उनाड

By: pundalik

Mar 17 2010

Category: Abstract, Culture, Religion

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Would you dare to go to cemetery in the night alone? Maybe some people would dare but most wouldn’t. Its the picture of death that fuels the fear in us.

Find below a short story on fear or worse, death!

Today’s Picture info

• Place: Camel’s Back Road, Mussorrie, Uttarakhand, India
• Date: 21 September 2009
• Camera: Nikon D50
• Lens: Nikkor 18-200 mm
• Focal Length: 29.0 mm
• Aperture: f/4.2
• Exposure Time: 1/60
• ISO: 800

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A Short Story – She can See

She always sensed these things. She knew. I mean how many people can see those things. Really! Actually see things? Things which are unnatural. Things that I cannot even imagine to see. She said she saw them. I just thought them to be the figment of her imagination. She said, she could see dead people. Yes, the same way the little boy in “The Sixth Sense” can see. I had laughed when I saw the movie with her. She didn’t find it amusing. Sometimes she scared me. She really did.

It all started before we were married. Actually long before we were married. She says she first started seeing dead people when she was just a child. She saw this old woman in an empty house in her building and nobody had been living in the house for five years. But you know how imaginative children can be. How children love to tell stories. Surely ghost don’t reside in buildings. Not in a city atleast. They reside in huge mansions and faraway places but not in apartments in real cities. She said she described the lady to her mother and her mother says it fits the description of the lady who lived there five years ago. She was warned not to go near the house. She almost never did.

After a gap of some years, she started seeing them again in her teens. She saw a dead king in the old forgotten fort near her village. Yes! With all his jewels and costume. I thought that she imagined him. Actually, it could have been anyone. Someone from the theatre group in the village. Someone who likes to wear those heavy clothes and all those jewels on a hot summer afternoon. Or it could be just a mirage. But a mirage cannot be seen in a room at a distance of almost 9-10 feet. She had a point. But then teenagers like to be a center of attraction.

Then she kept seeing them. I mean dead people. She became bolder. She was not afraid of them. She rather became used to them. When her father died, she was devastated. She could hear him. The sound of bells came from the pooja room early mornings. The same way they use to be when her father was alive. The same time when her father used to perform pooja and the same way he use to ring the bells. She had searched if her mother was performing pooja. But her mother was sound asleep in her bed. She and only she heard the bells. When I heard the story, I freaked out. My father-in-law, a ghost? I never stayed in that house in the night. I didn’t believed her. She may be imagining things but I didn’t want to take chances.

2 years back we got married. It was an arranged marriage. We went to Matheran for our honeymoon. The second night she shook me from my sleep. It was 3:00 in the night. She said, she saw a woman combing her hair in front of the dressing table. There was no one on the dressing table. I guess she had a nightmare. The next day we enquired about the room. The answer from the Manager made me leave the hotel that very day. 5 years back a couple was living in the same room. The wife committed suicide in this room. The last she was seen by the room service person was when she was combing her hair in front of the dressing table.

That was the first time I had known about her gift. Gift? It was more of a curse. She told me about the different times when she had seen dead people. I wondered if she was insane or just telling me story to gain attention. Lets not call her insane, there’s a better word for it called mentally unstable. But she behaved normally most of the time. Nothing out of the ordinary. Slowly we settled into our married life. I somehow felt comfortable with her stories of dead people. I didn’t believe her. I talked to her mother. She didn’t believe her either. It seems that she was telling the stories from childhood. I stopped believing her. But some of her imagination was so close to reality that I had doubts. But then it could be coincidence.

Like once when she told me that she saw our next-door neighbor had come back from her vacation. It was impossible because she had gone a day earlier and that too 2000 kilometers from our city. The next day her body was flown to her home where she suffered a heart attack while holidaying. Had she come back to visit her house once for the last time?

But I thought these were just coincidences. Coincidences that occurred so many times, that they ceased to be called coincidences. Every time the coincidences were related to dead people.

Today after 2 years, I believe her. In spite of me not believing her all these years, I am today forced to believe her. I am sitting on my chair. Chair that is kept at the end of the room. On the very chair I used to sit every day after office and to write and worked on the laptop. She is looking at me. She is looking at me and knows that I am there. Is it fear in her eyes? Yes! It certainly is fear. Shouldn’t it be love in her eyes? Shouldn’t she be looking at the man she loves so much that she would kill for him. The man who is sitting next to her – her husband, actually her second husband. While me, her first husband who she readily killed and made it appear like suicide is sitting just opposite to her, watching her. She is looking at me. She is looking at her first husband who she pushed herself from the very room she is sitting in. I smile at her and myself. I would be staying here for a long time. She has to see me for a long time even if she does not like it. I smile again

I told you. She always sensed these things. She always saw dead people. Don’t you believe her now?

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The story is based on many spooky stories I have heard from my friends where someone who is known to someone who is known to someone who is known to someone who is known to my friends had seen “somethings”