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Of Ghosts and Spirits(Jacob Kurien, Aug 17th, 2007) |
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Somewhere along the nebulous periphery between the living and the dead is
said to exist the world of spirits. Poltergeists, psychic communication, spirit possession and paranormal phenomena have been documented for almost the entire length of human history. For a lot of people that domain has
irreversibly claimed territory in their imagination. Suddenly, dark places transform into breeding grounds for demons and the chills of the supernatural and phobia of the
unexplained, tinker with nerve endings, like one cannot even begin to fathom. I am no
exception to being a victim of fear. To drive the point home, let me recount
a story told by a teacher of mine to our class.
I was in Vth grade and it was near the end of school day. We had about ten
minutes to kill before we could officially race for the buses to go home. History has irrevocably proven that at
ten years of age, having to wait ten minutes and exhibit patience simultaneously is an unreasonable expectation. Seeking entertainment, we decided
it was storytime and the rising unison of voices started pressuring the teacher to share
one.
The teacher was Mrs. Chaube - a woman whose rotund frame encompassed nothing
but sweetness in its purest form. To pacify our unrelenting demand, she agreed to
tell a story but her consent came with a startling warning - we were not to
repeat this to anyone. The warning was sealed with the even more numbing
announcement that the true story involved herself and about how she was to become the center
of a bizarre turn of events that has no explanation unto this day. What I heard in the next few minutes was going
to plunge me into an abyss of revulsive horror like I have never been
subject to before.
The tale rewinds several years to the time when Mrs. Chaube was a newly-wed.
The Indian bride underwent the usual distress of family separation in order
to transition into marital union. Enroute to her new home, she along with
her father-in-law decided to stop overnight at a hotel since it was getting
very late. They each had their own room and pretty soon the effects of
fatigue caught up with them, gradually sinking them into slumber. The
clandestine darkness of the night outside hung with deceptive serenity but
that was all about to change.
A few hours into the night, as Mrs. Chaube lay fast asleep, an uneasiness
began to creep into her. Very feeble at first, unearthly events were
transpiring in her room without her knowledge. The ethereal elements were working strange energies
at frequencies beyond human comprehension. Her subconscious mind with
sluggish insistence began to communicate very silently the presence of a
being in her absolute vicinity. This awareness grew to a point that it woke her out
of her sleep. As she opened her eyes, her skin froze, for staring right in front of her was the blue, glowing face of a man. In moments,
the apparition vanished, blending into the lurking darkness. The horror that
invaded her body caused her to jump out of bed and rush for the door. As she
sprinted into the common, narrow balcony that ran along the outside of the
hotel floor, the overwhelming shock of what she had seen caused her to pass
out.
She had no recollection of anything that happened the rest of that night.
The next thing she remembered were faint voices and a gentle touch trying to
revive her. It was dawn and in the growing morning light she recognized her
father-in-law in close proximity and a few other people with concerned looks trying to aid her
regain consciousness. She was sprawled on the floor outside her room. As she
struggled to her feet and gathered her confused thoughts, the memory of what she had
witnessed a few hours flashed back to her. The haunting face was one she had
never seen before. She confided the incident with her father-in-law who
suggested contacting the police.
The authorities arrived soon to investigate the strange happenings. They
showed her some photographs based on her description and immediately one in
the pack sprung out at her. The unmistakable cold eyes she had seen the
previous night, confirmed without a shred of doubt that it was the same
person as in the photo.
One of the officials from the hotel expressed immediate recognition of the
subject and gravely identified the man as an employee who used to work there.
Then dread clouded his brow as he haltingly proceeded to reveal that the suspect in question had
been dead for several years now. After the cremation rituals, the dead man's ashes
were collected in an urn and stored by his fellow-workers in the very room that
Mrs. Chaube had slept in for the night.
Thankfully, the school bell shrieked and I nearly fell out of my seat. That was where Mrs. Chaube's story
ended and my nightmares began. It was one of those days just waiting in
tepid silence to seek an innocent and vulnerable soul to prey on. The story
refused to stop echoing in my head for several days after that. The eerie
details would be even more profound when I lay in bed at night. Areas with
dim lighting, dark corners and the empty void under my bed instantaneously
became the devils habitat and places where I would never dare venture into
again. If I woke up in the middle of the night, I would feign to be asleep so that if there ever was an entity prowling for a victim, that
my stillness would coax it into ignoring me. Whispering voices and stealthy
footsteps came to visit me often when I was alone. The closest I ever came to
experiencing that magnitude of fear was a few years ago when Linda Blair
scared the life out of me in the movie - The Exorcist.
Fear stalks - and when its close, you better watch out. Here's a cautionary admonition - Don't look behind
you right now but you're being watched.
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