The Coup

He had learnt the tender art of making incense sticks from his father. His father had learnt it from his grandfather, he from his great grandfather, he from his great great grandfather and he from his great great great oh leave it….

Everyday he would wake up in the morning and in a black cauldron, (which was passed on to him by his father and to his father by his grand father and so on) mix all the ingredients, carefully measuring them so that the incense stick would emit the exact fragrance which his father used to make, and his grand father and his great grandfather, I think by now you must have got the idea.

But I would like to tell you about one more thing that his great great great grandfather had passed on to him, it was a bottle of special ether that wasn’t available in the market. Nobody knew what it was because nobody had ever had a chance of testing it. It was with him and his family since times unknown. And this was what made his incense sticks special, and people would keep buying it from him and only him. But his father has warned him that if he put extra amount of the ether the fragrance of the incense might even become fatal.

When his father used to sell incense sticks carrying them in a canvas bag going from one home to the other, the country had gained freedom recently, the people were God fearing and they bought the handmade incense sticks thinking them to be auspicious. But it was different now, in the days of television advertising and supermarkets people didn’t want to buy handmade incense sticks with shoddy packing. But still everyday he would make a few packets and go around the neighborhood selling them, and buy his daily bread with whatever he earned.

Today was different, he hadn’t been able to sell his daily quota of incense sticks yesterday so he was left with a few packets. He was feeling grumpy and angry about the big companies getting into manufacturing incense sticks, with their beautiful floral packing and heavenly fragrances. He decided he had to go about his daily duties so he got up to make a few more packets to complete his daily quota and then venture out.

He mixed all the ingredients in the cauldron, measuring them exactly the way his father had taught him and started heating it. The broth started to boil in sometime and it was now time to put the ether. He carefully brought the bottle and took a small measuring cup and poured the exact quantity that his father had told him. Then he remembered that he had forgotten to cover his nose but it was too late. The fumes from the ether entered his nose and he sneezed. The ether from the bottle spilled into the cauldron. He looked at it horrified. He thought he would throw the whole thing away instantly, but if he did he wouldn’t have anything to sell that day. He had no more ingredients left with him nor did he have any money to buy them. He thought that he would give it a go and see what happens. So he went about the whole procedure normally and rolled the paste onto thin bamboo sticks.

After he was done with all the paste he left the sticks to dry for sometime and went to take his bath. When he returned the incense sticks were dry and ready to be packed. But his conscience made him uneasy, what if someone died, after all, his father had warned him that the consequences of a mistake could be fatal, he thought. He decided he would burn one stick and see what the effects were. He selected a stick took out a match and lit it. Instantly he covered his nose with his hand afraid that he might inhale the smoke and die. But he knew he had to test the incense stick before he could sell it in the market. Hesitantly he removed his hand and inhaled the fragrance. The smell was sweet and suddenly he felt light and at ease with his surroundings, slowly the room started to revolve around him and everything went black.

He woke up after sometime, the room was swaying and his head felt as if somebody was pounding it with a hammer. He staggered and stood up, went to the bathroom and washed his face. Then he remembered what had happened. He was happy that he was alive. The effect of the ether had not killed him. The old clock on the wall told him that he had been unconscious for more than an hour. But still he would not be able to sell them to his customers, they would all faint. And then an idea hit him.

He quickly wrapped a few packs and marked them with a red tag. He put them in is canvas bag and left the house. He went straight to a house where one of his regular customers lived, she was an old lady he knew she would be alone at this time of the day. He rang the doorbell, the door opened after sometime. The old lady stood there and smiled at him. He took out the packet with the red tag, took out a couple of sticks lit them and covered his nose. The smoke with a sweet fragrance rose. The old lady inhaled it deeply and smiled at him toothlessly. He waited for her to pass out. But nothing happened he gestured for her to inhale some more, she did, he waited again. And yet nothing happened. He checked the packet but it was the pack with the red tag. He removed the handkerchief from his nose and inhaled the smoke. In a moment everything started to swirl and then he blacked out.

He woke up after sometime everything around him looked blurred and his head was hurting badly. In sometime he realized he was lying on the pavement of the street. The sun shone brightly on him. He didn’t know how he came there and then he remembered what had happened. He looked around for his bag, but his belongings were missing. He realized that it was he who had been robbed. He took the support of tree trunk nearby and stood up, swaying slightly. He slowly walked towards his home. He was disappointed and confused as to what went wrong.

In sometime he reached home he decided that he would try it again. He made a few more packets and put them in a bag and went out of the home. This time he decided that he would go to an old man who lived in another lane. He knew that the old man lived alone.

He rang the doorbell, the door opened in sometime and the old man smiled at him. He immediately took out a couple of sticks from one pack and lit them, and covered his mouth with handkerchief. The smoke rose and the old man inhaled it deeply. He waited for the old man to pass out, but nothing happened. He gestured at the old man to inhale again, the old man did so, but nothing happened. He removed the handkerchief from his mouth and inhaled the smoke, the old man’s face swirled in front of his eyes and everything went black.

Ek Choti si Ghost Story.

Disclaimer: The author does not expect his readers to believe that this story is true.

This happened when I was in sixth standard. We went to visit my aunt’s place (my mother’s sister) in Chas. It was a small village on the border of Bihar (now Jharkhand) and West Bengal. It was the month of June and I remember it was a very hot summer. My aunt’s family pundit had chosen this sultry month of June for the marriage for their eldest son. So the visit for the occasion was combined with our annual summer vacations, but I knew it would be fun as all our cousins will come and we will have the best of times playing in the mango grove that my uncle had.

So we reached there in the hot June morning and by evening all my cousins had arrived and the whole house was transformed into a mad house. The marriage rituals had started a couple of days earlier and the Barat was supposed to depart two days later to the bride’s place in the adjoining village.

Vicky was my age; he was more of a buddy than a cousin to me. We were partners in crime. Be it climbing trees or riding a buffalo he was better, stronger and braver than me. That afternoon when were sitting on the branch of a mango tree eating raw mangoes after lunch he told me the story that he had heard from the elders.

Before I tell you what happened let me first give you some details of the landscape. The mango grove must have been as large as a foot ball ground and in all there were around twenty mango tree. My uncle’s house was on the border of the orchard and faced the rising sun. At the very centre of the ground was a very old temple. Uncle had told us that it was there even before his great grandfather had won the orchard from the local zamindar (landlord) in a match of Chuasar (a game played with dice). The temple had an idol of a Godess sitting on a burning pyre. The temple was called Sati Mata Mandir. It was only later at school while reading about Raja Ram Mohan Roy I learned what the Sati meant.

I asked Vicky what story he had heard from the elders. “People say that they have been hearing strange sounds at night”, said Vicky. “What kind of sounds”, I asked. “As if a girl wearing anklets was walking around singing some song. The anklet rang as she walked”, said Vicky. I listened to him wide eyed. “Look, your face is white already”, he laughed at me. “No, no I don’t believe in this nonsense”, I said trying to sound brave. “No, my mother says this happens every time a marriage takes place in Durga Mausa’s family”, said Vicky. “So why doesn’t every one stay awake at nights and look for the source of the sound”, I asked. “Well, they say that if everyone is awake at night the sound doesn’t come. Just one or two people each night hear the sound and if they try to raise an alarm the sound stops. They have sent search parties several times but each time they have returned empty handed”, said Vicky. He looked at me, I was wide eyed once again, he began to laugh, I looked away embarrassed.

“Look, I have a plan”, started Vicky again. “Let’s do our own investigation tonight. Everyone has been sleeping on the terrace at night we will get ourselves a bed at the corner near the stair case and try to stay awake and listen to any sound that comes”. “And then”, I asked. “Then when the sound starts we will sneak out of the house and investigate the source of it”, said Vicky. “But you said that the noise stops when people wakeup”, I asked trying not to sound scared at this proposition. “I think whatever the source of the sound is, it gets scared when there are too many people, I am sure it won’t mind two kids. What say!” said Vicky extending his palm in a five. I didn’t take it, I had my own doubts, my mind was racing, what if it was some ghost or chudail or pishaach, and all kinds of ghost stories came into my mind. “I hope you are not scared”, he said. “No I am not but what if it’s a ghost”, I said. “Darpok (coward), I knew you were afraid. There is no such a thing as a ghost”, said Vicky teasing me. “Of course I am not a coward, we will do the investigation tonight”, I agreed trying to keep my voice steady.

All that evening I tried avoiding coming in direct contact with Vicky and during dinner I believed that he must have forgotten all about our expedition. But as I was washing my hands in the verandah with a jug full of water, after a hearty meal somebody caught my shoulder, I turned around, it was Vicky. “Ready”, he said with a smile. “Yes why not, but will there be enough space for us on the terrace? I think most of the beds have already been occupied”, I said. “I have kept two bed rolls for both of us, we will put them near the stairs so that we don’t wake up anyone when we sneak out, I have also got hold of a torch see”, he said showing me the torch and turning it on and off in my face, I dropped the jug.

When all the lights had been turned off and the last of chitter - chatter had died down I lay in my bed covered till head waiting for the time to come. I hoped that there would be no sound that night, I hoped that the sound maker would have forgotten his or her anklet at home or lost or broke it altogether. I didn’t realize when I dosed off, and I woke up with a jolt when I felt my body being shaken violently. I removed the sheet from my head and looked, it was Vicky who was shaking me. When he saw me awake he gestured me to keep silent.

“Listen”, he whispered, his index finger on his lips. I tried to listen, but I couldn’t hear anything. I looked at him confusedly. He looked at me, his finger still on his lips. And then I heard a faint sound. I thought it was a rustling of the leaves. But then it came again and again and then it continued in a rhythm as if someone was walking. It was unmistakably the sound of a pair of legs walking with anklets on. I started to sweat like a hog. I stared at Vicky wide eyed, this time I couldn’t hide my fear, but he was smiling at me mischievously. “Let’s go”, he said, took out the torch from underneath the pillow and started to move stealthily towards the stairs. I had no option but to follow him. I wanted to wash off the tag of a ‘Darpok’ from my forehead forever.

Very cautiously we opened and shut the front door and came out into the mango grove. The sound was very clear now. Someone was walking around with a pair of anklets. Vicky pointed towards the Sati temple, the noise was undoubtedly coming from that direction. He signaled me to follow him. We moved quickly, Vicky leading from the front because he had the torch. The night was bright as it was a full moon night and the moonlight cast weird shadows of the mango trees on the ground in front of us. I gathered all my courage and followed Vicky but strangely I wasn’t feeling afraid anymore but was excited about the adventure.

After running for sometime we came near the temple and hid behind a mango tree. Vicky switched off the torchlight. The sound of anklets was very clear and appeared to be coming from very close distance but there was no one to be seen. We looked hard all around us but there was no one. And suddenly from behind the temple a dark form appeared. The dark form was that of a woman. She moved gracefully and in the moon light we could see her jewelry shining around her neck and on her head. She was wearing what appeared to be an ethnic wedding dress. “Who is she”, said Vicky and before I could say or understand anything he came out from behind the tree and walked towards the figure. “Hey! Who are you?” shouted Vicky at the figure. The dark figure raised her face towards Vicky and in a moment disappeared, and at the same time Vicky collapsed in a heap on the ground. I was standing solidified behind the tree watching Vicky’s audacity but when he collapsed on the ground I ran to his aid.

“Vicky! Are you all right”, I shouted as I shook him by his shoulder. He was breathing heavily. Slowly he raised himself and sat up on the ground. He opened his eyes. “Vicky, are you okay”, I asked again. “Let’s go back”, I said. “Have all the guests arrived”, asked Vicky in Bengali and in the voice of a woman. I jumped as if I had got an electric shock. I knew what had happened to him, he was possessed by the Ghost of the Sati temple. I got very scared and wanted to run away but how could I leave Vicky. I mustered up all my courage and asked, “Who are you?” “Who am I? Don’t you know anything kid”, said the voice again in Bengali. “I am Shakuntala, don’t you know the girl whose marriage you have come to attend”, said the voice. “Yes, yes I know you Shakuntala Maasi”, I said and slowly started to back off. I knew it was no use trying to talk to a ghost in a dark night I should rather run home and get some help. Vicky turned Shakuntala started to look towards the ground and started humming some tune in low voice. I thought the opportunity was right, I turned around and ran for my life.

I didn’t stop until I crashed the front door, entered the house, and began to shout at the top of the voice from the verandah itself “Vicky has been possessed by a ghost.” My alarm woke up everyone in the house all my Mausas and Mamas and Maasis and Maamis and cousins and servants everyone came down in to the verandah. After getting a quick account of what had happened they armed themselves with laathis and torches and started towards the Sati temple. I followed them feeling guilty for what had happened to Vicky. When we reached the spot we saw Vicky lying senseless on the ground, he was breathing normally. They picked him up and took him into the house. The doctor was called and after sometime Vicky came back to his senses. The next morning when I asked him if he remembered anything he said that all he remembered was calling out to the figure but could not remember what happened after that.

The Smile

Everyday he made sure that he was there standing across the street at the tea stall by the tree, to see her come out to put the clothes on the line to dry in the sun. Each day she would notice him standing there at the same time, sipping tea.

Sometimes their eyes would meet and he would start talking to the rickshaw puller sitting there. Sometimes their eyes would meet and she would turn around to pick up the clothes from the bucket.

One day he gathered all his courage and as their eyes met, smiled. She quickly lowered her eyes and turned away pretending to squeeze water from the wet clothes so that he could not see her face and smiled shyly.

After that, everyday when she came out the first thing that she would look out for would be the usual place where he would be standing sipping his morning tea or talking to a friend. He would now smile ever so often whenever their eyes met. She never responded. She would simply lower her eyes or pretend to pick up the clothes from the bucket. But she never smiled back at him.

And then one day just like he had appeared below the tree sipping his morning tea he disappeared. She kept looking back at the spot every few seconds, half expecting to see him there chatting with his friend, but he wasn’t there, neither was his friend.

A couple of weeks passed he didn’t came. She heard the news of a war like situation brewing at the border in the north. But she never heard anything about him. Everyday when she came out at her usual time and didn’t see him standing below the tree she cursed herself for not having responded to his smile, and that made her feel worse.

A month later one day she saw his friend standing below the tree looking in her direction. She threw the bucket full of clothes on the ground and ran outside. The man didn’t say anything just handed her a letter. She read it, it was from him and it said that he had gone to some place and was working for a big government organisation now, but didn’t disclose the place or the name of the organisation. She read and reread the letter several times and cried. She asked the man to return the next day and she would write a reply.

She didn’t sleep that night and wrote a letter saying that she was missing his smile and she would wait for him till he came back. The next day she saw his friend standing there again and gave him the letter. This continued for several weeks. His friend would give her a letter and she would write a reply.

Finally she got a letter from him saying that he would be coming back by next week. Next week she saw his friend standing there again, and ran up to him. He said that he would be coming, and asked her to come near the town square clock tower at the same time, next day. She said that she would be there. She could sense sadness in his voice. She didn’t know why.

The next day, dressed in her best salwar suit she went to clock tower a few minutes earlier than the appointed time and hid behind a paan shop from where she could see the square but he would not be able to see her, when he came. She noticed that on the other side of the square was a small crowd and she could see some commotion there. She also noticed his friend standing there.

In sometime a green truck passed her on the road she could see a few army men sitting inside. The truck drew up to the middle of the square and stopped. Someone opened the back of the truck. Some of the men from inside the truck jumped out and stood in an attention position. Then four more army men jumped out of the truck and started to pull out something from the truck. It looked like a huge box to her. It was wrapped in the Tricolor.

The four army men raised the coffin on their shoulders and stood in the middle of the square while the other men standing in attention saluted. She saw a couple of women running towards the ensemble, their screams were painful and they were beating their chest. One of the women fell, the others dropped on their knees beside her. His friend and a few other men ran toward the fallen women and tried to console them. The four men moved forward and placed the coffin wrapped in the Tricolor in front of the women. The women started to cry, beating their chest.

She looked at the coffin and burst into tears. She fell on her knees and cried with her face hid in her hands. She raised her face, looked at the coffin and smiled before giving out a cry of pain looking towards the sky.