Tales from Beyond (continued)

She thought she could hear it distinctly. The sound of sobbing. Perhaps a child. It was a pitiable, anguished sound such as she had never heard before. As far as she knew there were no children in the family of the domestic help that lived behind the bungalow. She decided to ask Rama the maid, the following day. A dog howled in the distance and all was quiet again. She sighed and decided to turn in before she became fanciful again. She picked up her flashlight and opened the door to the house. She was annoyed at the frequency of power cuts in this town. She was in a large living room that had seen better days. She had been told the house was more than ninety years old. It had belonged to one family throughout it's history. The family of Rai Bahadur. The large living room was roomy in the old style with a high ceiling, and big spacious windows with low sills. She could imagine someone sitting on the sill, looking out into the garden beyond or else reading a book. There were two ventilators at the top of each window. It reminded her of her school in Lucknow which had once been the hunting grounds of the Nawab of Awadh, and where owls often looked down at the students from the ventilators of the classroom. A huge mantle piece adorned the wall adjacent to the door she entered through. Over the mantle was the portrait of a young man. It was a strong face. Deep set eyes that challenged the world, but kind. The nose was aquiline, the mouth firm and the chin resolute with a little cleft that would have made a woman swoon. It was not a handsome face in the traditional sense. It had, she tried to find the word...yes, character. She suddenly had this curious sensation of having known this man. She laughed out aloud. That was ridiculous! she had better go to bed before she saw pink elephants!........................continued in next post

The woman was annoyed. 'Ganesh down the street' mumbled an excuse and refused to come to the house. She thought she saw curiosity mingled with sympathy in the eyes of those she approached. As she retraced her steps from the market back to the colony of bungalows, she noticed a movement behind the windows of one of the perpetually vacant bungalows. As she neared the bungalow a slim, attractive woman perhaps in her early twenties, stepped out. She was of medium height, and had an oval face with a pert little nose and laughing brown eyes. Her hair was a dark brown and slicked back into a high pony tail with just a wisp playing about her ears. She had that typical tanned complexion matrimonial columns would describe as 'wheatish'. Her mouth was a little wide for that oval shaped face, but judging from the laugh lines playing around the corners, used to laughing often. She was dressed in a loose pastel green salwar kurta outfit which flowed in sleek comfortable lines on her slim young body. She wore no dupatta. It seemed as if she had been waiting for somebody to pass by, for no sooner than the woman closed in on the house, the young lady stepped forward with a smile and a namaste. "Iam Anjali Bhende" she introduced herself, to which the woman replied "Iam Sushma Agarwal" hello! It's nice to see humans again. Do you live here"? "Well, yes whenever my husband and I can get away from the city" she replied with a smile. "Are you here on vacation, and where do you live"? she asked. "At Panchwati the last bungalow on this lane" replied Sushma. She thought she saw that familiar veil drop over the laughing brown eyes. Ah here it comes she thought. "Iam renting the house for a little while" said Sushma hurriedly. "Oh. I see" said Anjali with obvious relief. "though why this house"? she asked. "There are so many bungalows vacant here. You would be better off in any one of the other houses" she finished lamely. "No particular reason. I just happened to like it's personality" explained Sushma, feeling a little foolish and a little annoyed at having to explain. "I don't want to interfere but I think you should know the house has a reputation" said Anjali hesitantly. "for what"? asked Sushma remembering similiar conversations with other people and trying not to show her irritation. "I know someone was murdered there, if that's what you mean" said Sushma in a matter of fact tone. "oh, you know? then why would you choose such a place"? asked Anjali incredously. "Well, dead people don't bother me, it's the living" replied Sushma with a trace of bitterness. "I have warned you, it is an evil place." Anjali finished with conviction. "Anyway, let's talk about something pleasant". said Anjali hurriedly, afraid to sound nosy. As the crickets chirped around her, snatches of that conversation came back to Sushma. Suddenly she stiffened..... continued on next post

Tales from beyond

The night was eerily quiet, except for the incessant chirping of the crickets. Not a leaf stirred, not even the slightest whiff of air reached the solitary figure sitting hunched in a chair, on the verandah of the decrepit bungalow. It was as if the stage was set for an event, and the world waited in hushed anticipation. A slight prickle of unease went through the lone woman in the white lawn chair, and she cursed herself for her foolishness. She could never resist challenges, but this time she had gone too far. She had come to this quiet hill town with its unabashed beauty, to hide from civilization. During the day, the sun shone with intense ferocity in this quiet town, as if to dispel all doubts, and the sky was a pure cobalt blue. Cascades of bougainville in shades of red, pink and pure white, adorned the walls of cottages and bungalows, otherwise neglected by their owners. The hills stood tall and silent, watching over the green valley where cows and sheep grazed, and birds of every hue and sound twittered and quarreled amidst the dense foliage. She tried to remember all of this as she shivered involuntarily. It was that conversation she'd had with the housemaid. The housemaid was a plump, cheerful lady of uncertain age with shiny black skin, hair drawn back into a bun, a round face and black beady eyes that knew more than they would reveal. She had casually mentioned that a sahib from London had been brutally murdered in this very bungalow, and no one had lived in it since. It was done with a studied casualness, and a certain amount of relish. Then there was that conversation at the market with the plumber who asked which bungalow he should come to, to fix the leaking faucet. When told he had blanched visibly, and then quickly recovered. "Memsahib, I wouldn't stay there if I were you" he said earnestly. "Why not"? asked the woman surprised. "Well, things happen there at night" he said furitively. "What things?" asked the woman. "Things" he said under his breath and pretended to busy himself with some work. "Well do you think you could fix that faucet for me"? asked the woman irritably. "Iam busy. Ask Ganesh down the street" he muttered and then again "Memsahib, please listen to me, nothing good ever happened in that house. Leave right away, now" he pleaded. continued in next post