OurWord

Girish stepped out of the bus gingerly, avoiding the puddle caused by  intermittent rain in the city.

Girish lived in Teghoria, a suburb of Kolkata.

It was past nine in the evening. Girish cursed himself for not carrying an umbrella. All these days, he carried an umbrella, and there was not a drop of rain. His pace of walking was being hampered by the puddles on the sidewalk of the road.

It had been a long day at work. Girish was longing for a shower and dinner cooked by his mother. Thank God for mothers, he thought.

Girish could see the silhouette of the complex he lived in with his parents. Girish could also see the Goomtee (cubicle) where the night guard would sit.

It was reassuring to have a night guard. Especially in Teghoria, Girish thought.

Teghoria was sparsely populated. There were buildings coming up, but the suburb still had a rural feel about it.  Girish had seen snakes around the complex. One could hear the Jackals howling at times. We humans have taken over their habitat. Girish mused as he negotiated the pools of water. The municipal had been economical about providing street lights. Well lit roads anyway are rare in our country. Girish reasoned to himself.

Girish negotiated a puddle and looked up. There was this short lady in white walking towards him, or was she?

She whizzed past Girish in a blur.

“Wow, she is in a hurry. Maybe the lady was rushing to catch the last bus.” Girish spoke out loud.

He looked back. The lady was nowhere to be seen. Girish was not surprised considering the pace she had been walking.

Girish was happy to see Bholaram the night watchman sitting inside the cubicle waiting out the rain.

Girish acknowledged the guard’s greetings.

Bholaram stopped Girish and said in a soft tone.  “Girish sir, did you see that lady walk past you. She comes down that tree every night and walks in that direction.”

” She is a churail.”

Churails are female entities usually associated with evil spirits residing on trees.

Girish all these years had never noticed this tree. The tree now looked ominous. It had dense foliage.  How many times he must have walked under it? Girish wondered.

Perfect for the churails to sit on the branches unnoticed sneer at the people walking past.

It was such a close encounter for him. What if she had chosen to show her face to him with an expression that would have sent a chill down his spine.

The chill actually was down his spine as he walked an Olympic walk to his flat. The lady, no the Churail, would have been proud of his pace.

The next morning, at the breakfast table, Girish  asked his father about the dilapidated building not far from their complex. Girish noticed construction activity there.

Girish’s father looked up from his newspaper and informed Girish that the building used to be a mental hospital  many years ago. It was abandoned because by many unexplained deaths. A builder has acquired it now with plans to develop it into a gated community.

Girish mentioned Bholaram sipping coffee. Girish was hesitant to speak about his encounter with the lady and what Bholaram told him.

Girish’s father looked up again. He said, ” Girish, you have been so out of touch. Bholaram, I have been informed had gone on leave to visit his family in Bihar. He has not come back for unknown reasons. Unconfirmed news is that Bholaram passed  away. The managing committee is now desperately looking for a watchman for our complex.”

The coffee spluttered onto his clothes. Girish rushed to the bathroom to wash the coffee marks. His parents rolled their eyes at their child’s clumsiness.

” The coffee must have gone down his windpipe.” Girish’s mother said sympathetically.

Girish looked out of the window at the tree, and the goomtee.

Girish was thinking about tomorrow when he comes back from work.

Word of the day: Foreboding means Apprehensive