Hazrat's Sandals - Delhi Karavan Chronicles

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I heard somewhere that there are three thumb rules to good storytelling... unfortunately, no one knows them.

I'm an anti-format person since childhood. Be it a coloring book or my monthly budget, I've always missed the boundaries. There is no harm in coloring an elephant's eyes little grey, in case you miss that little boundary of its oval-shaped eyes.

I may not know the thumb rules of storytelling, but I can tell you the kind of stories I enjoy. 

Firstly, they should be long enough to be in that zone for a while.

They should carry expressions.

And yes, they should not carry a particular format - A storyteller should not stick to the beginning, middle, or end, or anything hard and fast. He or she must feel free to tell a story, a story within a story, or a story within a story within a story... or maybe crossovers. Ahh! I'm listening to all of that.

Asif Sahab told this story to us on many walks - Sometimes individually - Sometimes as a story within a story (or within within, you got that)

And this story is too close to my heart.

So take a bellyful of breath, hold it to the count of five, and release it.

Shall we begin?

It was a foggy winter morning when a middle-aged man came to the khanqah of Hazrat Nizamuddin Aulia. Just like many other fariyadi and devotees, he was expecting something from Hazrat. The khanqah was filled with too many people that day. He was worried as the days were approaching and a lot of arrangements need to be made. His only daughter is about to get married. And like every responsible father, he had to take care of everything. His family was going through a major financial crisis at that time. He heard a lot about Hazrat and that he never send anyone empty-handed. 

He waited calmly in the queue, trying hard to control his shivering, partly from the spine-chilling weather, and partly from worries on his head.

When he entered the room, Hazrat smiled at him. The man offered him his respectful salam and sat near him. Hazrat's aura was such that he couldn't utter a word. He kept staring at his feet for a while. He had faith that Hazrat will understand his situation without him saying anything.

As other people were waiting outside, he stood up and went out of the room. He planned to stay at the khanqah that night, expecting that Hazrat may call him and offer some help for his daughter's marriage.

The night passed. Without any such luck, he decided to leave for his village early so that he could reach there before dusk. He went to Hazrat to ask for his permission. Hazrat gave his blessings, looking directly into his eyes as if he is reading something. The man tried to look somewhere else but couldn't. When he turned to leave Hazrat told him to stop.

"There is pair of sandals kept right next to the door. Keep them with yourself. May the Almighty be with you."

The man obeyed, though doubted his decision of coming to the Khanqah in the first place. 

Heavy rainfall greeted him in the afternoon and he couldn't cross even the city when the Sun started to set. He decided to spend the night in a Sarai (motel kind of structure).

He changed his clothes, made his bed, and kept Hazrat's sandals near his head. 

It was around midnight when he felt someone's presence near his head. It was too dark. He woke up with a thud. A man in his mid-forties was squatting near his head and weeping. He was wearing an embroidered angarakha, just like someone from the royal family wears.

'What happened sir, have I committed some horrifying mistake?' He asked.

'From where have you got these sandals, my dear friend?' The man who was weeping countered his question.

'I got this from Khanqah of Mehboob -E - Ilahi, Hazrat Nizamuddin Aulia. He gifted this to me himself.

'

'Can you give me these? I'm ready to pay any amount you want.' He stood up in a hurry and took out two moderate size cloth bags filled with gold coins. He handed over both bags to him, spilling a few coins on the ground. 

The man was numb. He felt like he is still in his deep slumber. That coins were enough even if he had to make arrangements for the marriage of ten more daughters. He watched that man keeping his head on the sandals, wiping them with his sleeves, keeping them on his head, and marching out of the Sarai.

He was still in a state of shock when he heard two young men talking.

"Wasn't he Amir Khusrow, The court poet in the darbar of the Sultan?"

"Call him Tooti -e-Hind Amir Khusrow."

The next morning when Hazrat woke up, he felt like a celebrated baarat, a musical procession heading towards his Khanqah. He saw that Khusrow is walking towards the Khanqah with Hazrat's sandals on his head. Hundreds of people were following him, singing praises of the Almighty. Some were dancing in all trance, some were weeping, and some were just filled with joy.

Khusrow bowed slowly towards Hazrat, one by one he slipped both his sandals on his holy feet and stood back up.

'Oh Turk, how much gold coins you bartered for my sandals?' Hazrat used to call Khusrow Turk lovingly.

'I just gave what all I had. If he asked for my life, I would have gladly given that too' He said with moist eyes, still looking at Hazrat's feet.

'Ahh! you got them at an extremely cheap price.'

Whenever this story ends, I try to notice other people's smiles. It's like a universal way of responding to that story - Reason? I'm not sure but the story might give the listeners a sense of bliss and contentment.

See, I just catch you smiling too. What a lovely smile you have.

Love, Laughter, and Peace

HRN

ps - I tried to recite this story a couple of months back. Though It's nothing like Asif Sahab tells us this story. He is just mind-blowing. If you still wish to listen you can click here. Thank You.

The Ageless Ghost

Does that ever happen to you that you see the same person again and again in different places and on different occasions?

Do you see similar faces, whom you don't know directly, but you see them here and there? You see those different faces here and there, near your office or in your college. But you ignore them until those faces become names and those names become relations. 

This story is about one of those faces.

I was still in school when someone pushed me from my school bus. I was quite habitual by then to get bullied at various circumstances, where they find me vulnerable enough to perform their mischievous activities. Being locked in the restrooms or being slapped from behind was quite regular. And yes, being pushed from the school bus when I was about to de-board was something new.

 I couldn't see the face of the kid who pushed me, but he must be very strong as I fell at quite a distance from that age-old, yellow coloured monstrous bus. When I understood what actually happened to me, I saw a white colour Omni van skidding towards me, trying hard to save my life. My limbs, I couldn't move them. They felt heavy. I was numb and everything went into darkness after that.

When I opened my eyes, I saw a group of people around me. They were chattering indistinctively. Someone was asking about my well-being. Some were offering me water. Some were asking me about my residence. But there was this one guy who was staring at me from a couple of shoulders behind. That was the first time I was consciously seeing that face. Hair, neatly combed. Wearing an off-white bush shirt. His eyes were quite sunken in its sockets. But that was not the first time I was actually seeing. I had seen him before. Where? I actually don't know. 

His eyes met mine for a couple of seconds. He was seeing my face without any noticeable expression. And, in a blink of an eye, I had lost him. I couldn't see him anywhere.

He literally disappeared - not like some djinn or some hill station ghost. One can easily disappear in the crowd, especially in a place like Delhi.

Where have I seen that face before? Was I imagining or I really saw that face?

I ward off the dust from my school bag from my palms, hung my water bottle back around my neck, and went straight away to my home. 

When I reached home, my Dada Ji (Grandfather) was preparing lunch. My father had a transferable job and my Mother used to accompany him from one city to the other. Dada Ji was my family as well as closest acquaintance.

My Dada Ji always encourages me to read more and more books. He was a retired librarian from Delhi University. He had this huge collection of books and magazines, of course, to read and to make sure he didn't miss his job even after retirement. So I was presented with various books to read and mould up my thought process from time to time. 

Unlike other voracious readers, I never expressed myself through writing. Instead of that, I started sketching at a very young age.

I went to my little room to change my school uniform. But before that, I took out my sketchbook and drew that face in it. It was not that accurate, but yes, it was giving me more of an idea of his facial features. Though, whenever I was closing my eyes, I could see his face quite accurately. 

I didn't say anything to my Dada Ji - Not about that little accident and not about that face with sunken eyes. 

..............................................................................................................................................................

Years passed and I enrolled myself in a fine arts course while pursuing my graduation in history. It was a hazy morning and I got up around eight. I got ready at a lightning speed as I was running late for my morning class. I didn't wipe my motorbike clean and rode at a speed which we can easily categorise under 'fast'. I just reached the other side of the road when I realised that I had left my paintbrush set on my desk. I cursed myself and took a 'U' turn when a black colour SUV car hit the rear mudguard of my bike. Though the car was not at a very high speed it was enough to make my motorbike imbalanced. I was again numb and everything went black.

I realised out of the blue that my numbness is nothing but a kind of surrender. It's a position when a person accepts his fate without retaliating much. 

When I opened my eyes, I saw a little ray of light. It took me some time to realize that I was under that car and the rear wheel of that giant vehicle is at a good eight inches distance from my neck. I moved a bit and slowly came out. I saw two people were holding the collar of the car's driver. They were asking whether I was fine or not. I asked them to leave that guy. The driver came to me and asked that whether I wish to go to the hospital. I denied it and told him to go. Some blood was oozing from my right elbow and forehead. My right ankle was paining and I was facing difficulty in walking. A few people were staring at me with that usual sorry feeling. And then, I saw him again.

Hair was neatly combed. He was wearing a semi-printed, olive green bush-shirt. His height was a little shorter than mine. Lean frame. Eyes Sunken. I started walking towards him but my ankle was not allowing me to do that.  He was staring at me directly. Expressionless again. 

He disappeared again in no time. I tried to look for him but he was nowhere. 

This time, I was more afraid than curious. Somehow I reached home without changing much of my Bike's gear. I tried to walk normally but Dada Ji noticed my limping. He didn't ask many questions until he saw my kerchief all red with blood. I explained everything as we both walked towards my room, without telling him about that mysterious person. Though I wanted to tell him about that face with sunken eyes, something stopped me. His face with crisscrossed wrinkles was looking worried for me when he was cleaning the wound from my forehead. 

When he went outside, I took out my sketchbook from my bag and started drawing that face. This time I took care of all the details I could remember. I made those sunken eyes. I made that clean-shaven face with bushy brows and neatly combed hair. I used different colour graphic pens to exaggerate its features and tried to make it as accurate as I could. 

I closed the sketchbook as well as my eyes. I took few deep breaths. And something got stuck in my mind. I opened my eyes and started walking towards my old cupboard with some pain in my ankle.  I opened it and took out some loose sheets as well as my old sketchbooks. I found the sketch I had made around nine years back in a dismantled file, whose cover was missing. I walked to my bed and compared those two sketches.

I skipped a beat when I realised that the face hasn't aged even a single day. He was in his early twenties when I saw him for the first time. He still looks the same. And that was humanly impossible. I had that creepy feeling which is hard to express.

'Am I imagining this guy or he actually exists?'

'Is he a ghost?'

'Is he trying to kill me or trying to harm me?'

'Is he an alien?'

'Do I have a past life connection with him?'

After applying all permutations and combinations my mind became extremely tired. I slept for a while. When I woke up, my body was burning with a high fever.

.........................................................................................................................................................

I didn't see him for a while. I secured a job in a news agency as a core designer. The designation was great to show off, but all I had to do was creating basic cartoon sketches for various political leaders and famous personalities, which are further converted into animated videos, using VFX and other stuff. The job was tedious yet challenging. And most importantly, the salary was good enough.

One night, while coming home from the office, I got a bit late. Electricity cuts were not very common in those days in the cities. But a sudden spark on an electricity pole made that happen.

It was completely dark in our residential complex. I switched on the flashlight of my cellular phone to reach safely at home. I really don't know that from where that partially covered, dry sewer came into my way and my left leg got stuck into it. Now, my left leg was into the sewer up to the knee and my right leg was still steady on the ground. My phone was still in my right hand. I placed the hand near that sewer and tried to enlarge the opening of the sewer with my bare hands. 

It took me a minute or two to come out of that unattended sewer. I was quite fine and unhurt. I tried to cover the sewer as much as I could with my hands. I was shaking the flashlight to see the maximum area. I was not in a mood to stuck again in any sewer or potholes. 

While quickly placing the flashlight up and down, I again see that face.

I couldn't notice his clothes or his neatly combed hair this time. Still, I'm quite sure that he was looking not even a day older since I last saw him. I was literally shivering now. When I again placed my flashlight in that direction, he was nowhere to be seen. All I could see was mist and early winter fog. 

I sprinted towards my home without thinking much about uncovered sewers or potholes. I saw Dada Ji at the main gate. He noticed my shortness of breath and asked me about what happened. I took the emergency light from his hand and asked him to come with me. 

We both went into my room. He comfortably sat on the chair and I was busy making the sketch in my file. It took me around fifteen minutes to complete the sketch with a well-sharpened pencil. I took out the other two sketches from my old cupboard and placed all three in front of my Grandfather. 

For the next five minutes, I narrated the whole story. I described the whole incident when I got pushed from the bus and how I saw him that day. I describe that motorbike accident to him. And then, I told him about that incident. I told him that he still looks the same every time I see him. I also told him that I have a strong belief that he wants to kill me or harm me.

When I said this, Dada Ji picked up the sketch which I made after the bike crash, watched it closely, and pressed it against his chest. I was not able to grasp what was happening. The next moment I heard his wrinkled face all wet with the continuous flowing of tears. His shoulders were moving up and down in a rhythm when he was crying.

"What happened Dada Ji?" I asked him, keeping my hand on his back.

He said nothing for a while. He was just looking at the sketch and crying silently. I could smell something eerie. I offered him a glass of water. He was drinking it very slowly, keeping his sight fixed on the sketch.

"He is my elder brother." He said in the softest voice possible. "He died from the cholera epidemic before partition when we were still in Lahore.".

I was shocked. My lips were trembling. I felt a kind of weakness in my knees. I sat near Dada Ji's chair. I held his leg and kept my head on his lap. The silence was soothing. 

Dada Ji started caressing my head when he said " And Bhai Sahab (My Brother) was not trying to harm you, on the contrary, he was trying to protect you from those accidents. He was protecting the whole family when he was alive. He is still doing the same. He is not some ageless ghost, he is your guardian angel, my child. He protects you from the present as well as future dangers.

'Guardian Angel' these words still ring in my mind.

 Does that ever happen to you that you see the same person again and again in different places and on different occasions?

Don't Ignore that face - He or she can be your Guardian Angel.

The Dancing Ghost - The Adventures of Hunny Bunny

 In the middle of the evening market, there Is a little shop which sells different things in different seasons. In summers, they serve flavored Soda, Squashes, and ice creams. And in winters, they generally rely on Boiled eggs and omelets. The owner of the shop is a middle-aged Sikh gentleman, called Manjeet Singh. He was famous for his fresh soda, delicious omelets, and funny anecdotes. His shop was quite popular among students who go to tuition classes and among those who bunk classes frequently.

Their daily Customers were Hunny and Bunny. If we talk about Hunny, his build doesn't look like a fourteen-year-old kid. He looked more like a grown-up man. His chest was naturally broad, and his arms were big. On the other hand, he is known for using his strength more than his mind.

Bunny was small, but a sharp guy. He analyzes things before taking any decision. He never flows with the emotions and knows when to start and when to stop.

They both were special customers of Manjeet and they always get flavored soda, irrespective of the season.

One thing which is common between them is their differences, which make their bond so strong.

And yes, they both are ultimate pranksters.

Just a week before, bunny talked to one of his classmates on phone for more than one hour in a girl's voice. That poor guy brought a bunch of red roses for a girl studying in another section. And no points for guessing, the principal called his parents to see her in her office. No one knows who did that prank, but yes, they are very good at it.

Sitting on the bench inside Manjeet's shop, and holding glasses of orange-flavored soda, they both were discussing the last night's match. 

'You know Dada wears a piece of elephant tooth around his neck to perform well in every match.' Hunny said while folding the arm of his t-shirt.

'From where do you get this cheesy news, you dumbass?' Bunny said while poking his finger on his belly.

'Arey! I listened to it on the radio last night.' he took out his brand-new yellow color Walkman from his bag.

'From where did you get this?' Bunny asked.

'I bought it from my pocket money he said while taking out earphones from his bag.

'Pocket Money? How much can you save from the two rupees you get every day? If you have that much money, at least clear Manjeet Paaji's balance amount.' he raised his voice so that Manjeet could listen to their conversation.

'You know what, keeping an elephant's tooth is a black magic trick. You can't imagine how dangerous these black magic tricks are. ' Manjeet said without giving attention to monetary discussions they were having.

'Oh, Paaji how do you know all this?' Hunny said, relieved that Manjeet didn't ask for a month-old pending balance.

'Arey, I was in Himachal for more than ten years. I have seen all these things from my own eyes. I have encountered Chudails, Pishach, and many other demons on the hills. These things are not new for me.'

Hunny was less excited and more afraid listening to all this. But Bunny was chilled out, more eager to listen to the details. 

'Oh then? What did you do?' Hunny asked again.

'I Didn't run away, never. I faced that lady in white, whose feet were backward. My eyes got red and she couldn't face my anger. She ran away like a kid. They only attack weak souls and I belong to the family of truck drivers. Anger is our trademark.' Manjeet's voice was raised. People who were busy with their grocery shopping started peeping inside the shop, thinking that an argument is going on.

'You are so brave Manjeet Paaji, just like our Taara Paaji. He was also a truck driver, you know. He went all the way to Pakistan to get her wife back.' Hunny said with a twinkle in his eyes.

But Bunny was silent. Something was tickling him from inside.

He stood up and gestured to Hunny that it's time to go home.

'What are you thinking Hunny?' 

'He didn't even ask money for the soda we just had' 

Bunny spanked hard on Hunny's back and both of them walked towards their home, which was very near to the evening market.

......................................................................................................................

The power cuts were common those days. In January, when the whole city was freezing, power cuts made less difference to anyone. 

It was 9.40 PM when Bunny called Hunny on their landline phone and called him outside of his house. 

After twenty minutes or so, Hunny came out with Walkman in his hands, without hands-free cable. He was listening to a remix version of an old song called Kaanta Laga.

'You know Bunny, the girl in the video of this song died because she made a tattoo on her arm. These needles cause cancer, you know.' Hunny said.

They start walking towards the gate of the street. Hunny was talking continuously but Bunny was revising the plan he made in his mind. He couldn't afford to make any mistake. He gave a washed handkerchief to Hunny and told him to tie it around his face.

'But what in the world you are trying to do?' he asked while tying up the handkerchief.

'You want to dance?' he asked

'Of course, I would love to. You know I learned that famous step, you want to see?'

He crisscrossed his feet and started jumping

'Aae Mere Dil Tu Gaye jaa

Hey aa Hey aa oh aa hey yaa' 

He sang and danced, trying to imitate a Hindi film star.

'Stop jumping like a maniac you dumb ass' Bunny pushed him to walk faster.

They both hid behind a little wall near the street's gate.

'Hunny! Listen to me very carefully. Wear the Cap of your hoodie and don't remove the handkerchief, no matter what will happen.' he explained to Hunny in a mere whisper.

'When I'll tell you to dance, dance like a maniac. When I'll tell you to run, run like a maniac, do you understand?'

'Yes brother, but why the hell will we dance in the middle of the street, in the middle of the night? It's freezing man, and you want to dance.' Hunny complained.

'Don't use your mind so much, your knees will start aching. just do what I tell you to do.' 

Hunny held his knees and nodded.

Bunny was looking at his radiant, digital watch again and again. And suddenly, the voice of an old scooter's engine was audible to them.

'Wear your cap and follow me' he said 

Bunny started walking more like a zombie in the middle of the street. And behind him, Hunny, who looked like a mountain, started dancing like a monkey. The man on the scooter reduced his speed as he came nearer to them. Now Bunny started making strange metallic voices, which was so creepy that even the dancing Hunny was shivering. 

The man left his scooter on the road and ran backward for a while. Bunny started running behind him. The man, who was wearing a blanket around his shoulders, removed it and threw it on the ground, and ran for his life. He was shouting for help at the top of his voice. 

Bunny stopped as he listened to the gates opening of various houses on the other side of the road. He ran behind the parked cars and scooters before anyone could see him. He looked for Hunny behind the street's gate. 

A cold sweat moved from his forehead to his cheek when he saw Hunny still dancing like a maniac in the middle of the street.

He threw an empty plastic water bottle towards him to catch his attention. And it worked. Hunny stopped dancing and hid near Bunny, behind a white color Maruti 800.

Bunny punched hard in his belly when he felt something rock solid under his Hoodie.

'Kaanta Laga

Haye Laga

Bangle ke pichhe'

His Walkman, which he was hiding under his Hoodie, came to life and started playing that retro-Remix song, whose model died because she made a tattoo on her arm. 

'Hunny close this shit and run for your life, you dumb ass'.

They ran without looking back, and thankfully, no one saw them.

'Who was that Man? And why you did this to him?' Hunny asked him.

'You didn't recognize him? He was Manjeet Paaji. He came to ask for the money for the soda we had in the evening.' 

'You little devil, why you did this to him? And why the hell you made me dance like shit in front of him?' he said holding Bunny's neck tightly in his arms.

' Didn't you see how afraid he was? I wanted to see the bloodshot eyes of the proud offspring of the Truck driver's family.' Bunny was laughing and catching his breath, trying hard to come out of the reach of the strong arms of Hunny.

They both were sitting on Parked scooters in the middle of the night near their homes. 

'I can't forget your dance till the last breath of my life, you dumbass.' Bunny lied on the scooter, laughing like a maniac.

Hunny was embarrassed for a moment and then joined him in the laughter. 

Bunny punched hard on his belly again.

'Bangle ke pichhe

Teri beri ke niche'

They both sat on the floor, enjoying the uncontrollable laugh and ReMix Version of the song playing on Hunny's Walkman.

......................................................................................................................

The next evening they both went to Manjeet's shop to see him and to drink lemon soda.

'What happened Paaji? Are you sick? You are looking weak.' Hunny asked in uncontrollable excitement.

Bunny poked his elbow in his belly, gesturing him to shut his mouth.

'Arey Hunny Bhai, you won't believe what I saw last night. As a daily routine, I was going to feed leftovers of eggs and bread crumbs to the stray dogs near the main road, when I saw two deadly ghosts walking on the road. I understood the situation very well and parked my scooter near the park. I ran behind them with my bloodshot eyes. They both ran away. But you know ghosts suck up your energy from distance. If they had caught some weaker guy like Bunny, they would have made Keema of him.' Manjeet said in a single breath.

They both control their laughter.

'I was down with a little fever last night, but now I'm perfectly fine. What will you have? Lemon or orange?'

'Paaji you are so brave, just like Taara Paaji. Long live Manjeet Paaji. Long live Taara Paaji.' Hunny said lifting his fist in the air.

Manjeet was smiling. He was happy with the delicious pudding served to his ego. But something made his smile fade. It was the real incident that happened last night.

They both sat on the bench, enjoying their respective sodas. For a change, they paid money and started leaving from there.

'Hunny Bhai, you both must be very careful. There's a big fat ghost in your locality, who is known for dancing like a maniac on the middle of the road.' Manjeet said with a sense of care in his voice.

'Sure Paaji, we'll take care of it' Bunny replied.

They were laughing like hell to their home.

......................................................................................................................

That night, they both were sitting on Parked scooters in front of Hunny's house. He was holding a torchlight and told Bunny to bring his bicycle. They attached the torchlight in front of his bicycle to have a better vision in the dark.

Hunny was riding and Bunny was sitting silently on the carrier behind him. Hunny was whistling and Bunny was smiling, remembering the prank they did last night. 

Suddenly Hunny applied brakes with all the force he had. Bunny slapped his back and told him to ride. But Hunny was all numb. Bunny tried to see the situation when he saw two figures in all white right in the middle of the road. The bigger one was dancing, spreading his arms in the air. The smaller one was dragging his feet and slowly coming towards them. They couldn't move for a while. It was Bunny who dragged Hunny from the Bicycle and they both ran for their life, screaming at the top of their voices, leaving their torchlight attached bicycle on the road.

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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