Old Shepherd

(Please see my post of 17th June for second part of the story)

We started our trek and what an experience it was. We walked through meadows, waded through streams of ice cold water and crossed snowfields at a few places. Trek ended with a steep and strenuous climb to the lake. But a mere glimpse of the lake was enough to wipe out our weariness.

Konsar Nag is a glorious lake. Its beauty is unmatched. Majestic mountains, with snow-capped peaks, surrounding the lake just overwhelm you. Vastness of the lake makes you feel small and insignificant. Charm of that place cannot be described in words. Even now, after so many years, I feel enchanted by just remembering that experience.

Two of our friends took a quick bath in ice cold water of the lake; large and small pieces of frozen snow were floating in the lake even at that time of summer. Rest of us could not dare to do so. We sprinkled few drops of icy water on our faces and thought it was enough for us. We stayed there for about two hours.

None of us wanted to leave that place but we had to. Clouds had appeared from nowhere and soon we had light showers. We had to reach forest hut before sunset.  We started climbing down at a leisurely pace. Descent was a pleasant experience. Rain had stopped. We hardly met anyone on the way, for there was little habitation in that area and few visitors came to the lake.

We had almost forgotten our encounter with old shepherd. But when we were near the meadow, Timmy suggested that we should go to old man’s hut instead.

‘I liked that mysterious old man; a poor man owning a luxurious hut in a beautiful meadow. And food that he had arranged was delicious.’

‘I think we should stay in forest hut,’ I said

‘The forest guard may not have come back.’  

‘We will see when we reach there.’

Forest guard had come back and we decided to stay in forest hut. Guard was willing to arrange food for us, of course on payment. And payment had to be made in advance.

When food was being served Timmy invited the guard to share food with us. Unlike old shepherd he readily agreed. Timmy engaged him in small talk; he was only one amongst us who enjoyed such small talk with all and one.

‘Do you happen to know the old man who lives in his hut over there?’ Timmy asked pointing towards west.

‘Which hut?’

‘Hut behind a grove on west side? I think that is the only grove over there.’

‘You must be mistaken; there is no hut anywhere nearby.’

All of us had stopped eating. All of us were uncertain and edgy. 

I narrated our last night’s encounter with an old shepherd.

‘We stayed in his hut. He arranged food for us. We gave him two hundred rupees for his services. In fact we were planning to stay there tonight if you had not come back.’  

Guard looked stunned. He got up and started looking for something in a small, dirty wooden box lying in one corner. He took out something from that box and thrust it in front of my face.  It was a faded black and white Polaroid photograph. It was a photograph of old shepherd we had met yesterday.

‘You met this man?’ His voice was trembling voice.

‘Yes,’ I said. There was a slight tremor in my voice also.

‘That can’t be?’ It was more of question than a statement.

‘Why?’ This was Timmy. Others appeared to be dumbstruck.

‘He was my grandfather. He died many years ago.’

 No one spoke for some time.

‘It must be his ghost; you must have seen his ghost.’  Guard was looking pale, almost as pale as a ghost.

We just did not know what to say. It was unbelievable. We had seen the old shepherd in flesh and blood. We had stayed in his hut. He had served us food. But the guard was saying that he had died many years ago. Was the guard making a fool of us? I thought for a moment, but he appeared to be dead serious.

 The guard left us saying that he would sleep in kitchen, ‘I always sleep in the kitchen.’

Timmy looked at me with a raised eye brow, ‘Old man had also said same thing!’

We finished our dinner in total silence. Food appeared to have lost its taste.

 Next morning when we were ready to leave, forest guard was nowhere around.

‘Do we wait for him?’ I asked.

‘No, we have already paid him. Let us leave this place, sooner the better,’ Rihan said.

‘Why don’t we first go to that grove and see for ourselves whether old shepherd’s hut is there or not?’ Haroon suggested.

Timmy liked the idea, but Rihan and Jogi were not keen to go there. Timmy and Haroon insisted and we decided to go and look for old shepherd’s hut.  But when we started for the grove we observed that there were actually a couple of groves on west side of forest hut.

“I thought there was only one grove in that area? We didn’t notice other groves that evening,” I said.

‘I think hut was behind the nearest grove,’ Timmy said pointing to one grove which appeared to be nearest.

We went to that grove but we found no hut behind it. Every one of us was bewildered.

‘May be we have come to the wrong grove, let us go over there,’ Timmy said and he pointed towards another grove.

‘We should go back now, we are only wasting time,’ Rihan almost shouted.

 There was some muted discussion and we left the meadow. But we left with uncertain feelings. Trek back to Aharbal was pleasant and uneventful. But I knew that all of us our bothered with something that was inexplicable. None of us was loudly talking and loudly laughing as we normally did.

 At Aharbal, as we were waiting for a local bus, Timmy saw someone at the bus stop. 

‘Who is there under that tree?’ he mumbled in my ear. His voice was trembling and was full of fear.

I was shocked to see the old shepherd. He was standing under a tree like a statue. He was staring at us. Slowly he walked towards us. We were a bit nervous. He smiled and asked, ‘What happened yesterday? You didn’t come to my hut last night?’

‘We stayed in forest hut.’

‘You broke open the lock?’

‘No, the forest guard himself opened it. He had come back. He made all arrangements and did not cheat us. He charged only one hundred rupees for everything.’

Old shepherd stared at us; his face had turned pale as a ghost. He muttered some unintelligible words.

‘I hope you are in your senses.’

‘Why do you say that?’ I asked.

‘Forest guard died three days back. I got the news yesterday after you had left for the lake. How could he be there unless it was his ghost?’

Before we could say anything, bus arrived. We had to quickly board it, for a fairly large crowd was waiting to get into the bus. Moment all passengers had boarded the bus, it left Aharbal. While travelling in the bus every one of us was brooding over the events of last two nights.

When we reached Srinagar, Timmy was in his usual boisterous mood. ‘Well, what do you make of those two odd fellows, our strange hosts in the most beautiful meadow of the valley?’

‘I think both of them made fool of us,’ said Haroon.

‘One of them was a real ghost,’ that was Rihan.

‘What of old shepherd’s hut? We could find no hut in that place. Where did we actually stay?’ Jogi asked.

‘Answer perhaps lies trapped in my camera,’ Timmy said pompously, ‘remember, I took photographs of old shepherd, his hut and the forest guard. My photographs will unravel this mystery. May be one of them, if not both, will turn out to be a real ghost.’

When the photographs were ready, we all went together to collect them. Every one of us was edgy and eager to know the truth.

“So how does the story end? So far your story is neither funny nor scary,” asked my friend who was becoming impatient with my long narration.

“Well, you would be as surprised to know the end as we were on that pleasant evening in 1970.”

“Let me hear it.”         

“Old shepherd was there in all photographs but forest guard was missing from every photograph. He was not seen even in the photograph which Timmy took when he was sharing food with us. His plate with food on it was there, but guard was missing.”

“You think guard was a real ghost and old shepherd was a real man.”

“It is not that simple. Old shepherd’s hut which was furnished like a rich man’s cottage could not be seen in any photograph. Timmy had taken at least three or four photographs of the hut alone.  But in none of those photographs we could see the hut.”

“Old shepherd was also a ghost? And his hut was a ghost hut? That is what you are implying?”

“I would let you decide for yourself. As for me even after so many years I am not sure of what happened there during those two nights and who they were, our two strange hosts in that beautiful meadow.”  

My friend looked quizzically at me. He was surely wondering that what I had narrated was just a flight of my imagination and not a true story. I did not know what I could do or say to dispel his doubt, so I left it at that. 

© i b arora

Old Shepherd

“No, I don’t agree. There is no such thing as a ghost.”

“But ghosts are for real, they exist.”

“You make it sound as if you have met one.”         

“Well, let me tell you a story. When…”

“I am not interested in your stories; they are more funny than scary. Just tell me, did you ever see a ghost? Have you ever met a ghost?”

“You will have to listen to my story and then decide for yourself.”

“If that is what you want, go ahead,” he said and nodded with his eyes. I began my story.

When I was in first year of my college, our Principal was known for his love for discipline. He would not hesitate even to thrash a student who bunked his classes. Professors and lecturers were as scared of him as the students. My first year in college was worse than my last year in school; it was all work and no play.

But second year was the best year of my student life. Our dreaded Principal had left the college. New Principal was eagerly looking forward to a peaceful retired life in his native village. There were to be no university regulated examinations. It was free for all, more so for the second year students.

That year we had all the fun; we took part in games and extracurricular activities, went out for picnics and hiking trips.  And one of our trips was to a beautiful lake in Pir Panjal range; it was unforgettable experience and for many reasons.

We were a group of five friends. We reached Aharbal by bus and stayed in a guest house facing the famous falls. Actually when we reached Aharbal it was already dark. We could not see the falls; we could only hear and feel them. But when we came out of our rooms early next morning we were overawed by the beauty of the falls. Falls were just magnificent.

But to cut a long story short, we started our climb early in the morning. We knew that in six to seven hours we would reach a beautiful meadow where we could stay overnight in a forest hut.

“When will your ghost make an entry?” he asked. I admonished him and instructed him not to interrupt and continued with my story.

The trek proved rather difficult for us, more so because weather suddenly changed for worse. We were not even half way through when light showers welcomed us. What followed was a bit terrifying. Showers became heavy and sky was covered by thick and dark clouds.

 When we reached the meadow it was four in the afternoon. Rain had stopped. But sun was already behind the peaks. Forest hut was the only structure visible in the fading light. But to our dismay it was locked. There was no one around who could help us in that uninhabited meadow.

We were tired and dispirited and did not know what we could do. We laid ourselves in the open veranda of forest hut and, before long, all of us were dozing.

We may not have dozed for more than ten minutes when a strange noise woke us up. We saw an old man near the hut. He was making some strange sounds. There was something eerie about him and in the dim evening light he seemed more of a ghost than a man. The meadow was totally silent and appeared frightening rather than beautiful.

The old man turned and looked at us for few moments. Slowly he walked towards us and smiled sheepishly.

‘My goat has gone missing. I am calling her,’ old man said.

‘Would you know where the forest guard has gone? We intend to stay overnight in this hut, but the hut is locked and no one is around,’ I said

‘Are you planning to go to Konsar Nag Lake? You will have to start early so that you are back before sunset.’    

‘Yes, that is what we intend to do, but where is the guard?’

‘I think he is sick. Yes, he is sick. He left for his village a few days back. He was not expecting any guests.’

‘What should we do? We can’t stay and sleep in the open?’

‘Break open the door.’

‘No, that would be criminal,’ Haroon said. He was stickler for rules.

‘You can come and stay with me in my hut, but you will have to pay.’

‘How much?’ asked Timmy. He was the brash one in our group

‘Just give me one hundred rupees. But if you want food it would be two hundreds. ’

‘This is thieving. We won’t pay more than fifty for everything,’ Timmy almost shouted.

‘And we want rice with mutton curry,’ Haroon said but politely.

‘Two hundred and not even a rupee less.’

‘But where is your hut?’ I asked for I could not see any hut nearby.

‘It is over there, behind that grove.’ He pointed towards a grove which was on the west side of forest hut. I looked carefully but could see no hut behind that grove.

‘I can’t see any hut over there,’ I meekly said.

‘If you don’t want to come it is your choice,’ Old man said and moved away.

 Old man was going towards the grove. All of us were eager to have rice and mutton curry and to go to bed. We looked at one other and every one indicated with his eyes that there was no option but to accept old shepherd’s offer. We all followed him. Old shepherd looked back at us and beckoned us to follow him.

The grove appeared to be close by but it was actually quite far off. We were tired when we reached the grove. It was fairly dark. And what we saw disappointed us. There was a ramshackle hut hidden by the grove.

‘Please wait here, let me light the lamp,’ said the old man. He entered the hut and in a few moments the light streamed through the door and windows of the hut.

‘Please come in.’

As we entered we were amazed to see that not only the hut was spacious and beautiful but it was well furnished also. And it was well lit. But curiously it didn’t look like a poor man’s hut and old shepherd was surely a poor man. Or was he?

(to be continued)

© i b arora 

                                          The Vacant House 

              (Please see my post of 29^th May for first part of story)

Govinda was to make the ransom call to P. Kumar. He had gone to a town fifty miles to the north for making this call. He called P. Kumar from a public phone. P. Kumar readily agreed to pay the ransom money. Govinda asked him to hang a red towel from a window facing the main road once money had been arranged.

Sambha and Govinda were pleased with themselves. They were excited with their planning and execution. Everything was going as per the script. But they were not aware that life has many twists and turns, that even on a sunny day one can get caught in a bad hailstorm. 

Now, all this time Sachiin had been thinking about the mystery of dead squirrels. He was sure he had seen dead squirrls but somehow they had vanished when Sambha had checked the cupboard.  

Sambha asked him, “Get me chocolates for the child. He may start crying if he gets hungry.”

Sachiin was reluctant to open the cupboard. But he didn’t want to admit that he was scared. Hesitantly he went to the cupboard and opened it. But the door would not open.

“What is happening here? It seems someone is holding the door from inside,” he thought and shuddered at the idea.  He pulled the door with all his strength. Door opened a bit. But suddenly two bony hands appeared from inside the cupboard and pulled the door back.

Sachiin almost screamed in fear. He could not believe what he had seen. He was sure he had seen two hands pulling the door back. But how could that be? Who could be inside the cupboard?

Sambha ran towards the cupboard and found Sachiin standing still as a statue.

“What has happened now? Why are you standing like a fool?” he shouted in anger and pushed Sachiin aside. He opened the cupboard, took out few chocolates and left. Sachiin was totally confused. He slowly touched the cupboard door and tried to open it. Door opened effortlessly. He looked inside the cupboard. There was nothing there except what they had kept in it. He was dumb founded and just did not know how to react.

In the evening Govinda brought a delightful news.

“Well, my friends, a red towel is hanging in one window of the beautiful house P. Kumar. Now I will make my second call. Make sure nothing goes wrong here.”

“How do you know he has not called the police?”

“Even if he has called the police they won’t be able to touch us. I have a fool proof plan to collect the ransom money. Just leave it to me. But you need to be careful and alert. No one should get even a whiff of suspicion that the kidnapped child is here in this house.”

He left to make the call and this time he went to a public telephone booth located in a place thirty miles to the south. He came back at about eleven in the night and, to his surprise, he found everyone in deep sleep

In the dim light of his torch he saw his friends enjoying their sleep. The kidnapped child was of course under sedation. He thought his friends were totally careless. At least one of them should have been keeping watch.

He was lost in these thoughts when something attracted his attention. And what he saw terrified him to his wit’s end.  Sachiin was holding a man’s skull in his hands.

Before he could even react the skull laughed.  He heard the skull saying, “Was it your brilliant idea to spread a rumour that this house is haunted?”

Govinda felt his legs going wobbly. He was totally bewildered. He wanted to switch off the torch but was too scared to do so. He wanted to run away but felt as if his feet had got rooted to the ground.

“Why are you keeping quiet? You have been here for many days; did you ever see any ghost here?” 

Govinda had lost both his voice and ability to move.

“I have been here for many years; I have never seen a ghost in this house. I am telling you, this house is not haunted.  You have just spread a false rumour.”

Govinda was not listening; he had become senseless and had collapsed on the floor.

When Govinda regained his consciousness it was early morning. His friends were still asleep. Kidnapped child was still unconscious. He looked at Sachiin; there was nothing in his hands. But when he recalled experience of the night he began to tremble in fear.

He could not control himself and he woke up his friends. When they were awake he said in an agitated and confused tone, “This is a haunted house, let us leave this place immediately.”

“Yes, he is right. It is a haunted house,” Sachiin babbled. He too was trembling in fear.

“What nonsense are you talking about?  It is not a haunted house; we had just spread a rumour. But it was a false rumour. You know it. We all know it. Now, stop being foolish and don’t behave like silly girls,” Sambha said.

“I am not staying here even for a minute; I am leaving right now.” Govinda said in fearful voice. Sachiin agreed with him.

Sambha was shocked but he could not stop them from leaving. He felt forlorn and helpless. He was apprehensive that someone may have seen his friends leaving the house. They were too agitated to take precautions and anyone could have noticed them leaving the vacant house. He knew that it was no longer safe to remain there. He had to ensure that his friends did nothing foolish.  Reluctantly he followed his friends.

 When he was about to cross the door his left foot hit something lying on the floor. Instinctively he looked down and shuddered at what he saw. He had kicked a man’s skull which was rolling over on the floor. The skull was crying as if in pain.

“Are you blind? Why did you kick me? Why can’t you let me sleep peacefully?” Sambha was dumb struck. He just could not comprehend what he had heard. He could not believe that the skull rolling on the floor had uttered those words. He was terrified and he ran away from that place not knowing where he was going.

 A phone call from an unknown number informed P. Kumar that his child was in the vacant house. P. Kumar promptly informed the police. Police traced the phone call. It had been made from a phone which was installed in the vacant house. But police was surprised to find that, months back, that phone had been disconnected for non-payment of bills. Everyone was, however, pleased to find the kidnapped child; he was safe. 

Police carried out a thorough search of the house but could find no clue as to the identity of the kidnappers. In one cupboard, however, they found fruit juice packets, chocolates, biscuits and headless chickens smeared with vermillion.

© i b arora