Jyotsna and the ghost of the lost traveler

It was three thirty in the evening when Jyotsna and Anwar went back. They sneaked through their secret tunnel (they called it a tunnel for want of a better word) and tiptoed to the classroom. It was empty except Jyotsna’s bag and Anwar’s slate on the teacher’s desk. Someone might have put it there.“I won’t go home”, Anwar said.“Where will you go then?” Jyotsna’s interest peaked.Anwar just looked at her and shrugged his shoulder, “Abba will kill me if he finds out what I did. But you don’t go telling him anything”“I won’t” she pouted.“Swear it! Or I’ll tell about your diary!”“I swear I won’t tell” She stormed out of the class leaving him behind. The diary was a secret she had entrusted Anwar with! She couldn’t imagine he would use it to his advantage. It was a crime! She thought. While she walked out of the

Jyotsna was shaken awake by her mother early the next morning. “Wake up”, she said, “school starts in twenty minutes”. Jyotsna sat up and stretched her arms, yawning loudly. A dull ache throbbed her head as she slipped down the bed and looked around, struggling not to jump down the soft mattress and snore away in peace. Her brown school tunic and white shirt was neatly laid over a chair and a lunch box wrapped in newspaper was on her study table, courtesy of her mother. She peered out the window. An already bright sun was shining over the lawn, reflecting on the pearl shaped morning dew. She squinted towards the forest he and Anwar had traversed last night and a strange chill engulfed her. Her head throbbed mightily and for an instant, she felt like going back to sleep.  But then the faint aroma of incense sticks and the sound of prayer bell filled her with hope. She clenched her fist and got dressed for school. She met Anwar inside the class, neatly dressed, hairs stic

The next few days, students were escorted to their classes and a strict vigilance was maintained in the school. Fire sir could be found standing beside the assembly hall staring menacingly at students roaming around the front door. The corridors went deserted except for the file of students being escorted to science labs or library. Any laughter in the school stifled soon and sounded unnatural. Jyotsna, Anwar, Etan and Brojen found themselves sticking together, like sort of a team. The three boys endlessly discussed the ghost legend and kept asking Anwar to recount his experience. Meanwhile, Mahadev had gathered a gang around himself. Ruben and Bani, thick necked and curly haired, roared with laughter whenever he did a ridiculous impression of Anwar trapped in the jungle with the ‘bhulo’. “Hey, Anwar!” shirked Piu, a slim little brown girl, “I’ve heard you are friends with the floating heads?” “Ignore them” hissed Jyotsna as they jumped down the tables and sat on the

Mr. Nandy kept marching forward holding Mahadev’s hand followed by the four huddled together. Jyotsna was suddenly aware of all the sounds around her. The crackling of a twig, the crushing of the leaves under their feet and the insects buzzing around in the distance. But there was something else that took her thoughts astray. A low persistent hum, like the scraping of stones with a stone cutter or a hand drill. Like metal on rock. They walked in silence for a minute. Then Anwar spoke, “When I saw ‘IT’, It felt like a gigantic dragon with huge shiny eyes and sharp jaws.” Mr. Nandy stopped abruptly and the kids rammed into him. He turned around and stared at Anwar. “I am a simple village man and value the lessons taught by our elders enormously. Make it a habit not to trivialize warnings given to you. It has been an unspoken rule in the village to avoid the forest to shorten your travels. And at times when the powers of evil are exalted kids have been known to disappea

It was nearing five thirty and Mr. Sharma was sitting alone in his dingy cabin, staring at the long accounting logs. It was an hour past the usual office hours and he wasn’t sure what he was waiting for. He had read and reread the logs, double checking every single entry for its legal sanctity. Everything added up and yet there was this unmistakable entry, like a small splinter in your nails that hurts a lot but doesn’t come out. Every month a huge sum of money was credited from a small time vendor that didn’t match with any purchase, sales or tax entry. He cursed his fate for opening the unsolicited envelope he received anonymously. Curiosity had gotten the better of him and curiosity killed the cat! Now he was stuck with these logs and the cursed knowledge of the unknown source of investment, illegal in all probability. He could burn the papers and forget he had received any such letter and live with the forbidden fruit. His pulse quickened at the very thought of covering up. Why