The life underneath

The car made a grunting sound which echoed across the ravine. It was struggling on the steep road like a half dead animal. Finally it came to halt. Himesh had to apply hand brakes to stop the car from rolling backward. It was not as dark as other days. The monsoon clouds of July were reflecting some light but that made things worse. In such a dim light you can’t see anything, nor can you avoid seeing things which aren’t there.

He knew it all. So he remained in the car. Anxiously looking at watch which showed that there were still 10 hours to go before any sign of life showed up in that barren hill. But there was no option. He smoked his Four Square, alert to sounds outside. Hour after hour passed. The matchbox was moist. As he tried desperately to light his last cigarette, it refused to cooperate. He was annoyed at his luck. He wondered if somehow he can turn the car around he can go down hill without any power. That was risky but worth trying. But there wasn’t any way to turn the car around. He dozed on the steering wheel.

When he woke up in the middle of the night, it took him a full minute to realize where he was and how he got there. He came out of the car and stretched. He was not that afraid. He longed for a tea badly. He walked up a little and came to a spot from where he could see the road crawling up the hill like a snake. Suddenly his eyes caught sight of flickering flames. It looked far away. There was a small river some five hundred feet below the road. He wasn’t sure if the fire was on the same side of river as he is or he will have to cross the river. He decided to go down the narrow footpath and inspect it.

Every ten step of so he would look at the fire. From one place it would seem across the river and from other place it looked as if it was on the same side. Finally he reached the plain stretch of land leading to the river. There, as if out of nowhere, was a shop. A bonfire lit in the front, with an old man sitting in front.

“Aa go chaaa”
“yes”..He was little taken aback. As far as he knew, the sentence in Kumaoni means “So you came”. As if the old man was waiting for him. In Kumaoni it is also used as to initiate the small talk after meeting.
“Its quite cold..” Old man said..
“yes..I was drawn by the fire”
“It has rained continuously for weeks..Only today it stopped”
“is it?” He was surprised because 20 km down the hill there hasn’t been any rains this season.
“yes, the river almost gobbled up my shop”
“oh”
“and the entire hill came tumbling down”
“where”
“from there to here” He indicated to the hill.
“Is the road open?”. Many times he had seen the road closed due to landslides.
“Yes, The road is open..now”
He took a sigh of relief.

“Is there a mechanic shop nearby”
“mechanic?”
“to repair the car”
“car?” The old man seemed to be living in some bygone era. He gave up and thought “lets wait for the morning”

“You want some tea?” The old man asked.
“That would be great but..”
“Bholaa” the old man shouted
“No..Don’t wake anyone, its late night”
“No one sleeps out here” The old man said.

Before he could understand what he said a small child came out. He must be nine or ten.
“How many”. Bhola asked
“How many people do you see here?” The old man quipped.
“Two if I count you”
“So you do..and put little less sugar. Sahib has come from far away”

“You keep the shop open in the night?”
“Yes”
“But who would come in the night?”
“Sometime people do…like you”
“hmm..but why haven’t you put up the shop by the roadside”
“It was there but it came down”
“Came down?”
“I told you that there was a landslide”
“You said it happened last week”
“Yes it did”
“The shop looks as if it stood here for years”
“Yes it has stood here for years”

Bhola had brought tea, in a full steel glass. Himesh thought wow. It will dissolve all the bad luck that had followed him tonight. Both the man sipped tea silently.

“It has warmed me from inside” Himesh said
“yes..rum would be even better” The old man replied
“yes sure”..he laughed
“Do you get it here?”
“what?”
“scotch..rum anything..”
“This is Biir Bhatti. This place which supplies to entire region”
“Oh”
“Bholaa, can you take Saab to the wine shop?”
“Its just next door..he can go there alone” Bhola curtly replied.
“No I don’t need it. I was just asking” Himesh didn’t want to trouble the child at the night.
“but I need it” Old man said.
“Ok, I’ll bring a bottle..Show me where it is”

The old man indicated the footpath going upstream. This place was not as dark. He went along in quick steps. The entire hill side touched the river in a smooth slope. There was almost no flat surface here. As he walked he kept looking for the shop but there wasn’t anything there.

“Is anyone there?” he shouted. Little scared now.
“Come in” A voice replied.
“Where are you”
“Wait I’ll get you”

He was shocked for a moment when a man emerged from the ground below, raising a wooden plank. Before he could decide to run away, the endearing smile of the villager was welcoming him.


“It all got buried in landslide”
“Oh..Thats unfortunate..did anyone got hurt?” Himesh asked showing sympathy.
“No one escaped unhurt” said the villager, quickly descending the stair under the wooden plank.

The stairs led to a dark room lit up with a candle. He had difficulty going down the stairs but once inside he felt really cozy. The place was unkempt. On the table was a big candle which looked as if it was lit up just now. The roof went down in an incline and ended up with a small window at the grown level. You could see the river from the window.

“So. What you like Sir”
“Anything..can’t be choosy at such a time? Scotch..rum anything”
“You like vintage scotch?”
“sure if it isn’t too expensive. How old?”
“Hundred year”
He looked around the dingy place and wondered what the hell a hundred year old vintage scotch doing here. The villager kept rummaging around in the racks, thong broken bottles here and there.

“Sir, hope you don’t mind, this place is a mess and hasn’t been touched for ages”
“No..its ok. Its kind of nice experience”

Finally he brought a bottle and cleaned it with a dirty rug. He looked at the label and was shocked to see the odd looking bottle made from olive-green glass. The liquid inside appeared to be pale gold. It was filled almost to the neck. The label read

***Glenavon ***

Special Liqueur Whisky Bottled by the Distillers

It was bottled in 1878.

He was shocked. He wasn’t interested in drinking it. Is was a collector’s item. Besides, the whisky is matured in casks not in the bottle. It may not be drinkable anyway. The poor villager, he wouldn’t know. Himesh smiled and asked the price.

“Take it Sir, its yours”
“No you must take something”. He reached for his purse and took a twenty ruppee note and handed it over.
The villager kept looking at the note as if he is seeing it for the first time.
Himesh felt uneasy at his reaction. He thought he had grossly underpaid the villager for a rare collector’s item and he said
“You want more. Tell me how much you want?”
“No Sir, what would I do with money”
“Then keep it as a gift”
Reassured the villager kept the note inside.

“…and do you have some regular whiskey.” Now he wanted his Mcdowell’ s. Enough of vintage whiskeys.
“No Sir, I’ve only old stock and some country liquor”
“Ok”

He pressed the bottle between his arm and body and climbed the stairs, carefully avoiding bumping his head. When he reached the shop the old man was sitting exactly as he had left him. The bon fire burned with same ferocity.

“So what did you bring?”
“That place don’t have a thing. All hundred year old items. Tell me how did they get this?”
“Its all British stuff”
“Oh..”
“He makes good country liquor though. I prefer that”
“never tasted it”
“I never tasted English liquor either. Show me”

The old man looked at the bottle from all side. Then he looked at the fire through the bottle and smiled. His face had such an innocence.
“Bhola, bring two glasses..” the old man called out.
“I’ll go don’t wake him up”
“no you sit here..I told you he doesn’t sleep”
Himesh was feeling sad for the kid but he promptly bought tow steel glasses.
“No..not these. Bring other ones” the old man said.
“You should tell me upfront. How would I know which ones” The boy kept mumbling as he went back.

Finally the old man got the glasses he wanted. Himesh was still not sure if they can actually drink that liquor. It was kept too long in a bottle. Before he could say anything the old man had opened the bottle. He poured a lid full and took it close to his nose.

“Its good” and then he sprinkled the whisky into the fire. The fire lapped it up quickly.
Himesh felt good that he won’t have to drink it but the next instant the old man had poured a glass for him.
“cheers”
“cheers” The thick glass made an odd sound.

Himesh waited for the old man to take first sip. The old man took few sips in quick succession.
“Ah..now this makes me warm” He said
Himesh couldn’t resist the temptation and took his first sip. It wasn’t as bad as he had imagined it to be. In few sips it started tasting like expensive scotch.

“You know when the car broke down I was feeling so afraid that I’ll have to wait till the morning” Himesh said
“The car broke down because you were afraid”
“no. I said I got afraid that the car broke down”
“may be both.” The old man laughed

“Fear..oh fear..we are so afraid of death.. it gets us anyway..waking..sleeping…Look at me..at this age I’ve seen death come and gone. And life keeps lurking around the corner. Waiting to capture me…like it did today”

“I feel so alive too” Himesh too felt philosophical after the first peg. The old man poured second.

“We were sleeping. My sleep gets broken if the sparrow flaps its wings. But that night the whole hill was rumbling. I thought the river will take us but the killer came from above”

Himesh was surprised how quickly he felt tipsy. The flickering bon fire was taking him into a hypnotic state.

“and who said when you depart you can’t take a thing from the world. We carried our dreams locked in our eyes”. The old man continued his scotch inspired monolog.

“And fire? Ha..Ha..even you couldn’t claim us..We were already claimed by the wet sand”. To Himesh , the words seemed far away like the sound of river. As pleasant. As meaningless.

“Get off my chest you lousy stone”
“what happened” Himesh was rocked from his half asleep state.
“haha..You slept.. No one sleeps here” The old man was in boisterous mood.
“Oh sorry..I just dozen off..This stuff is good”..The old man was poured the third glass.
“What do you do?”
“I’m a civil engineer at HMT”
“you are some sort of Sahib”
Himesh just smiled.
“Have you seen the new watch factory at Ranibag. We just finished the construction of the first unit” Himesh tried explaining.

The old man had presumably lost interest and started singing a Kumaoni song. The river gave a nice background music. Sleep reclaimed Himesh.

When he woke up the sun was shining on his eyes. His whole body ached. He felt completely dehydrated. He looked around but there was no one nearby. No fire, no shop, no scotch bottle and no old man. Himesh tried to recollect. “No it can’t be a dream”. He could even remember the path he had come from. He ran up and the car was there. He came down again and the scene was exactly same but there was no one. He walked up the river to the wine shop and there was nothing.

Himesh walked up the river and quenched his thirst. And slowly walked back wondering about last night. Then he thought about the broken down car. “Oh god where would I find a mechanic now?” He was frustrated. The he thought about the old man’s statement “The car broke down because you were afraid”. It made him smile. “Great..now it will start because I feel great”. He slipped into the driving seat. He turned the ignition key and the car started without a problem. After all that he had been thorough it didn’t surprise him.

Next month for doing the ground stability analysis, he got the reports about that region. Carelessly browsing through the report he chanced upon a report on landslide in Biirbhatti during colonial rule in 1880. For some reason the scientific report both excited and frightened him.

On the fateful night there were heavy rains and the rainfall record shows that the precipitation (211.83 mm) was almost one tenth of the total rainfall received in the year till that date (2176.01 mm). It was amid this abnormally high precipitation that the landslide initiated at an altitude of around 4500 feet in the upper reaches of the stream. Large number of uprooted trees and boulders apart from the debris came down rumbling along the steep slopes.

The concrete pedestrian bridge to the upstream of the point of diversion provided favorable site for all the material to collect and this material dammed the stream upstream of the axis of the bridge. The bridge could however not withstand the increasing hydrostatic pressure for long and gave way consequently. The gushing water got easy opportunity of ravaging along the straight line path following the abandoned course and eroded the limestone base of the hill with surprising alacrity. At around 3 in the morning the entire hill collapsed on the village down below. The records of the landslide in Macnabb Coll. O&IOC, British Library do not mention the number of causalities but the comment [the fate of the villagers sleeping in their houses was sealed] suggests that all of them died. In the loss of property section there are few entries like the wine godown and country liquor distillery and few tea shops.

“You want some tea” His wife asked.
Himesh wiped sweat from his forehead and meekly said “Yes”

The witch of Paashaan Devi

His fear proved his undoing. As soon he saw the witch he froze, rock solid, like the ice on the pavement. But then the witch saw him. She screamed and ran towards him. The fear galvanized Umesh into action. He ran without even seeing where his foot fell and slipped on the slippery patch of ice on the pavement. He twisted his knee and he was now at the mercy of the witch. He crawled and begged her for his life without even opening his eyes.

But the words fell into deaf ears. There was no one nearby.

The last scene he remembered of that horrible night, was the yellow sari clad women, trying to reach for him, but moving farther with every step. It is said that the feet of a witch are joined backwards at the ankle. He knew it and seeing her going farther didn’t make him feel any better.

The witch of Paashaan Devi had claimed her first victim. Till now, the yellow sari clad witch had only screamed and ran towards people but this was the first time someone got hurt. Umesh was laid outside on a bed in the bright sunny day. He had broken his leg. The entire foot below his knee was swollen. No one looked at the blue wound around the swollen ankle. People were mesmerized by the yellow color on his entire foot. His old mother, was sitting with a blank expression on her face. She was a speech impaired octogenarian but she is so expressive in her body language that you will never fail to understand what she meant. Today she was silent.

There was a crowd outside his house and everybody had bought his own special conspiracy theory. There was no doubt about the role of the witch but there were doubts as to what that yellow color signified. Has he been chosen? Has the witch entered into him? There were as many questions as there were answers. To the simple villagers it occurred only in the evening that taking Umesh to a hospital was also an option. A worthless one but they tried it anyway. Doctor Joshi inspected the wound and referred him for X-Ray. Finally he was admitted Umesh for a fractured leg. Doctor Joshi was annoyed by the crowd lining up his ward. When the crowd asked about the yellow color on his leg Doctor Joshi replied in a matter of fact tone “Turmeric paste.”. This time it was the turn of the crowd to be annoyed.

One more hour got reduced from people’s daily timetables. Now at 5’O Clock the streets would be deserted.

(2)

I was just 7 years old. I was quite afraid of the witch. Probably because I had never met her yet. Probably because I was expecting to meet her. It was inevitable. Every house in the town had two large red hand prints on their walls, except our house. My parents didn’t paint the gerua[a red clay] hand prints which magically kept the witch at bay. My mother didn’t want to spoil the recently painted wall. And my father wasn’t afraid of anything in world except my mother. Every kid in the schools knew that I would be the next target of the witch. That was in the back of my mind.

The inevitable happened. I had gone to the market with my father. At around four I started pestering him.

“Papa..Lets go home!”
“wait..I have to meet him”.

He kept to his normal routine of meeting almost every passer by. I was annoyed. I stopped talking to him and just followed him. Finally at around five he entered the vegetable shop. It was a large shop with a last minute rush that happens just before curfew. I didn’t enter the shop and waited impatiently for my father. The shopkeeper, desperate to close his shop, was fighting with customer. Everyone was anxious to get home before dark. I was distracted.

Suddenly I looked around and my father was not in the shop. I thought that he had left me and gone home so I raced out of the shop. I didn’t find him, so I decided to go home alone. After all it was getting dark and the witch would be on her way.

That was a stupid move. Soon I had lost my way. I climbed the hill but I reached an unfamiliar place. There was no one whom I could ask. I could see China Peak looming ahead of me but that wasn’t enough to figure out where exactly I was standing. The more the time passed, more nervous I got. Finally I descended back to the market. May be my father was searching for me there. When I reached the market it was completely deserted. There was no one there. At last I found “Mausi”, a middle aged widow who had visited our house few times. I didn’t know her well and I had found her pretty weird. But today I had no choice. She seemed to have recognized me. She clasped my hands we started walking together. She didn’t speak a word and words had deserted my mouth.

We took a detour of the market and started climbing up to the familiar road to my house. I initiated the conversation.

“This road leads directly to the home. Isn’t it.”
“yes, it does”
Then we saw a shape down coming toward us. Mausi stopped. She mumbled
“who is he?” I asked. Worried.

She didn’t answer and instead took to the road going down towards Andheri Road, the popular haunt of the witch. The road was favorite place for anyone who committed suicide by drowning in the lake. Naturally it didn’t find favor among the alive population. Sometimes few tourists, unaware of the sinister stories, would venture into that road. They too would report the eerie feeling that place evoked. Paashaan Devi was a old temple located on that road. Once you crossed the temple you reached “Faansi Gadhera”. The place got its name during the rule of British, who hanged several freedom fighters there. The entire route was part of the kingdom of dead.

But for now, I was sure that the witch coming down towards us from the main road. So it made sense to take a detour to Andheri Road. I followed Mausi who almost ran downhill with me. We didn’t look back. Anyways there wasn’t much point in trying to look thorough layer after layer of pitch black darkness. After a while we started walking at normal pace. I don’t know why fear deserted me as soon as I saw the entire expanse of lake besides me. The reflections of light were making candles on the lake surface. We both walked in silent hurried steps. Soon we reached Paashaan Devi temple where the road suddenly rises in a bulge. When we reached “Faansi Gadhera” , we took to the road going back up to complete the detour. No untoward incident happened.

The scene at my home was quite different. My mother and sister were crying. There were many people there. The search and rescue party was readying to meet up the challenge, collecting torches and mashaals and even drums. Someone had called a tantric too. After all you can’t defeat a witch by force of hand. My father had already gone, alone in search.

When he had come out of the shop I had left assuming that he had already left. The assumption had backfired. It didn’t matter anymore. The inevitable had happened. The elder son of Pandeyji had been “abducted” by the witch. Everyone concurred on that point.

I, blissfully unaware of the scene at home, continued my long trek with Mausi. I hoped to reach home soon but I was surprised to hear from Mausi that she was taking me to her home. She said she didn’t know where my home was. I was totally annoyed at her. I thought “Wasn’t she always so weird? Why didn’t she tell me?” I had no option so I requested her. I even faked crying but to no avail.

Mausi’s home was a dilapidated house. An old lady was sleeping there. It seemed like a house of dead. There was no sign of life. The kitchen looked as if no one had prepared food since ages. I was very much uncomfortable and hungry. Mausi didn’t offer me anything and went to sleep. She indicated a bed to me for sleep but I stayed awake by the dim light of a kerosene lamp.

There was no way I could sleep there. I had to do something. I thought that the witch must be down in the market and I can take a chance. I decided to go home but how? I came out to inspect and found that the house stood right above the main road. It was the much too familiar road which lead from my house to the school. I thought I can run back home in five minutes and so I did.

I reached home, running. There was crowd gathered there. As soon as they saw me running towards them they ran in all directions. I was very surprised. Probably they assumed that I was being chased by the witch. She was everywhere.

My mother came out and hugged me so tightly that I almost choked. She was crying.

She asked me “Where did she take you?”
“We went to Andheri road..” I was still out of breath..many people had found courage to come back and stood around me
“..then to Paashaan Devi..” The murmurs around me rose a little
“..and then to Faansi Gadhera..” now their worst fears were confirmed. People were gaping with fear in their eyes
“..and then she took me to her home.”...Climax..
“Home?”
“Yes”....No one knew that the witch had a home..

It never occurred to me that no one knew that I was with Mausi. It never occurred to the crowd that when I said “She” I meant Mausi, not the witch.

I was hungry. I ate as if I haven’t seen food since days. Then I slept. When my father reached home and found me there, I was already half asleep. His kiss on my forehead was the last thing I remember.

That night the witch was not seen or heard in the town. There was enough evidence to implicate the witch for my abduction and the town passed the judgment. Life continued.

I woke up at noon next day and skipped the school. When I reached the school the day after, I was already a celebrity. I had been abducted by the witch and I had miraculously escaped. There were curious eyes all around me. You don’t get too many opportunities to become a hero. I didn’t miss mine. I told them that I fought with the witch and I had broken her skull. The entire class took a punishment when the teacher walked in and all children were lost in my story. The life changed. I was no longer afraid of anything. I had been there, done that..

It was only after two days that my father asked what actually happened. I took him to the house of Mausi. He told me a tragic tale. Her husband had died six month ago. She and her old mother-in-law lived there. He told me that Mausi was mad. I didn’t know what mad meant but the word somehow matched her behavior. My father didn’t tell anyone. He simply didn’t care about all the gossip around the witch.

After almost 2 weeks, the witch sightings were reported again in the Amar Ujala, the local newspaper. The kids had a tough time. Their play life was smothered by over protective parents. I and my brother found it hard to find companions for playing. Those were the tough days for everyone.

(3)

One day a shopkeeper had to finish a repair work. He knew he would be late so he took his Alsation dog with him. When they were coming home, at around six, the dog saw the witch and started barking. The witch screamed and the dog pulled the chain out of shopkeeper’s hand. The dog attacked the witch and she fell down. Moti was a fierce but intelligent male dog, not withstanding his feminine name. After he got the witch down, he waited for the shopkeeper to come but the shopkeeper ran in the opposite direction to his home and closed his door.

After few moments someone scratched the wooden door as if with the sharp claws. The shopkeeper, his wife and son, went to hide in a corner. The witch continued scratching the door, getting impatient with every passing moment. The nine year old son of the shopkeeper didn’t understand what had actually happened. He had waited for hours for his father and his Moti to come back but then he fell asleep, only to be rudely awakened at the middle of the night. Slowly he came back to waking state and said

“Papa its Moti, open the door”..The dog heard the voice and immediately responded with a frustrated bark. The shopkeeper looked at his wife.

“Nooo…wait..Its the witch acting like the dog”. His wife said.

May be she was right. After all Moti would not have survived today. The door screeched as if it will give up any moment. The shopkeeper got up and put table, cot, chair whatever he could find to support the door.

Finally the scratching the door subsided. Then they heard the long wolf like howl which pierced the silence and the spirits alike.

“Oh god, She has possessed our Moti and turned it into wolf.”

The sequence of occasional scratching, frustrated howls and panic continued throughout the night,. The door didn’t open.

The next morning they found the dog almost freezing. He had a piece of blood stained, yellow cloth stuck in his canines. The shopkeeper was too afraid to let him in. After consultation with the elders everyone agreed that the witch had possessed the dog. The dog remained in the corner, reluctantly wagging his tail. Poor dog….He had lost the status of a trusted family dog. Did he know, like everyone else, he could turn into a man eating wolf any night.

He was kicked out of the home. He howled miserably for 3 days, everyone shivered as they heard the sound. Interestingly the witch had disappeared. Now the whole was convinced that she had entered into the dog. It was decided that the dog be killed.

When my father came to know about this plan, he was outraged. It was such a handsome dog. He bought some meat and brought the dog home. Our house was accursed anyways. The next day was the best day of my life. For the first time I had a pet dog. It was so big that it could lick my face without stretching a little bit. The more people saw me and my dog together, the more rumors there were about our queer relation with the witch. We both were under the spell of the witch.

(4)

As always Doctor Joshi was just glancing over the long queue of patients waiting for him. His eyes stuck to the women. He had seen here sitting there almost every day but he doesn’t recollect treating her. Today she was looking very pale. Perhaps it was the yellow color of her sari that made her look so. He asked her if she wanted to be checked. She followed to his room. When the doctor asked questions She remained silent. The doctor was shocked when he checked her pulse. She hadn’t eaten anything since days if not weeks. He took her to the emergency ward and asked the nurse to put a glucose drip in her hand and said he would be back in five minutes

As he went back to his room to look after other patients, it suddenly struck him that he had seen this women. Then he remembered that the she is the widow of the person who had died of jaundice. During a year long treatment she was a familiar face in the hospital. Even after the death of her husband she came to hospital and sat there. It never occurred him to ask her why she came here. Probably he should ask now.

He hurried back to the emergency room. The nurse almost collided with him. As she regained balance she told that the lady has been badly bitten, probably by a dog.

“I wonder if she would survive fourteen shots of anti-rabies.. She is took weak..”
“then what should we do?”
“Clean the wound, do the dressing and pray that the dog lives to see the next year”

The nurse promptly followed the instructions. In the weeks to follow the woman recovered. She was sent for a sanitarium for treatment of hysteria.

As for the witch she was never seen again after the encounter with the dog. For a long time people believed that she was definitely inside either me or my dog. Everyone was so scared of

me that it was fun. I no longer needed a company. I could play almost any game with my dog. I changed his name to “Rocky”.

The dog lived for six more year before he was eaten by a tiger. Later when I roamed the jungles of Jim Corbett park in moonlit nights, the thought of meeting that tiger would cross my mind. Unfortunately, or fortunately, the tiger didn't cross my path. Probably he too was hunted down by the inhabitants of a dog eats dog world.