Pintu's Diary

For past 15 days my City has been buzzing with rumors of attacks by a mysterious shadow. Apparantly, a dark shadow which sometimes assumes the shape of a large black cat attacks people sleeping on the roof or in the open. Things have become so bad that people have fallen off the roof and seriously injured themselves. Nobody sleeps in open anymore. The following is a fictional account of the events through a child's eyes. Please remember that this is a story and in no way true. The events and the eventual explanation exists in author's imagination only.

PINTU'S DIARY

Today was a good day. I spent the entire day on the roof flying kites. I like 15 August. Papa says we gained independence on this day. I like independence. I like kites more. No school today. I got twelve kites. Added to six I had they were eighteen.Three got torn.Seven were cut by other kite flyers. I am still left with eight. I too cut three kites. A good day. Sometimes I wish I had a brother or at least a sister who would hold the Charkhi while I flew kites. Still, sometimes Ramu (my friend) comes over to do it. But he wants to fly kites and I have to hold Charkhi.Lot of pigeons live on roof. A few crows come too. A big Kite (the bird and not the paper one) usually sits on the TATA SKY antenna. Kites eat pigeons. But not this one. It sits there kind of peaceful. Does not do anything the whole day. I like the roof. Nobody disturbs me here. Ma is calling me downstairs. Better go or she will be angry.

*****

I am sad. Someone has been killing pigeons. I often find feathers and spots of blood on roof. The place has become scary. It feels cold in afternoon also. I will not come here. I will not fly kites. I wish I had a big and strong brother.

*****

I have not gone to roof for many days. I have to sit in living room and listen to Ma and aunty talk. All day they talk about Churail only. There is churail in city. She comes in night and attacks people sleeping on roof. Did she kill the pigeons? I will not go to roof alone. But I am bored.

*****

The Tribune

Mystery cat terrorises city

Thursday (Our local correspondent)The city is buzzing with rumors of a Mysterious Shadow which assumes the shape of a wild cat and attacks sleeping people. A number of people claim to have been attacked. A few have shown unexplained scratches on their bodies. One girl was seriously injured when she fell from the roof after an alleged attack by the Mysterious shadow. The district administration has dismissed this as baseless rumor. The SSP when contacted said that he has issued instructions for effective policing in the effected area to restore people’s confidence. The president of local IMA has dismissed the rumors as phenomena of Mass Hysteria. As for the scratches he says they may be self induced.

*****

Pintu’s diary.

We have new neighbors. Actually, they have been here for a month. Aunty visited us today. I don’t like her. She has green eyes. I read in Harry Potter that witches have green eyes. In England the Churails are called witches. She has very red lips and pointed teeth. She asked me why I did not go to roof any more. She said she has often seen me playing on the roof as her window looks out to the roof. I ran to my room and did not come out till she was gone. I told Ma that she was a Churail and Ma laughed at me. Sometimes, grown ups are stupid.

*****

Ramu came today. We went to roof to play. All pigeons are gone. Where? Has kite killed all of them or is it the Churail? New aunty was looking at us from her window. She looked at us and licked her lips like a cat. I am afraid. We will not fly kites anymore.

*****

The Tribune

The cat hysteria continues

Saturday (Our local correpondent)The hysteria in the city about Mystery cat refuses to die down. Increased policing has not helped. There was a near riot in old city when two groups belonging to different communities clashed blaming each other for the menace. The District Magistrate and the SSP have appealed to all residents not to listen to or spread rumors. The City Rationalist Association has decided to start community policing to restore confidence in the populace. Meanwhile the number of people claiming to have been attacked by a large black cat, or a woman with flowing hair or a dark shadow keeps on increasing.

*****

Pintu’s diary.

I am bored as I have nothing to do. I don’t go to roof any more. Papa brought me a portable video game but I am bored with it too. Maybe I’ll go to roof tomorrow.

*****

I will not stay here. I will go to Mama’s House in Faridabad. Now I know who killed the pigeons. I also know who the Churail is. It is the aunty with green eyes. I was so bored in the afternoon that I went to roof alone. Ramu did not come and I don’t have a brother or sister. I was busy playing with Marbles when I felt cold. I felt someone’s eyes on my back. I turned and saw Aunty on her window. Her eyes were greener and lips redder than ever. She licked her lips the way a cat does. Then she smiled and called me. Her teeth were pointed like Dracula. And when she waved at me she had cat’s paws instead of hands. I ran and ran and shut myself in my room. She knows that I know the truth about her. And she will kill me. I will not stay here. But Ma will not believe me. Papa will laugh when I tell him what I saw. So I’ll cry and cry till they are forced to take me to Mama’s house in Faridabad.

THE END

The Long Weekend- a short story ( Part II )

They woke up late the next morning, a rare luxury indeed. ‘How about some trekking. I need some action.’ Sachin said. So after breakfast they set off on the short but steep climb to the Hanuman temple on the top of the hill inside the Air Force Station. This was restricted area but tourists were allowed to trek to the temple, situated on the hilltop also called Manki Point. The climb was far from gentle and they had to stop half-way to catch their breaths. ‘I think this idea of yours has sinister ramifications. You want me to die of exhaustion so you are free to pursue whatever nefarious designs you have’, huffed Anjali. Sachin just smiled as he caught his breath. The climb proved to be well worth the effort. The top of the hill provided panoramic views of the surroundings and they could even see the distant city of Chandigarh. 
The descent proved to be a relatively easy affair. They discovered a Tibetan eatery in the market and did full justice to the offerings of momos and thupka. The weather changed dramatically in the evening as dark clouds gathered and it threatened to rain. It started raining around seven. By eight it was pitch dark, the wind howled and shrieked and the house made ominous creaking noises. The rain lashed the surroundings with unabashed fury and they sat in the small living room in enjoying the unaccustomed sights and sounds. ‘It can’t possibly get worse than this’ said Sachin. 
The moment he said it the lights went out plunging the room in pitch darkness. Using his mobile Sachin hunted up the candles left over from yesterday and lighted them. The candles flickered and spluttered sending out feeble yellow light which cast eerie shadows in the room. And then the hail stones started falling making a loud noise on the tiled roof. There was a louder noise reverberating through the house. ‘Someone is knocking on the main door. Who can it be at this time on night?’ wondered Anjali. ‘Maybe it is the caretaker.’ Sachin said as he moved towards the door. 
He opened the door and peered out in the dark. A young man dressed smartly in jeans and a leather jacket was standing there. He was drenched and drops of water dripped off him. ‘I am sorry to have disturbed you at this time of the night. I live nearby and was caught in the rain. I am used to walking around in the rain but then the damn hailstones started and I had to seek shelter so I thought………..’ ‘Do come in.’ said Sachin as he ushered in the stranger. He was reluctant to admit an unknown man at this time of the night but the fury of the elements left him with no other choice. The young man walked in and sat on a cane chair in the darkest corner of the room. ‘I don’t want to spoil the settee as I am soaked.’ He said as an explanation for his act. Anjali was concerned. ‘Do you want a towel?’ The young man gave a sad smile, ‘Thanks m’am. I am okay. I love the rain and often roam around like this.’ Sachin noted that the man had a deep scar running across his forehead. The young man noticed the glance and said, ‘Mobike accident. I too drove a Bullet like you and the brakes snapped while I was going to Kalka last year. But I am here to tell the tale so that is good enough.’ Seeing the surprised expression on their faces he said. ‘By the way, my name is Robin. I live around here. I saw you driving around in that bike of yours yesterday. I even saw you taking an after dinner walk but did not disturb you. I am a bit of a Bullet fan myself. But you need to be very careful when driving around in the hills, particularly when going downhill.’ Sachin was miffed, ‘I have been driving a bike for many years. I have never had an accident.’ ‘And you should not have one,’ replied the stranger, ‘Just get the brakes checked before starting off on every journey.’ Anjali joined forces with Robin, ‘I did not want to come on a bike. I wanted the car.’ ‘No, no, the pleasure of driving a bike is far more. Just be careful and get the brakes checked.’ By that time the hailstorm had petered out but the wind was still howling in the trees. Sachin thought, ‘what a spooky night. It almost makes you believe in ghosts.’ Robin apparently read his mind. He said, ‘You know, ghosts exist. I know it but please understand that all spirits are not evil. It has stopped raining and I must go. Goodnight and remember to get the brakes checked.’ And with a polite nod he was off. The light came on after a few minutes and Sachin and Anjali did not think much about the matter after that. 
The next morning dawned bright and sunny. Kasauli looked washed and scrubbed and Anjali and Sachin started putting their things together as they neared the end of their brief holiday. As they handed over the keys to the caretaker Sachin asked him, ‘Do you know this fellow Robin?’ The caretaker gave a visible start, ‘Sir, why are you asking me this question?’ Sachin said, ‘we met him yesterday.’ The caretaker paled visibly and asked, ‘who did you meet yesterday and when?’ Sachin said, ‘Robin, The smart young man in jeans and jacket who lives around here. He said he also drives a Bullet. Don’t you know him?’ The caretaker said, ‘Robin was the only son of the owners of this Bungalow. He was a very kind hearted fellow and drove a Bullet. He died in an accident last year while driving down to Kalka on his bike. He is buried in the cemetery out there. May his soul rest in peace.’ He shuffled away leaving the dumbfounded couple behind. 
Anjali was the first to find her voice, ‘ Don’t you think we should get the bike checked before commencing our journey?’ They made their way to the market in silence and told the mechanic to give the bike a through check. ‘ Sir, the brake wire is about to snap. There is only one strand left. Thank God that you brought the bike for a check-up before driving back.’ Sachin and Anjali could only gape in silence as the words echoed in their minds, ‘You know, ghosts exist. I know it but please understand that all spirits are not evil. It has stopped raining and I must go. Goodnight and remember to get the brakes checked.’

THE LONG WEEKEND- a short story ( Part I)

Sachin parked his car at looked at his watch. 11.30 PM. He was bushed. His neck muscles were tense. His head throbbed. He made his way to the lift lobby and waited for it to arrive. As the lift begun its ascent towards his 11th floor apartment he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. What had happened to him? Seven years back he was at the top of his class in IIT Kanpur and was considered the guy most likely to succeed. And just seven years later he was climbing the mountain of corporate success fairly rapidly. Then why was he so disillusioned? He tried to analyze his feelings. He had always been an outdoor person. He had grown up in various military cantonments of India where space was never an issue. Even in the hallowed academic environment of IIT Kanpur he had excelled in games and had rarely missed Gym. He could take the mental stress of his job. It was just that the long hours he had to put in prevented him from taking physical exercise. The few laps in the condo’s pool on Sundays were not enough for him. His wife of five years, Anjali was working in a software firm and had to put in long hours in the office as well. As a result they were left with very little family time and recently their relations had been slightly strained. Nothing serious, he reasoned, we just need to unwind a bit. 
He reached his apartment and found Anjali waiting up for him. She too looked tired. He remembered the early days of his marriage. There had been a lot of love and passion, a sense of wonder and fulfillment. The love was still there. The sense of wonder had given way to an easy comfort, of camaraderie and trust. It was just for the past few months the passion had waned a bit and occasional flashes of irritation had raised its head. It’s all due to the stress of work, he told himself again. ‘How was your day?’ asked Anjali. ‘Tiring’ he replied. ‘You do appreciate the fact that both of us have turned into automatons. We are robots at the beck and call of the monstrous entities known as our respective employers!’ intoned Anjali. She had once harbored a secret ambition of becoming an author and was fond of using long words. He smiled, amused by the turn of speech. He still found her trait of using long words endearing. He had a sudden brainwave. ‘Tell you what. Tomorrow is a holiday. That is Friday. With Saturday and Sunday we have three days off. Let’s push off.’ ‘But I have so many chores at home. I have been accumulating the washing. Our bags are not packed. And all the resorts will be full. Where will we go? And how?’ As usual she had many objections. ‘Don’t worry. Just put the clothes in the washing machine after dinner. Pack our toothbrushes and a couple of jeans. We’ll start off at five in the morning and drive to Kasauli on my Bullet. I’ll find some place to stay.’ He was impulsive as always. ‘But your bike has been lying in disuse for months.’ She protested. ‘It’s fine. I know my bike. It will not fail us. After all it’s my first love and you are my second love. Remember our honeymoon!’ She wavered, remembering those magical days when they had driven off on the Kalka- Shimla highway on that bike immediately after their marriage without any plans or a care in the world. ‘Let’s take the car.’ ‘Please, please, let’s take the bike. We both need a lot of fresh air. Now be a good girl and do the needful. We got to get up early tomorrow.’ 
Next morning they were on the road with only a backpack for company. As they left the Ring Road and drove into the Grand Trunk Road, he felt liberated. It had been too long since they had done this. ‘We should do it more often’, murmured Anjali, echoing his thoughts. By eight, they were having their breakfast at Kalka. He hit the hills immediately after Kalka. He rode skillfully, enjoying the raw surge of power of the bike and the touch of Anjali’s body as she clung to him while he tackled the serpentine roads. By ten they were at Kasauli. They looked at delight at the towering mountains and the majestic pine trees. The hillside was full of colorful dahlias which had escaped from the gardens and were growing wild covering entire swathes of the hill. 
Now came the difficult part of travelling without previous bookings. All hotels and resorts were full and no room was available for love or money. Anjali was irritated. She refrained from making a comment but looked at him with I told you so ex-pression on her entire countenance. ‘Don’t worry, dear wife, I will find something!’ said Sachin as he drove off towards the TV transmission tower, some half remembered story of guest houses for rent in that area in his mind. A couple of enquiries later, they were guided to a small Bungalow near the cemetery. It was a beautiful affair with freshly painted tiled roofs, two bedrooms, a kitchen and a small garden. There was an outhouse with an ancient caretaker who was happy enough to give them the keys for two days. ‘It’s beautiful’, exclaimed Anjali as they settled down in the master bedroom. 
They were back on the road after freshening up and they drove to Giani da Dhaba in Dharampur for lunch. The entire afternoon was spent in lazing around in one of the numerous meadows surrounding the town. ‘I’ll cook dinner for you’, he volunteered on his way back. He messed around in the kitchen, banishing her from it as he cooked after years. At eight, he set up the dinner on the dining table, complete with a couple of candles, a rose from the garden and a chilled bottle of Himachali fruit wine. The food was not perfect but everything else was and they enjoyed the meal immensely. 
They went for a walk in the moonlight after the meal and strolled hand in hand towards the cemetery, slightly tipsy from the wine. The marble tombstone shone luminously in the moonlight creating a hypnotic effect. ‘Its divine’, murmured Anjali, as she snuggled up to him to ward off the chill, ‘I could spend the rest of my life here.’ ‘You will be bored out of your mind after a week of this.’ He replied as they made their way back to the bungalow.

To be concluded............

Link to part II