshu R Nagpal

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"One Arranged Murder" by Chetan Bhagat - Not a Book Review

 In life, one of the most challenging tasks is judging something without being judgemental about it. Let me elucidate.  While Judging something, you have to be neutral in every aspect. You have to keep aside all your past experiences, earlier records, and people’s opinions regarding that particular thing. On the other hand,  when you are judgemental about something, you bring the past performances and other people’s view into the equation. Don’t worry, this theory is created by me. It helps me to bifurcate between judging something or being judgemental about something. I hope that will help you too, as you read this article further.

Chetan Bhagat, who started his career with the books like One night @ the call center, Five point someone, and Three mistakes of my life, was a trendsetter and converted many non-readers into readers. He brought a different revolution in the field of literature. He became the apple of the eye of millions of readers, specifically in India. But with time, and after lots of success, Bhagat started losing his charm when we talk about his books. Most of his books began adapting to Hindi movies. So, I personally felt like he started writing more for the movies’ scripts than readers. His Books like Half-Girlfriend and One Indian girl was somewhat looked like more of a Bollywood script than a book.

And then, his views upon feminism and gender equality were widely criticised across the nation. However, his books were a huge success and always remain at the top of the charts.

I read his recent book – One Arranged Murder.

If we talk about its story, Two friends, Saurabh and Keshav, are not much in talking terms after an episode of misunderstanding.  Saurabh, who is about to get married in a couple of months, is going to her fiancé, Prerna, at his home as she fasted for him on the occasion of Karva Chauth.  He was climbing the stairs to meet her at the terrace but was welcomed with something alarming. He saw a people gathering around a dead body on the ground. Was that an accident or a murder? The story revolves around that. Sourabh and Keshav, apart from working in a corporate, also run a detective agency called Z Detectives. So no points for guessing; they help the police to solve the case.

Honestly speaking, without flaunting my intellect, I could guess the criminal on the 80th page of this book, which has about three hundred-odd pages. That was more of a work of my emotional instinct than my critical analysis. But with each page proceeding, I started doubting myself, and that’s what I consider the success of this book. New theories came in eventually, and that’s the essence of the book.

It has that Chetan Bhagat factor as it mixes up all the variants like his earlier books. It has that tragedy, that romance, and that masala, his x-factor in the books like two states and three mistakes of my life.

On the other hand, I found some parts of the book quite impractical and hard to believe. The characters were behaving quite differently and beyond the boundaries of their portrayal. At some point, I also felt that this book is also written for a movie or a web-series. But that’s again one’s personal opinion, not a fact.

Do I like the book? Oh yes. It’s undoubtedly a page-turner, and I believe that its entertainment quotient is relatively high.

Will you like the book? That will depend on what you are looking for in the book.

Here’s the link to the book, in case you are looking forward to reading it.

I’ll see you soon.

Love, Laughter, and Peace

Himanshu R Nagpal