I was getting late for work. All hassled up, I go to my dresser.
Searching for my comb, I bend down.
When I straighten up again, what I see in the mirror is astounding.
It is my own reflection, but it seems different somehow.
Just as I am trying to figure out the difference, this little one comes and hugs me from behind.
“Didi (older sister), can you make me some bournvita? I am hungry.”
I rush to the kitchen and make him a mug full of bournvita.
He drinks it, relishing.
And I wake up.
I haven’t seen him since.
It is not always a she.
My door slowly opened, in the middle of the night.
With silent footsteps she entered and looked at me.
Her face was funny, much different than what I remember,
Her eyes showed sorrow, her nose was crooked and now she stooped.
Walking in sloppily, she laughed.
Her hand raised towards me, she said,
“I have come to take you with me, come. Lets go.”
“My time hasn’t come yet. You go ahead, I will join you when its the right time.”
She leaped towards me with such a speed that I woke up with a start.
She hasn’t visited me again.
It was winter, I had to pee.
3 am. My bladder was blasting.
I had to, had to go.
So, I got up.
The position of the restroom in my house is such that you could see my grandmother’s bed. Head to toe.
And I have a bad habit of looking around.
And so I was peeping around, and then I saw,
She was standing there, at the head end of my grandmother’s bed.
Looking down upon her.
At first I thought I was half asleep so I was seeing things.
I decided to empty my bladder.
When I was out, I peeped again.
She was still there.
A dark, slender, feminine shadow.
I went back to my room, my neck was tickling.
I didn’t look back again.
It had been just a year in the hostel.
I was in my room with two other friends.
It was winter.
The door was shut and the windows were closed.
The fan was running at minimalistic speed.
My bed was in the middle.
I don’t know what time it was, but something surely whispered in my ears.
I woke up with a start and I was shouting “Mumma, mumma”
My roommates woke up too.
I saw around, there was no one but the three of us in our respective beds, which were far away for someone to play a prank on me.
Hostel days are fun, till funny incidences happen.
Me, and a friend of mine had rented an apartment during our internship programme.
It had been ages since we had watched any horror movies. Scary stuff was not on my mind.
My friend was working the night that day.
I was in bed, ready to sleep.
I switched my night lamp on and turned off the tube light and got into bed.
After a while, the bulb of the lamp broke. Pure darkness surrounded me.
Next morning, I got a new bulb.
That night, it blasted again.
This happened thrice.
Some problem with the circuit, I suppose.
The bulb finally settled down.
And I fell asleep quite easily that night.
The door of my room had a latch on the outside. It was sometime past midnight, I think, that latch was banged very loudly against the door.
I woke up. And I could sleep the whole night. I thought it was my friend messing with me.
I confronted her the next day.
She said, it wasn’t her.
Again, it was a mid summer afternoon and I was travelling home from work.
I was waiting at the railway station for my train to arrive. There was no one else with me to board the train. I got in my compartment and was looking for a place to sit. t was all empty, so I had ample of choices.
And then, my head turned left. There she was. Sitting at the window and smiling at me.
Her eyes we jet black like coal.
Her face was white as milk.
Her lips we blood red.
Her hair all messed up.
And she was staring at me. A daunting stare. It was pulling me towards her.
I don’t know why but I turned left, I sat next to her.
It is an old myth that ghosts have inverted feet, so I tried to glimpse of her feet. But they were covered, with her sari.
I avoided her gaze all the way, and I prayed that someone else please board the train.
But no one did. For two long stations, no one did. Neither in my compartment, nor in the adjacent ones.
Finally, she stood up and walked towards the doors. And she turned around, looked at me again with a wicked smile on her face. My heart raced at a speed of 200beats/minute.
The trained stopped at the station. The third station. She got off.
2 other people got in.
It was a mid summer afternoon, sunny, I clearly remember.
I was sitting in my room, studying, for my exams were nearing.
As I prefer studying in natural light, I had opened up the windows. Also, I kept the door open, ventilation was needed.
It was a complete dry spell. No wind at all, not a single leaf moved.
In the midst of my wandering through the pages, my door creaked a little, and then shut with a snap.
A door shutting with a snap on a day without wind, got me wondering.
I didn’t bother at first, but I couldn’t concentrate later.
And so I tried to experiment. I said,
“You shut my door, but I like it open, could you please open it for me?”
And it opened, little at first and then completely.
Trust me, I couldn’t study for days.
Have you ever wondered why do you dream?
What are these dreams?
Story from a different lifetime? Future events? Or a mind game?
A conscious effort? Or a subconscious picture?
It is said that you dream what you think, but many a times we don’t dream what we think. In fact, we dreams of things we have never thought about.
But is that true? Are we sure that we have never thought about that particular event?
Our subconscious is a tenacious bundle of chords. Its stores a lot, a lot of things, things that we have no clue about.
Heard about the term Deja vu?
Where does that feeling come from? The Subconscious.
The harsh reality of the past that lives deep within beyond the reach of you and me.
I came across this blog written almost a year ago, I suggest all of you to read it.
Here is the link.
To the author,
I was sincerely touched by your post. It took me ten years back in time, in 2006, when I was sitting with my parents and making a decision for life. It reminds of how my mother told me that I should take up commerce and not science, but 15 as I was, so adamant, I took up science because I wanted to be a doctor. My parents are very supportive, they supported me through out and today I am a doctor and am current pursuing post graduation.
As kids doing graduation, we aren’t much aware of the crisis around us.
The first time I got a glimpse of reality was during my internship when I was posted in that casualty and a man walked in with a knife.
Similarly, I became aware of how patients relatives lie when they want to hide their mistakes and put the blame on the treating physician. i.e. they bought a dead girl, said she has been unconscious after she fell of the swing, the doctor has to save her life, and then we saw a ligature mark on her neck.
I was baffled when my own friend was assaulted by a patient’s relative during his night shift, in the first week of post graduation. That has seriously left a mark on him as well as the people who know him.
I am very much in agreement with you that I shall not let my child become a doctor in India, just like my mother had a said some 10 years ago.
I don’t want to say it, but I got into this profession to help people, now I look at myself asking for help. And somewhere deep down I do regret not listening to my mother. I wish my child listens to me.
Thank you for writing this blog.
Dr. Maheshi Chhaya.