“Don’t you think ghosts must have a form?” Shah quizzed me.
“But why?”
“How do they become visible to the human eye?”
It got me thinking as well. What he was saying seemed to make sense. Isn’t it through the five senses that humans grasp the realities of the external world? After all, it is only when it assumes a shape or smell or sound or some earthly presence can we know that there is a ghost.
“You’re right. If a ghost has to be visible, it has to have a form,” I conceded.
“Fine. So let’s say the ghost does have a form or that it takes on a certain form. But how do we know the particular guise it appears in? ” Shah quizzed me further.
“That’s easy. Let’s say the ghost appears as a young woman. Wouldn’t you wonder why she has come our way in the graveyard at this time of the night? We can tell immediately that a ghost is behind it.”
“That’s precisely my point. It’s we who imagine that the ghost will appear as a woman when it approaches young men and as a man when it approaches young women. Are we inside a college campus or what? This is a graveyard. The ghost might as well appear as a buffalo or a donkey, no?”
“We would still have our doubts: Whose buffalo is it? Why is it wandering in the graveyard?”
“This isn’t a matter we can take lightly. Please understand. What if it appears in your guise before me? Or, if it appears like me in front of you? What then?”
“Let’s deal with it when that happens. The problem arises only then, right?” I said nonchalantly, turning over the pile of ash on the pyre with a thick stick in my hand.
“Why are you raking it up?” Shah said in disgust.
“If this is a woman’s corpse, we might find diamonds from her nose ring or ear rings, you know,” I said.
Shah said, “The pyre is lit after those things are taken off.”
A few broken bones fell out from the ashes. Realizing that the corpse hadn’t been cremated properly, I struck at the bones. The heated bones softly crumbled into ashes.
The sky was overcast. One could see the town in the glow of the distant street lamps. Shah and I had come to the graveyard at midnight to check whether ghosts were found there. Dasappa, our music teacher, had challenged us: “Ghosts can certainly be seen in a graveyard on a new moon night. You can find out, if you have the guts!”
We waited for long; but we could see nothing. Surmising that insults might infuriate the ghost and make it show up, Shah shouted all kinds of obscenities at it. . However his potent and versatile obloquies didn’t seem to move the ghost at all. I sat there appreciating the artistry of his obscene abuses. Eventually, Shah’s arsenal of profanities was empty. His vocabulary exhausted, he fell silent.
The graveyard had three separate stone platforms for cremating corpses. Perhaps dedicated for the three religious communities. Ash had piled up on each one of them. A few graves could be seen a short distance away. Owing perhaps to the rains or the digging of fresh graves, broken bones and skulls were strewn around. I sat quietly for some time and took in the scene. All kinds of thoughts about this place to which everyone returns at the end arose in me. It was then that the yoga of doubt about how we would identify the ghost started taking hold of Shah. Soon enough, his doubts began to take over my mind too.
I said, “Shah, aren’t we better off scooting before the ghost shows up looking like us and plays games?”
“Yes, I’ve been thinking about it too. I have an idea. It can stop the ghost from tricking us that way.”
“What might that be?”
“Chum Bitsim, Kungtsu Fu,” said Shah.
Unable to decipher his words, I looked at him perplexed.
“It’s a mantra, you know!”
“What kind of mantra is it? Sounds like a mantra ‘Made in Japan’. Is it Japanese?”
“It is ‘Made in China’. They are Chinese words. They will be the code words between us. When I call out to you, you should say, “Chum Bitsim” and then start talking. When you talk to me, I’ll say, “Kungtsu Fu”. If I don’t utter these code words, it means you’re talking to the ghost, and not me.”
“But why Chinese words? Isn’t it better to use Sanskrit or Kannada?”
“No. My teacher mentioned those words in the Linguistics class the other day. If we use words from our own language, the ghost may understand them and manipulate us.”
Shah had come up with a way to overcome our problem. I wasn’t too happy though about using those words which Shah claimed to be Chinese. Trying not to forget them, I kept repeating Chum Bitsim and Kungtsu Fu in my head.
Shah went away to take a pee. As for me, I tried to recall the code words: if I remembered mine, I would forget his. If I remembered his, I would forget mine. If I remembered both, I would forget which belonged to whom. I started muttering under my breath, as one while praying. I wish we had agreed on some code words from a familiar language. We had come in search of a ghost; but here I was learning up some ‘Made in China’ mantra, altogether abandoning our purpose.
I heard a sound behind me. Expecting Shah, I turned. It was indeed him. I asked, “So, what now?” He said, “Kungtsu fu” and then called out my name. Perhaps he was rehearsing what he would do if he sighted a ghost.
I had completely forgotten the code word Shah had given me only a few minutes earlier and which I had tried so hard to mug up. Let alone the full code word, I couldn’t recall even the first syllable. Frantically searching for the correct word in my head and utterly muddled, I looked at Shah blankly. Shah was staring at me with a strange intensity. What a time to be let down by that blasted Chinese mantra!
Waving his stick vigorously, Shah turned towards me and, as if he was addressing a ghost, shouted loudly: “Look here. Your cheap magic won’t work with me. Stop all this nonsense of disguising yourself. Out with it, tell us: Who are you?” Reading about it now in the story, you may laugh. But when Shah, stick in hand, started yelling at me in the graveyard that dark night, I felt alarmed. If you’d seen how witch doctors exorcise ghosts in our villages, you wouldn’t think there was anything unnatural about my fears.
But the wretched codeword I’d mugged up eluded me as though I had never heard it before in my life. Each time I felt alarmed that Shah would wield the stick, the word disappeared deeper in the recesses of my mind, beyond recall. I raised my hand as if to say, , “Just wait until I recall the words.”
“Tell me who you are!” Shah shouted again and moved a step closer.
“Oh-o! The situation is getting out of hand! The ghost seems to have both of us under its spell. If we get into a fight and die bludgeoning each other, those who will find us the next morning will certainly think that it is the work of ghosts. Something has to be done soon,” I thought.
Shah took … another menacing step forward.
“Wait a minute. For some reason, I can’t remember that blasted Chinese mantra you taught me,” I shouted in fright. Hearing my words, Shah replied disdainfully, “It’s you!” He must have felt disappointed that I was a mere human and not a ghost.
As Shah started to teach me those wretched Chinese words again, some crackling sounds came from one of the pyres nearby with a small cloud of smoke starting to take form from the ashes. This happened as our investigation into ghosts, which had begun playfully, , had slowly started to assume an ominous dimension. We watched anxiously to see whether the smoke would transform itself into a ghost. But the smoke didn’t take any shape; it simply settled on the ashes and disappeared altogether. We guessed that the embers or the crackling half-burnt logs must have created the smoke. We could not simply assume that this was the case without examining the facts; so we went closer. A tiny, scab-ridden mongrel pup was asleep on the warm ashes. It was so cosy that the pup lay there like a corpse, coiling its body, without once looking at us. If it continued to sleep this way, I thought, , someone doing a cremation might end up offering it to the Fire god.
“What kind of graveyard is this, I say? Not a single ghost to be seen! Come on, let’s go. Who knows what that music teacher imagined to be a ghost under the spell of his drinks?” With this, Shah had announced his decision to go back.
I felt he was right in his decision. We had absolutely no faith in the existence of ghosts or in their being visible to human beings. But it looks like, the lack of belief in ghosts has no relation to one’s fears. Rationalists and atheists at the level of thought, we were faint-hearted people who wondered if ghosts might exist when we contemplated our innermost feelings in the solitude of darkness.
Describing the different types of veenas – Saraswathi veena, Rudra veena, Gotu vadya, Vichitra veena, and so on – our music teacher had noted that the Kinnara veena, made from vulture bones, when played, made the Mohini ghost follow you spell-bound. This is what had got us started on this controversy about ghosts. Perhaps, there is some connection between Indian music, devotion to God, superstition, and ghosts! For, most musicians I have known, are past masters at narrating fanciful tales about music in a thrilling fashion: when Barkhtullah Khan started playing Rag Deepak on the sitar, the king’s throne caught fire; when Karim Khan sang Rag Malhar, it started raining creating a deluge; when Allauddin Khan started playing Rag Athana on his sarod, the instrument itself exploded. There was no end to these concocted stories As a result, rather than kindling our passion for music, the stories inflamed our curiosity about ghosts and spirits, making us spend time investigating ghosts – something entirely unrelated to our education – on a moonless night in the graveyard on the town’s outskirts.
-2-
When we came inside the town, the Gurkha who was on his beat growled at us in Hindi, “Who’s that?” As we came nearer, we could see the shift in our ways of thinking and feeling. Coming back from the solemn world of the dead in the graveyard to the familiar, confused world of the living, our intellectual sharpness seemed to reassert itself. In order to show that we were undaunted inside the graveyard, we spoke about ghosts. With utter disdain. We were keen to prove that “Ghosts do exist, in one sense; but we were the sort who couldn’t care less about them.” This seemed to be our overall stance.
Shah said, “Look, ghosts exist. But not in the graveyard.”
“Are you saying that they live in towns?”
“Not even there.”
“Where else, then?”
“Inside our heads.”
“What is inside our head is the brain.”
“Correct. Ghosts live in our mind. I discovered it just the other day. I was riding the cycle all by myself in the night. Around ten o’clock. The wind was swishing through the row of sal trees..
A thought crossed my mind from nowhere. What if a ghost were sitting on the back seat of my bicycle? Much as I resisted that notion, I couldn’t escape its stranglehold. Parting the top of my skull, the ghost stepped out in no time! I could feel the weight of something sitting on the back seat. It adjusted its weight on the carrier upsetting my balance on the bicycle. I was afraid to look back. What would I do if it was still sitting there? Without as much as a glance backward, I peddled hard, sweat pouring down, as though I was going uphill with that wretched, hefty hulk of a ghost at my back. Seeing me unfazed in the face of its antics and its weight, do you know what that ghost did? It started tickling me from the back while I peddled along hard and perspired heavily. See, how a ghost can harass ou! This was getting to be a bit much for me. Tell me, how canI possibly ride the bike when I am being tickled from the back. I braked and jumped off the bike.” Shah related his nightmarish experience.
“What did the ghost do then?”
“Where was the ghost?! It disappeared inside my head again. Having had enough, I just pushed the bike along. If I’d started to ride, it’d surely have come out again.”
Shah made me really tense with his graphic description of the immense potential of the mental power of human mind. I remember how one night, as I stood before the mirror, I had wondered : What if my reflected image were to smile when I myself hadn’t? ! Terrified that my image might laugh any moment, I had moved away from the mirror. Shah, I felt, was right in a way.
We trudged along in the direction of the town. The streets seemed endless; and the route didn’t seem to get any shorter. The night also seemed to stretch endlessly, as if dawn would never arrive. The dim light of the street lamps were the sole symbol of some courage. The houses were quiet all around. . Maybe everyone was busy dreaming! Or was it me who was having a dream! Empty streets, noiseless houses, trees with dishevelled crown? Which was really the dream?
As we walked, our shadows from the street lights danced grotesquely on the wall, now lying flat on the street, now standing upright on the wall; swiftly climbing up the tree one minute and down the next. As we watched our own shadows, we noticed another shadow, a very small one, following us.
“Arre, what is this, now?” We both turned back. A tiny, stray pup with sores all over…
Seeing us, it wagged its tail amiably, shaking its body. A small cloud of ash came forth from it and disappeared into thin air.
“Isn’t it the pup that was sleeping on the pyre in the graveyard?” asked Shah.
“Beat it now …” Trying to chase it away, I bent down, feigning to pick up a stone. The pup bolted and vanished in the darkness.
“When did this pup start following us!” wondered Shah. Since both of us had seen it, we were certain that it was not a figment of our imagination.
“This is what young boys do, the cheap bastards… These pups look cute when they are small. So the boys keep them for a while. But when they get scabs or sores, they throw them out of their homes. The dogs then turn stray and roam the streets.” Shah then cursed the pup’s previous master.
We walked on, chatting. We still had the feeling that we were being followed. At a turning, when we looked back, we found the puppy right at our feet!
“It’s probably named Tommy or Tiger. Let’s call out its name and shoo it, and it’ll go away,” I said.
“It’s neither Tommy nor Tiger. Its name is Death, saavu, mrithyu. That’s why it was there in the graveyard. We’re committing a blunder in bringing it into the town,” said Shah.
“All that aside, this stupid thing has now latched on to us, you see.”
“When Dharmaraya started on his last journey to heaven, a sick dog is said to have followed him. This must be its progeny.”
It didn’t feel right to me that Shah was standing on this deserted road cracking ominous jokes in the dead of night. Enough of this wretched pup, I decided, and dumped it inside the garbage bin under a lamp post nearby. We quickened our pace and then looked back to see whether it was trailing us again. Yelping, the pup was trying to climb out of the bin. To escape from the pup, we ran until the post office panting. Taking a breather, we looked back. There it was… five lamp posts behind, running towards us! We felt there was no way we could either chase it away or escape from it ourselves.
“We should never have gone to the graveyard. All I want is to be rid of this pest,” I grumbled.
“I wonder if the ghost had taken the form of this scabby pup and lay on the pyre,” said Shah.
“Save all that symbolism for your modernist stories. This is neither Death nor a Ghost. It is just a pup. It needs a master who can feed it; this is why it is following us. Let’s try and get rid of it. Look at its snout. Who would say it’s a pup? It really looks like a cunning fox… must be a cross between a dog and a fox.” I muttered, venting out my frustration.
“Wait a second, I have an idea,” said Shah, trying to catch hold of the pup. Lest we put it back in the garbage bin, the pup ran off. But as we walked on, there it was behind us again. When Shah tried to catch it, it bolted again.
Tired from his exertions, Shah ranted, “Look, there cannot be any doubt that this is Death itself… it is sure to be that ghost from the graveyard. Take it from me: as it is risky to appear as a young woman before us, it has taken on the guise of a scabby dog.”
Shah gave up on catching the pup. Now he tried to cajole it by snapping his fingers. Fooled by his feigned affection, the pup came closer. In the wink of an eye, Shah seized it, lifted it up by the scruff of its neck, and carried it to a house nearby. It was the only house in the vicinity to have a compound wall. Shah slipped the pup inside the compound without a sound, and walked back, his hands free. Finally rid of the pup, we felt light. We were also thrilled that we had successfully palmed off the pest to someone else.
We had hardly taken a few steps, when the pup started yelping kayku…kayku rhythmically. Someone from inside the house, in a voice heavy and groggy, tried to shoo it away, “Ae, hachaa…” We moved further away, and hid in the darkness, eager to see what would happen next. The pup continued with its chant … kayku…kayku, kayku…kayku…. The lights came on in the house. A dark man, hairy as a bear, came out reeling in sleep, picked up the puppy yelping near the door, and flung it out like dirt, and went back inside as abruptly.
The lights went off. The pup scampered towards us, wagging its tail. Shah and I exchanged looks.
“Who is he, I say?” I said, irritably.
“A messenger from Yama, the lord of Death. But wait. Watch the fun now.” Shah carried the pup, dropped it inside the compound again, and rushed back.
The same gruff roar. The man came out and again threw the pup out. He went inside only to return again to leave the gate open. He must have wished that his house, like his neighbours’, did not have a compound wall.
The pup came back to us bounding.
“This IS Death … this is surely a ghost. Do you see it at least now?” said Shah. And he caught hold of the pup again and made his way towards the same house. Shutting the gate that had been left open, he then eased the pup inside the compound, before dashing for cover.
This time, I really felt alarmed. Why is this Shah, a soft-hearted, fun-loving man during the day, engaged in such cruel pranks at night! But my curiosity about what would happen next kept me there, as though I was under a spell.
Again, the puppy noises started. This time, the Bear-man must have completely lost his patience… he emerged kicking all the doors inside noisily. When we saw him come out of the house with a club, we started quaking in fright, our knees giving way. Seeing him striding out of the closed gate with club in hand, determined to take charge of the situation, the pup that had hidden itself somewhere , slinked away, a shadow among shadows, and took refuge between our feet. The Bear-man inspected the surroundings of the house swinging his formidable stick. All I wanted at that moment was to see him go back into the house. But he stood near the gate, puzzled. May be, he too suspected that this was a prank played by the ghost!
It was evident that he was in doubt. He seemed unwilling to believe in ghosts, but he suspected that some weird mischief was going on. He shut the gate but didn’t go back inside; instead, he stood there waiting, his head resting on the gate.
‘Death’ stood near us, wagging its tail – a dark presence one with darkness. We couldn’t afford to move one bit. The slightest move could help the Bear-man find us and beat us to a pulp. We stood still in the shadows like corpses sealed inside tombs. But how long could we stand there? What if the Bear-man was prepared to stand and wait until daybreak!
“It was all your doing! See where you’ve landed us,” I cursed Shah, under my breath.
“How am I responsible? All this trouble is because of this ghost. Didn’t you ask me to somehow get rid of it?! Have some patience. How long can he possibly wait? He will be sleepy sooner or later” replied Shah.
We stood still at the same spot, hoping that the Bear, with a dhoti wrapped around him, would go inside the house. The man stood there unmoving for a long time. Why not we beat it even as he stands there, I wondered for a second. But what if the Bear-man could outrun us?! One whack from his stick was enough to dispatch us back to the graveyard we had left behind.
It was strange that he should have stood there for so long, against the gate without as much as a wiggle. Now, Shah grew suspicious.
“He has fallen asleep right there. How can a human being possibly stand in that posture for this long?” he said.
I didn’t know how to deal with all this. My legs were beginning to protest. May be, the pup also grew tired, or perhaps it preferred the Bear-man to us, or it wanted to offer him a clue to our stealthy presence, it started moving toward him. We got so nervous we didn’t know whether to stand still or flee from there. We stood there imagining guessing that how the Bear-man would send the pup packing to the World of Yama with a single blow from his stick. The pup now stood in front of him. No movement could be seen in his body that seemed to be in deep sleep. Then his stick slipped from his hands and fell on the stone with a sound. Pushing the gate suddenly open, his body lurched forward falling flat on the stone slabs in front with a thud. ‘Death’ went past him into the house without a care.
Had he fallen asleep? Had he fainted? Or had he actually died?
We had to get away before others emerged from the house to shoo away the pup and discovered his body, before that ghost from the graveyard came chasing after us, and before the day dawned.
Darting out of the darkness, we ran for our lives as though we were terrified of death.
