Undead Souls

Undead Souls

In the times when hands were the machines in the towns, there existed many unusual and superstitious customs and traditions. In the forlorn villages near the sanctuary of Kaziranga, the story was not different. The customs of the tribals were unique. Death, it seemed, was their main enemy. An unknown devil – that’s what the tribals called it. They feared death like anything. Therefore, the lifeless shells of the dead men were brutally cut into pieces before burying them in the earth. There were no rituals. There were no prayers and there wasn’t any remorse for the departed soul. Only a big rock was put up to mark the place of burial.

Today Kaziranga is quite a modern town. All the facilities are available. The age-old traditional customs had lost their original dreadfulness and there were temples and proper burial grounds now. I had the opportunity to visit the place in recent times for a conference was being held there. The journey to Kaziranga from the capital city of Guwahati was uneventful and boring. But the stay was not so.

Being the peak time in view of tourism, the hotels were all booked and there was a lot of problem getting a good hotel. We were three families there – mine, Raja’s and Rahul’s. After prolonged search for hotels and cottages, at last we managed to get three nice little cottages that looked quite newly constructed and decided to stay there for the night. The three cottages were adjacent to each other and the only thing un-picturesque were the two rocks that stood between two of the cottages in which Raja’s and Rahul’s families were living. Early next morning, I had to go to the conference with my friends and our wives stayed alone in the cottages. It was then that the trouble started in Raja’s cottage.

The wind was blowing fast and the trees, which surrounded the cottages, were making a eerie sound. Raja’s wife, Rachel, was reading a novel. A faint distinct rap on the window made her look up. She thought perhaps her husband had returned early. However, there was no one. She thought it must be someone playing a prank. But then again, she heard the knock on the window. She was alone and so she got a little afraid. She got up to see if anyone was hiding behind the wall. There was no one. This time she heard the rap on the window even when she was looking straight into the pane. There was no one. Just the knocking on the glass and herself. She opened her mouth to scream. But no sound came out. She was terrified of the shadow of a man which stood in contrast to the sunny ground behind the cottage. She was afraid because she could not see the man – she could only see the shadow knocking on the window.

Then there was the second incident. We had returned from the conference late at night. There was a cocktail party and so my friends and me got a little late walking alone from the conference hall. We were very tired and went to our respective cottages. It was then that Rahul had a nightmarish experience. Rahul’s wife, Seema, was watching TV late into the night while Rahul was giving out his monotonous sonic blasts from his quivering nose. Then the whole cottage gave a violent shudder. Earthquake, she thought, and went to wake up Rahul. He woke up shaking to the second rumble. He and Seema ran out. But everything was silent. There were no more shudders. They laughed at each other for being so panicky. And went inside to have a good night’s sleep. Rahul thought that he must have had a trifle more of the cocktail than he should have. But then his thoughts were given an assurance. There was a loud shattering of the window panes overlooking the two big rocks. And he knew that his drinking had nothing to do with it.

I learned about these incidents in the bus during our return journey. I told Rahul that there wasn’t any earthquake the previous night. I reasoned with them – what could it have been? The knocking on the window pane might have been the misguided venture of a lone lady’s suspicious mind. Perhaps there had been an earthquake which I was too sleepy to notice. Perhaps some wild mongoose had broken the pane. Or maybe, as the old tribal conductor of the bus told me later with a wily grin on his wrinkled face, the two big rocks between the cottages had something to do with it.