Jeep No. 510 (Concluding Part)

“No! I do not have the foggiest idea about the history of jeep ORO 510, except that it must have seen better days” was my surprised reply.

“You must be knowing that we had a very big site at Barsua where all the major work is nearly over and the site is now being closed down?” asked Mr. Ghosh

“Yes, I do!” I replied not hiding my impatience.

Then Mr. Ghosh with some prompting from his colleagues told me a story which was both intriguing and horrifying.

“Mr. R. K. Khanna used to be the site-in-charge at Barsua. He was a very capable person but was also very tough and some what abusive, which was quite common for the job he was doing. He maintained a strict discipline at site and the workers were quite afraid of him.

One day a rigger...a crane operator, Puran Singh..... a young sardarji... came drunk to site and had altercation with Mr. Khanna. Mr. Khanna wanted to sack him immediately but due to intervention of Harbans, who was the leader of riggers and was also related to Puran Singh, he was let off with an ultimate warning. However, about a month later Puran Singh was caught drunk at the site once again and Mr. Khanna sacked him summarily not paying any heed to Puran Singh’s pleadings or Harbans’ requests.  Puran Singh threatened Mr. Khanna with dire consequence while being released. Harbans also had an altercation with Mr. Khanna on that day and was warned by Mr. Khanna.

Puran Singh left the site on the same day and nothing happened for about a month. Then one night Mrs. Khanna rang me up to inform that Mr. Khanna had not returned from the site! Immediately we arranged a search party but we could neither locate Mr. Khanna nor his driver and jeep in which they used to travel! An FIR was lodged with Barsua Police station. Next day the jeep was located at the bottom of a gorge. We thought this was an accident and along with police personnel searched the adjoining area for the missing bodies in vain. Finally the police dogs were brought in to help and the bodies of Mr. Khanna and that of his driver ...both in severely mutilated condition ....were found stuffed in a nearby rain water drain pipe.

Considering foul play, an arrest warrant was issued against Puran Singh, but he could not be located anywhere....even at his hometown in Punjab. Police were also certain that it could not have been possible for Puran Singh alone to overpower both Mr. Khanna and his driver who were physically quite strong.  They suspected that he must have had accomplices. Harbans along with his entire rigger-gang was rounded up and grilled by the police, but were released later due to lack of evidence. Everybody, however, was convinced that Harbans must have been involved.

The jeep was recovered from the gorge and was sent to Kansbahal works for repair. The registration number of that jeep was ORO 510 ....the one you are using. Mr. Khanna’s driver was tribal and used to stay in a village opposite to the hill with twin peaks”.

I was shocked to hear this gruesome story but did not tell Mr. Ghosh and others that every night my jeep stopped near that village because of some unexplained reason. I did not want to fuel any superstition.

That day I could not enjoy my dinner, not due to any fault of Kalyan...our cook, but I was really very disturbed and was always thinking about Mr. Khanna and his driver and their untimely end.

Next day morning when I was again getting busy with my work, Lawrence came to me and asked “Sir, may I take the jeep for servicing?”

“Please go ahead and see that all the filters are also changed. It is too dusty out here” I replied.

That day we closed the site at about 8 PM and after dropping my colleagues when we started towards Kansbahal, it was already past 9 PM.

“Lawrence, did you hear any story about this jeep” I asked Lawrence, when we were alone.

“No, Sir, I do not know anything except that it has been transferred from another site” replied Lawrence.

I briefly narrated to Lawrence what I heard yesterday night. Lawrence was aghast and very perturbed!

When we were climbing the up-hill gradient near the ‘hill with twin peaks” it was about 9:30 PM and I was thinking about the brutal killing of Mr. Khanna’s tribal driver who used to live in the cluster of huts on the left hand side of the highway, exactly opposite to the spot where the jeep stopped automatically everyday for the last one month. I was expecting the jeep to stop at the same spot even that day. Probably Lawrence was also thinking the same.

BUT THE JEEP DID NOT STOP!

It did not stop at that spot that day and never afterwards!  I have since wondered whether it was because some mechanical fault got rectified in the last servicing or was there something else to it ... some questions always remain unanswered ...

Jeep No. 510 (Part III)

With all my love for wild animals, I never wanted to be so near an angry wolf! I was very angry with Lawrence for following my command so literally! I could not shift my gaze from the wolf but from the left corner of my eye I could see that Lawrence was also having all his teeth out in soundless mirth! As if he thought it was a big joke!

The wolf was letting out a much suppressed growl like dogs before they attack and every time it was letting out a growl a pungent odor of rotten flesh was filling my nostril and the wolf’s saliva was being sprayed on my shoe. We were both frozen in time....the wolf was holding its ground and fortunately my leg was paralyzed to avoid any movement which could have provoked the wolf to attack. Though my neck and vocal cord were also momentarily paralyzed, my super active brain was trying to assure me that there was no known incident of wolf attacking an adult human being! But I was not sure whether a wild wolf in this remote corner of Orissa would know about that statistic! Neither did I want to end up being a statistical aberration! Considering my diminutive figure, it might not even realize that I was a full-grown adult!  

Fortunately nothing more interesting happened and the wolf slowly lowered its guard. I could see a perceptible change in its gaze. It then closed its fangs, lowered its head and turned away. Both the wolves then trotted away towards the mountain having lost their supper because of my unintentional intervention.

Dusk came very fast and all of a sudden it became quite dark. Even the cluster of huts was engulfed in darkness.

“Lawrence, why did you switch off the engine?” I demanded after getting back my composer after all the drama. “Don’t you know carnivorous do not attack a jeep if the engine is on?” I added further.

“Sir, I did not switch off the engine. It just stopped!” replied Lawrence meekly.

“OK, what are you waiting for? Just start the engine and get off from this place immediately. I do not want those wolves to come back in a pack” I added.

Lawrence immediately switched on the starter, but it failed to start the engine! Lawrence tried several times but though the starter was working, the engine was only coughing without starting. Though I did not know driving a jeep and was quite innocent about its engine, I have seen that people in such situations would always open the bonnet and peep inside. So I promptly ordered Lawrence to open the bonnet which he immediately did. After surveying a little about the possible presence of wolves, I jumped out from the other side to join Lawrence. Inside the bonnet it was darker than outside.

“Lawrence, please get me the torch, let me have a look inside” I said while looking inside the bonnet.

“Sir, there is no torch in this Jeep” said Lawrence hesitantly.

“What? You do not have any torch? What about a match box?” I asked tentatively, since the whole place was smelling of gasoline and a naked flame could be dangerous!

“I do not have any match box. I am a non-smoker” replied Lawrence

“Oh!” I had to downplay this particular fault of his since I was a non-smoker myself.

There not much of traffic on the road and whatever loaded trucks were passing were not in a mood to stop and help us out. I was just waiting for some passing car from our factory to get a lift and arrange a mechanic from our transport division. With the twilight drama just concluded, I was a little jittery. About fifteen minutes passed which seemed like ages and I requested Lawrence to try starting the engine once again. Lawrence followed my advice wordlessly and the jeep started with the first start itself as if nothing had happened! I immediately climbed onto my seat and prompted him to drive of immediately.

“Tomorrow, as soon as we reach the site, you should take this jeep for a through servicing. Probably the fuel line is choked or there could be an airlock some where” was my expert advice as soon as we started towards Kansbahal.

“But Sir, I have taken the delivery of this Jeep yesterday only after a through servicing!” remarked Lawrence.

“Any way, take it to the service station once again for a through check up. Also purchase a torch and all the necessary tools as required” I replied.

Next day, before I got busy with the work, I once more reminded Lawrence about servicing the jeep. I did not want to get stuck mid way once again.

All the site people were very friendly with me and whatever I was lacking in my experience I was trying to make up with my enthusiasm. I was particularly impressed with Harbans for his personality and the command he was having over his rigger gang. I, however, found that he was very independent in his thinking and had scanty respect for my advice. He would listen to me very attentively with a smiling face and would go out to do exactly what he wanted.

That day we closed the site at about 8 PM and after dropping my colleagues when I started towards Kansbahal it was already passed 9PM. I was very tired, having got up at 4 AM and was dozing, and so was Lawrence when we reached the up hill gradient near the “hill with twin peaks”. Though Lawrence did put the jeep in the first gear, from the sound I could understand that the engine was strained while climbing the grade, which I felt was quite normal. But after it had climbed the grade and was almost parallel to the cluster of huts on the left side, it coughed a few times and then suddenly stopped, nearly at the same place like yesterday!

“Lawrence, what happened?” was my startled remark.

“I do not know Sir. It just stopped all of a sudden” replied Lawrence and tried to restart the engine. But it failed to start even with repeated attempts. That day, of course, we were better prepared and Lawrence climbed down with his newly purchased torch and a tool kit. He opened the bonnet and checked thoroughly but could not locate any fault.

“Did you take it to garage to-day for servicing?” I demanded in a not very pleasant tone.

“Sir, I myself am a motor mechanic. In the garage to-day, I along with the garage mechanic checked each and every part of the engine. We even flushed the fuel tank and the connected line. There was nothing wrong with the engine” replied Lawrence, almost in tears.

There was nothing much we could do except waiting. After about fifteen minutes, some thing clicked in me and I advice Lawrence to start the engine once again. Surprisingly the engine started without any hassle!

For the next one month everything fell into a routine. At site all the dismantling work was over. Mechanical parts were already transported to our workshop at Kansbahal where they would be repaired, replaced or modified under my supervision in consultation with our client. Mr. Roy along with all other supervisors would coordinate repair and modification of the structural parts at site. When both these portion of work would be over, all the parts then will be assembled at site and then erected on the crane bays. Within a couple of days I was supposed to go back to Kansbahal and return once again to site only during last phase.

Even stopping of the jeep near the cluster of huts became part of the routine, even with Lawrence’s best efforts of finding the fault! It almost became like a tea-break except there was no tea stall nearby. I thought it could be due to overheating of the engine while climbing the slope. This theory, however, was discarded by Lawrence.

After lowering the girders and other heavy parts, Harbans left along with his gang of riggers. He was supposed to come back during the erection when we would need his help to lift the heavy equipment on to the crane bays. Though he violated safety standards at times, I liked him quite a lot and was vocal about it. One day, while taking tea with Mr. Ghosh, somehow Harbans’ name cropped in and I was all praises about him. Mr. Ghosh allowed me to finish and then added “Mr. Sengupta you are so young. It is nice that you are not a miser in praising people. But too much of praise is also not good unless you know the person thoroughly”. I could not fathom why he said that but discarded it as professional jealousy.

It was a Friday and the next day was my last day at site for the first phase, when Mr. Ghosh approached me. “Mr. Sengupta why don’t you have dinner with us to-night? Our cook, Kalyan will cook chicken curry and rice and also arrange some sweets from the Bengali shop near the station” said Mr. Ghosh. “ You can spend the night in the transit room” he added further. I heard about Kalyan’s cooking ability and did not want to miss the chance.

We closed the site little early that day and reached their Bungalow at about 7 PM. We took our showers and then sat on the garden chairs in the well maintained lawn when Kalyan served us hot tea and some home made snacks. It was a beautiful moonlight night and we were gossiping on any thing under the sun (or moon) when Mr. Ghosh asked me in a very sober voice “Mr. Sengupta, do you know the history behind your jeep no. ORO 510?”   Immediately all his other friends stopped talking and there was a hushed silence as if he has said some thing very unpleasant and terrible. [To be continued] 

Jeep No. 510 (Part II)

Kansbahal was in the tribal heartland of Sundergarh district in Orissa and was about twenty five kilometers towards Bombay from the steel city called Rourkela.

Our factory was sandwiched between the Calcutta-Bombay main railway lines on one side and the Calcutta-Bombay National Highway (NH 6) on the other.

During the probation period (first six months after joining) I was sharing a quarter (apartment) with another engineer from Kerala at Workers’ colony, called South colony which was near the railway lines. Our quarter was on the last row beyond which there was only a flat land improvised as a foot ball field followed by the railway lines acting as the boundary between our colony and the vast mountainous forest land.

Most of the carnivores, except jackals and wolves left the area when the factory was being set up, due to the destruction of the habitat. However, snakes and scorpions were in plenty.  The whole set up was very picturesque with distant blue mountains. But danger lurked after sunset. During the full moon period, the tribals in the nearby villages used to dance till late night and we could hear the faint melody of tribal folk songs accompanied by the haunting beats of madal (tribal drums). There were occasional reports of human sacrifice during the sowing season which, however, could never be confirmed.

I used to get up at 5 AM to be ready for the morning shift starting at 6 AM. But that day I had to set my alarm at 4 AM. At about 5 AM when I was ready and sipping my first cup of tea, I heard the distant sound of a Jeep and came out to see a Jeep approaching our apartment.

“Are you Mr. Sengupta?” asked the driver stopping the Jeep but without switching off the engine.

On my affirmation, the driver switched off the engine and came out to greet me.

“Selam sab (sir), I am Lawrence, Lawrence Minch, your driver” said the man with a broad smile.

I closed the door of my apartment, gave him a friendly nod and got into the front seat of the Jeep.

The Jeep had a fresh coat of paint... jaundice yellow colour (typical colour of our company’s vehicles) and also new upholstery and a new canvas covering but I was sure that it had seen better days.

Lawrence was a tribal with a medium disposition. With his square jaw line, a small chin and closely cropped curly hair with a ridge at the centre, his face was like an imperfect hexagon. His face was absolutely impassive with blood shot eyes which could be due to lack of sleep or after-effect of Hariya (country liquor made from fermented rice and Mohuwa fruits / flower) . He was wearing a factory issued khaki uniform with a railway surplus navy blue jacket.

We took the unpaved perimeter road, skirting our factory and came to North Colony on the other side of the factory and took the concrete lined “Mahatab road” cutting across North Colony. After about a kilometer drive on the excellently maintained Mahatab road we hit the Calcutta-Bombay National Highway (NH 6) and took right turn towards Rourkela (in the direction of Calcutta).

In those days NH 6 was only an apology for a national highway.... a two-lane narrow road, full of unevenness and potholes with unpaved shoulders becoming treacherous during monsoon! A few kilometers down the road was a small habitat called Kalunga known for its Catholic Church and a first aid centre. The surroundings were mostly barren with jagged rocks on both the sides of the highway -remnants of hillocks which were blasted while making the highway. At a distance, say about half a kilometer, ran Sankha River parallel to the highway on the left hand side. Low level hills or hillocks could be seen on both the side of the highway with the distant mountains on the right-hand side always covered with a misty bluish haze. A few kilometers away from Kalunga, on the left flank of the highway, at a distance, there was a hill with twin peaks acting as a beckon while returning to Kansbahal. All my friends with profound knowledge in human anatomy used to find feminine resemblance but I would rather prefer calling it as the “Hill with twin peaks” only. The highway more or less followed the undulation of the terrain and took a stiff gradient downward parallel to the hill with the twin peaks. Just before the gradient, on the right-hand side, about two furlongs away, there was a cluster of mud houses. These were bordered with low level hedges which merely demarcated the area but did not provide any protection against any  trace passers. Occasionally we could see tribals tilling on very small patches of land with rickety bullocks and goat-kids jumping on cluster of rocks like “Kopjes” in Africa.

About eighteen kilometers away from Kansbahal, the Sankha river running parallel to the highway all along met river Koel as well as a hidden river Saraswati at a holy confluence called Vedavyas near a small settlement called Panposh to form river Brahmani and then ran perpendicular to the highway. At Panposh, the highway is bifurcated.... straight segment going towards the Rourkela railway station, old city  as well as the steel township and the perpendicular segment going towards the Rourkela Steel Plant and the Barsua mines.

On reaching Panposh, we took straight road ahead since I was supposed to pick up some of my colleagues from Steel Township. Our sister-concern ECC, expert in erection and commissioning work, had just completed a major work at Barsua and deputed some of their supervisors and workers to our site for helping us. The leader of the group was one Mr. Ghosh. He along with three of his colleagues ...all Bengalis....was housed in a 3BHK bungalow in the steel township. One room in that bungalow was converted into a transit house for officials from Kansbahal or elsewhere in case of emergency.

After picking my colleagues we headed for our site office  inside the Rourkela steel plant. By the time we reached the site office, Mr. Roy was already there, trying to organize the site office and take control of about hundred workers!

Amongst the various people I met that day I was quite impressed by one Mr. Harbans Singh, a sardarji who was the leader of a group called “Riggers” who were specialized in erection and transportation of heavy machineries. Harbans was very handsome and talkative and gave the impression of self confidence. Most of the time, however, he was with his group of fellow riggers...all sardarjis.. and was not mixing with others except very casual “Hi”. He was supposed to be with us only for two short spells... once during the beginning to lower the heavy girders and other heavy equipment from the high crane bays and then again during the end, to lift all those heavy girders and other equipment, repair and modification, back to the crane bays.

That day we did not do much work except setting up the office and having a short meeting with the steel plant authority regarding schedule of completion and the facilities we require from them to accomplish the job. My boss Mr. Avatar Singh also joined us during the discussion with our client.

“Biplab, you better advice Harbans about the procedure to be followed to lower those girders” was his first remarks as soon as we came out from the meeting.

“ My God, I did not even lift or lower anything weighing more than five kilos in my whole life, how could I advice Harbans who is supposed to be an expert riggers!” I thought but  did not want to dishearten him by translating my thoughts into words! Mr. Singh had fantasy about IITans!

That day we were let off by about 4 PM. After dropping my colleagues at their bungalow I headed for Kansbahal. It was just twilight when we reached the steep up hill gradient near the “Hill with twin peaks” and I was thinking of taking a shower and go to my favorite Bengali club “Milani” for an evening “Adda” (gossip) when I was startled by the cacophony of drum beats, hammering of tin cans, shouting, and baying of goats! Looking left towards the cluster of mud houses I saw all the children from the cluster, womenfolk and their goats huddled together and creating the cacophony. On the right, just on the other side of the highway were two animals which looked like grown up Alsatian dogs from a distance.          

“Lawrence, stop the car near those dogs! Let me see what the reason for this commotion is all about ?” I commanded my driver.

Literally following my command, Lawrence stopped the car after climbing the slope, nearly running over the dog nearest to the highway which instinctively jumped away a little to avoid a collision and bared its fangs. To my horror I then noticed that they were not dogs but mountain wolves and my right foot which was resting on the footboard just outside the jeep was less than a foot away from the bare fangs of the nearest wolf!  [To be continued] 

Jeep No. 510

I was unable to understand why the recurrent nightmare “terminal examination is about to start and I am not at all prepared” was unable to get the grip on me! There was a whining sound and the bed was shaking! Could it be an earthquake! I opened my eyes with a start to realize that I was dozing at the front seat of a speeding Jeep. It was quite dark outside. I checked the partially illuminated dial of my watch and found it was about 5:15 in the morning. I was disoriented for a moment and then realized “Oh! I must be heading for Raurkela Steel Plant for my new assignment!” I glanced on the left to find the driver was also dozing! A perfect prelude to a subsequent nightmare!

Fortunately for me, I never had to decide anything for myself. Not that I complained about it (though my girl friends had the misconception and consoled me for the same), but it was always taken care of by God or his various incarnations. When I joined Larsen & Toubro, Kansbahal Works (that time it was called Utkal Machinery Limited) in Orissa, about three months back, my boss Avtar Singh, a fellow IITian of 1957 batch, decided to make a designer out of me for no apparent animosity. “Biplab, we have decided to train you as a design engineer. However, to become a successful designer you must have a thorough knowledge about production, erection and commissioning” declared Mr. Singh within a couple of minutes of our first rendezvous. I heard him with a solemn face with the difficult calculations of all the relevant engineering subjects, which I could never master, flashing through my mind and mocking at me!

Immediately I was assigned to fabrication shop. Within three months when I was just about to get a hang of the system so as to swim without getting myself wet, one fine morning I was enjoying tea with my colleagues during a tea break, when I saw Chintamony, our office peon approaching me with his usual pensive face.
“Singh sab (sir) is calling you” said Chintamony with no enthusiasm in his voice.
“OK, I will meet him just before the lunch break” I replied while sipping my tea
“No. Singh sab told me to fetch you right now. It is urgent” replied Chintamony shaking his head vigorously in disapproval and started off towards the door.
I got up from the chair and started following Chintamony without any further word. I was worried least some of my latest escapades have been reported to Mr. Singh with sufficient mashala to make it juicy.
When I finally reached Mr. Singh’s table, I found him in his usual jovial mood and discussing with a really tall and hefty man sitting opposite to him.
“Oh! Here comes Biplab!” exclaimed Mr. Singh.
“Good Morning, Mr. Sing” I said with a smile
“Mr. Roy let me introduce Mr. Biplab Sengupta to you. Our new recruit from IIT, Kharagpur. A brilliant engineer who has already made his mark during the last three months!” said Mr. Singh while getting up and shaking hand with me.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Sengupta. My name is K. K. Roy” said Mr. Roy while getting up and shaking hand with me.

“By the way, Mr. Roy, we have selected Biplab as your deputy. Working with you will definitely give him the rich experience in erection and commissioning” added Mr. Sing further while taking his seat.

I was puzzled and was trying to find out if there could be any trace of sarcasm in Mr. Sing’s voice. Unfortunately that was missing and that made me more nervous. I knew Mr. Singh likes me a lot and most of my friends call me his “Chela” (protégé), but going out of his way to praise me in front of a stranger, was something unusual. Why on earth should I also become a deputy to somebody whom I did not even know? And for what assignment? There must be something fishy, I told myself. I nervously and sat down by the side of Mr. Roy, still thinking about my boss’s unusual behavior in the morning.

“Biplab, you must know that we got a contract from Rourkela Steel Plant to revamp one of their special cranes. We have to dismantle it, extensively repair and modify all the structural and mechanical parts, some at site and some in the shop, reassemble and erect, all within a very tight schedule” said Mr. Singh in a single breath.

“Mr. Roy who is the best fabrication and erection expert I have ever seen in my life will be the in charge for the entire operation and you, as his deputy, will assist him from start to finish” added Mr. Singh further.

Mr. Roy gave me an amusing look and said nothing. Probably he was pondering how he could get stuck with a lanky deputy who is hardly twenty one years of age, not more than five feet five inches on socks, less than forty five kilos when fully clothed and having a shop experience of not more than three months! He couldn't have asked for anything better!

“When do we start?” I interjected meekly.

“Why? From tomorrow only” Said Mr. Singh with surprise in his voice, as if I have had said something very unusual.

“What about my pending work in the fabrication shop?” I said with an intention of gaining some time to start with my new assignment.

“I have already spoken to Mr. Colombowala. Considering the importance of this project, he has agreed to release you by today once you handover the charge to your shift foreman. You will get balance instruction  from Mr. Roy” said Mr. Singh with finality while handing over to me a pile of drawings and documents.

Meanwhile the tea-boy came and we had our tea without further ado.

“Mr. Sengupta, let us go to the conference room to discuss about the project” said Mr. Roy with a jovial voice and got up. I followed him like a lamb with the pile of drawings and documents.

We had a long discussion when Mr. Roy explained to me about the job and what he expected from me. “Mr. Sengupta, a Jeep with a registration number “ORO 510” has been assigned to you. The name of the driver is “Lawrence” who will report to you at your quarter at 5.00 AM starting from tomorrow. On your way to site, please also pick up other supervisors from Rourkela. Don’t worry, we will solve all the problems together” said Mr. Roy with a reassuring smile while departing.

I found Mr. Roy to be quite reassuring and self confident. I have had already heard about Mr. Roy. Though he was not having any formal engineering degree, he was extremely efficient and was supposed to become superintendent of fabrication shop. However, when L&T took over the management of the company, just before I joined, they did not promote Mr. Roy and brought in one Mr. Colombowala as the shop superintendent. Mr. Roy refused to work under Mr. Colombowala and resigned. About the same time this new project came up and the company made a deal with Mr. Roy. He was persuaded to take charge of this project as his last assignment with a hefty bonus clause. I was assign to assist him with the high hope of learning as much as possible before he was released! That was my first brush with corporate politics!

I returned to my desk, handed over my pending work to our shift foreman who congratulated me for no apparent rhyme or reason and then started going through the documents once again. For some reason I was having a hollow feeling. Was it simply because of the impending lunch break or was it because of something utterly unknown, I could not figure out. (to be continued)

The haunted house (Concluding Part)

From the silhouette and the gait I guessed that it could be Bandhu.
“Who is there? Is it Bandhu?” I shouted with as much boldness as I could muster.
“Selam Sab (Sir)! I am Bandhu” the figure in the dark answered in a slurred voice.
“Bandhu?” I gave a sigh of relief. “What are you doing here at this hour?” I enquired

By that time Bandhu crossed the lawn and came up to the gate. He was holding a sickle in his right hand and a small object in his left. He was quite drunk and I could smell Mohuwa Tadi (country liquor). I was a little cautious considering he was drunk and armed. Tribals have a reputation for being temperamental and there have been several instances of unexplained violent actions with the slightest of provocation.

“There is an evil spirit in this house. I had consulted an exorcist in our village and planted a talisman given by him in the kitchen garden” he said. He was barely able to keep him standing. “Since you sacked me, I am taking away the talisman. Don’t blame me, if anything happens to you now” he added and walked away into the dark.

The conversation did not lift my spirit. As I stood there in complete darkness I realized suddenly that I was supposed to enter a house which till the other day no one dared to even look at during the night. “My God! I’ll have to cross about fifty meters to reach the main door, unlock the door and switch on the lights” I thought. Anyway I was able to do all that without fainting.

Once the lights were on, I got back my confidence, at least partially. It was a little warm. So I took a bath, changed and again set out for the club since there was hardly anything to do in the house. I had to go to the club anyway for my dinner.

Conversations at the club also did not go well. All my friends were quite anxious at the thought that I would be spending the night alone in the house but nobody ventured to give me company. All of a sudden I realized that most of my friends were authorities on the paranormal and had several memorable personal experiences with ghosts! By the time I left the club at about 11:00 PM after a few games of Table Tennis and a light dinner I was fully conversant with the modus operandi of ghosts of different kinds!

On reaching home, I dressed for the night and lay down on my bed with a story book in hand. I had the habit of reading at least for an hour before going to sleep. I was engrossed with the book may be for an hour when all of sudden I heard a sound “Dhoop…. Dhoop” as if somebody was walking on the roof with a measured gait! I was tense and had goose bumps all over my body! All of a sudden the sound stopped. After a few minutes again I heard the sound “Dhoop….. Dhoop…… Dhoop” followed by a sound “Garrrrr….Garrrrr” as if something was being rolled on the roof. I also heard some sound as if somebody was moving in the kitchen garden!

I did not know what to do till I remembered my mother’s advice that “if you hear an unusual sound, you must find out the source of the sound immediately. Otherwise it will only add to your anxiety”. I thought “If I do not find out the source of this unusual sound, I won’t be able to stay in this house”. I got up from my bed, took a two-cell torch and the house keys from the drawer and proceeded towards the main door. I searched for a suitable stick but could not find one. As an after thought I took the eight-inch blade hunting cum throwing knife which was hanging from a hook behind my bed room door. I was, however, not very sure whether a knife could give any protection against a sprit.

I recalled my mother’s advice and switched on all the lights in our bungalow. There were lights on all the four corners of the house. However, they were partially hidden by bougainvillea creepers, thereby creating a mosaic of light and shadow.

I came out from the main door, locked it and cautiously proceeded along the cemented foot path encircling the house to reach the kitchen garden. When I was going around the corner at the back, a dark object silently went past my head. I was startled and immediately looked up and directed the torch beam overhead but could not see anything. Suddenly from the middle of the kitchen garden which was quite dark, some dark shadows darted past the fencing. I stopped for a moment to compose myself and again proceeded cautiously to check all the trees and surroundings with my torch all the while holding my knife in ready position.

When I reached the guava tree which was at the middle of the kitchen garden, I found lots of partially eaten guavas on the ground with pug marks of dog like animals. I heard some sound overhead and directed the torch beam there to find lots of bats flying! I also got a feeling that somebody must be watching me from across the fence. You will always have this sixth sense if you have any experience of roaming in the forest. I directed the torch beam towards my right, across the fence and could locate the silhouette of a pack of jackals with their eyes gleaming under the torch beam. Though I was scared, I knew they were not going to attack me. I picked up a twig and threw at them and they ran away.

Now I could understand the mystery of the haunted house! The bats were feeding on guavas. Since the guava tree was covering a part of the roof, some guavas plucked by bats were falling on the roof making “Dhoop…. Dhoop” sound. Because of the slanted roof, some of them were even rolling down to the kitchen garden making the strange rolling sound “Garrrrr’. Jackals who are fond of guavas were feeding on the guavas being discarded by the bats. They were fighting among themselves and that was creating the strange sound of foot steps in the kitchen garden. I was sure that these bats were absolutely harmless fruit eating bats and that there were no vampires amongst them! And surely no werewolf among these harmless jackals!

I did not want to disturb either the bats or the jackals during their dinner and returned to my bed feeling satisfied that I had solved the mystery of the haunted house.

Santosh left for Tisco Growth Shop at Jamshedpur after a couple of months. I stayed in that house all alone for quite some time there after. I used to hear all those strange sounds from time to time but that never bothered me ever again.

The haunted house (Part II)

Ajit wanted an early release and left us within two days. We were quite low after Ajit’s departure due to the loss of a good friend and a gossiping partner. Next Sunday at breakfast, while Santosh was having his favorite Alu Paratha (stuffed Indian fried bread), Yogurt and Pickle, I broached the subject.

“Other day Muralidas told me that the so called haunted house will be renovated and offered to the willing bachelors who are not superstitious. He asked me whether we are interested,” I said casually.

Santosh was relishing his Alu Paratha and did not say anything, though I knew he was all ears on the subject.

“I told him that it is OK with me. But I can not take a decision without consulting Santosh who could be superstitious” I added, expecting a violent reaction.

“Partner (his usual address) how could you say that? I am never superstitious!” Santosh was pained. “Tell Muralidas by tomorrow itself, before he talks to anybody else, that we are interested” Santosh was quite empathetic.

Primary goal thus achieved, I immediately switched the topic, lest Santosh’s animosity towards Muralidas got the better of it and he backed out.

Early next day I contacted Muralidas to give him our consent.

“Good Morning, Mr. Muralidas; Biplab here. Finally I could convince Santosh although it took a lot of persuasion. You must give me kudos for it!”

“Good Morning, Mr. Sengupta! I am really thankful to you” Muralidas was overjoyed

“The house, however, really looks haunted. Hope you will restore it before we move in?” I suggested.

“Oh! Mr. Sengupta! Please don’t worry. I will definitely bring it to its original shape and give it a fresh coat of paint. I will also restore the lawn and the kitchen garden” Muralidas replied with all sincerity.

That afternoon we found a platoon of estate workers working on the house. Within a week it was brought to such a magnificent state that I was wondering whether Mr. Muralidas really had a change of heart. Perhaps he really wasn’t as bad as we had always thought (which was rather difficult to believe) or maybe he was instigating the ghost to take retaliatory action on us immediately on our arrival!

The news that we were moving to the haunted house spread like wild fire and became the main topic of discussion in our club for the next few days. All our Bhabis were against our decision. Even our bosses were worried.

Anyway, we managed to maintain a brave facade although we had prayers on our lips when we finally moved into the haunted house within a couple of days along with “Bandhu” our man Friday.

Bandhu was a middle-aged tribal. With his salt and pepper cropped hair, half-grown beard, four jutting out crooked front teeth, a short dhoti above his knees and a flapping kurta on top, he used to give the impression of a moving “Scare Crow”. Work wise, however, we didn’t have much to complain about.

The bungalow was really magnificent! It was slightly below the road surface. A cemented pathway led to a huge Iron Gate on the left most corner. There was no street light on the arterial roads and the ornamental gate lights (maintained by the estate department) provided a mysterious halo only near the gates. A graveled drive way extended up to an open garage. Just by the side of the garage there was a small swimming pool. A cemented three feet wide footpath encircled the whole house. There were two big bed rooms with a very big drawing cum dining hall with separate servant’s quarters. The roof was slightly slanted towards the rear for the better drainage. The lawn in front was quite big. The kitchen garden at the rear was even bigger with an assortment of big fruit bearing trees like mango, jack fruit, jamoun and a very big guava tree with branches covering a part of the roof. The barbed wire fencing at the rear was also the boundary for our colony. Between the fencing and the highway there was a forest land about three hundred meters deep.

Nothing happened for the first couple of months except our mess bill went up quite substantially, which, we guessed, could not be attributed to supernatural involvement. We discussed the same with Bandhu who could not give any proper explanation except attributing it to general price rise.

After breakfast we used to walk down to our office which was about a kilometer away.

That day we both started for our office together but halfway down I realized that I left an important file at home.

“Santosh, I left an important file at home and must fetch it. You please go ahead. I will meet you in the office” I said and hurried back.

While entering the house I heard some noise inside! Bandhu opened the door with a surprised expression. Entering the main hall, I found at least eight to ten kids, eldest may be around fifteen along with a very fat lady were having a great feast. I did not say a word; just collected my file and left.

During a tea break, I informed Santosh about the episode.
“Partner, what Bandhu did is unpardonable. We are already paying Bandhu more than the standard rate. Even when we asked for his explanation for the higher mess bill, he did not tell us the truth. I know, you may be feeling bad, but we must sack Bandhu immediately” said Santosh after thinking for some time while smoking.

We had an unwritten understanding that one will always support the other on such issues and hence the decision was taken immediately. When we came home for our lunch, we released Bandhu after paying him a suitable compensation. Bandhu probably could understand his fault and did not argue.

Same day Santosh went for a tour to Calcutta in the evening.

While returning from office, I went to club for a game of billiard and returned to our bungalow around eight in the evening. The whole house was dark since there was nobody to switch on the lights. While I was opening the gate it made a creaking sound and then I saw a dark figure in white clothing coming from the rear side of the bungalow! I froze! [To be continued]

The haunted house

We were having a tea break after a grueling session of daily gossip, fondly called “Absolute Thinking” after office hours. It was early 1969 and all five of us had joined a unit of Larsen & Toubro in Orissa, about six months earlier.

Though we had lots in common, all were from IIT, Kharagpur, mechanical engineers, bachelors, extremely argumentative and lazy, we were also quite different in many other ways.

Ajit Mandal was from ’63 batch and was the senior most. He had the single ambition of going to USA!

Amlan Sen was from ’66 batch and was the best of the lot with regards to all human qualities. He was a connoisseur of everything good in life be it literature, music or playing bridge.

Santosh Singh did his M. Tech from IIT in ’68. He was a very intelligent, clean shaven sarder who always used to come up with some “Blue Sky” ideas and used to feel sorry for the world in general and us in particular if we were not supporting his ideas!

Sumit Satsangi was from ‘68 batch and was a sportsman to the core. He used to sport a mustache to look like army personnel in deference to his boyhood dream which could not be fulfilled due to a mysterious attack of bronchitis during army selection!

I was from the ’68 batch as well and as far as I was concerned there was nothing to write home about me except that I was quite popular with the kids in our colony since I could flip them on my shoulder. And most of the ladies in the colony had the misconception about my ability to fix up anything except broken hearts (a few attempts met with disastrous consequences)! So I had free access to all the families in our colony for cookies.

It was during the early stage of industrialization in India and our company acquired a vast track of hilly forest land in a God forsaken place called Kansbahal in the tribal heartland of Sundergarh district in Orissa. Kansbahal was about twenty five kilometers towards Bombay from the steel city called Rourkela.

Our unit was sandwiched between the Calcutta-Bombay main railway lines on one side and the Calcutta-Bombay national highway on the other. Workers’ colony, called South colony was relatively big and was near the railway lines. The factory was situated just after the south colony. The officers’ colony was called North colony and was on the other side of the factory, near the highway and was having hardly fifty bungalows.

Most of the carnivores, except jackals and a few friendly neighborhoods wolves left the area when the factory was being set up, due to the destruction of the habitat. However, snakes and scorpions were not wiling to give up and were putting up a spirited fight! The whole set up was very picturesque but danger lurked after every sunset. Till late night during the full moon period, we used to hear the faint melody of tribal folk songs accompanied by the haunting beats of madal (tribal drums). There were occasional reports of human sacrifice during the sowing season which, however, could never be confirmed.

If we are now unsatisfied with our poor infrastructure, it was simply non-existent in Kansbahal during the later part of the sixties.

After spending six months in south colony during our probation, five of us had just moved into two adjacent bungalows in the north colony. As you entered the north colony from the national highway you would be quite impressed by a wide concrete road with perpendicular arterial roads on both the sides flanked by bungalows. On the furthest end of the first perpendicular road to the right was our club, the sole entertainment facility in our colony. Our bungalows were just behind the club.

That particular day we were a little sad since Ajit had submitted his resignation and we all went to the club to douse our sorrow. Ajit, Amlan and Santosh were only occasional drinkers and were soon in a different world after a few glasses of beer. Sumit and I were sitting on the two extreme ends of the bar table and were still in our senses being teetotalers and had just finished our eighth bottle of Coca-Cola!

Suddenly I was startled with a gruff voice from behind “Good Evening, Mr. Sengupta”. I slowly turned and was surprised to see the smiling face of Mr. Muralidas, our estate manager!
“Good Evening, Mr. Muralidas” I replied, still in a state of sock.

We were not in best of terms. Some how or other, Muralidas would always give us a raw deal whenever he could. We would also fight it out with the active support of our bosses. We were a constant source of headache for each other.

“May I just have a couple of minutes with you, Mr. Sengupta?” said Mr. Muralidas almost apologetically.
“Sure” I said while moving out to a nearby sofa, still wondering about his intention.
“It is sad that we are loosing Mr. Mandal” said Mr. Muralidas while seating on a sofa opposite mine.
I didn’t utter anything, knowing full well that condolence could not be his main agenda.
“Mr. Sengupta, I have a proposal” said Mr. Muralidas after a swig at his glass.
I was alarmed! “It couldn’t be Deepika! She is too young. Anyway Muralidas would never select me as his son-in-law, unless he believes in those funny scientific theory of opposite poles attracts and would like to postulate that for human relationships as well!” I almost thought aloud.
“As you know, we are having a serious shortage of bungalows. We had to accommodate you in bigger bungalows since bungalows for you, I mean for junior engineers, are not yet ready. We are now having a lot of requests for these bungalows for family accommodation” said Muralidas taking another swig from his glass.
I was tense but still did not utter a word. My less than average brain was doing overtime to read his thoughts.
“At the same time there is a large bungalow lying vacant for quite sometime. I wonder whether you and Santosh would be interested in moving in there” said Muralidas.
“Which one?” I asked tentatively.
“On the first row, second from the right as you enter the club road” said Muralidas in an even tone.
“You mean the haunted house?” I exclaimed!

The bungalow he mentioned was one of the best bungalows in our colony. Long before we joined, the then chief accountant Mr. Gurubox Sahani used to stay there along with his family. He retired from the service and the day he was supposed to leave for his home town, he died suddenly of a heart attack. It was the first death in our colony and he was cremated on the bank of Brahmani river nearby. Death was quite normal but the timing was very unusual. Company then converted that bungalow into an extension of the guesthouse. The first guest was one Mr. Antia from our head office at Bombay. Nothing happened till the evening. But the next day Mr. Antia was found in a state of shock and was shifted to guesthouse proper. It was rumored that Mr. Antia heard some unusual sound on the rooftop and was under the opinion that it was Mr. Gurubox Sahani’s spirit! Since then nobody stayed in that bungalow and slowly it got the dubious status of a haunted house. Anybody taking the club road after the sunset used to pass that stretch very quickly without looking at that bungalow.

“You are young engineers from IIT. I don’t think you believe in all that nonsense. Do you?” he asked sheepishly, working on my male ego.
“Why don’t you move in?” I challenged him.
“I would love to” he said with pseudo boldness “but you know your Bhabi (sister-in-law) is, unfortunately, very superstitious. More over Deepika is so young” he added, pricking my sentiment.

I could understand that Muralidas wanted to outsource the dirty work of throwing us out to a ghost. If we were killed it would be all the more better. At the same time I was quite tempted about that bungalow. I was sure that there was no chance of our staying in such bungalows in coming ten years. I had to only convince Santosh which I was sure I could.

“See, it is a very difficult decision. Let me talk to Santosh when he is in a good mood. Give me a few days time” I replied with an impassive face.

“Oh, sure. Take your time” said Muralidas. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to convince Santosh even if he tried turning cartwheels or belly dancing. [To be continued]