Shadows of Memory: A Ghostly Odyssey

As my readers know, I have an assistant called Babulal. Long back he brought one diary which he got from a raddiwala.

The diary

,......

It was dark,I was sitting alone by the side of Ganges in my home town, Chandan Nagar. Hearing someone approaching,I turned back and found a man with many photo frames.

He was giving ghosts on hire,he asked whether I wanted one. He showed me the pictures framed,he informed me those are pictures of dead people and now available as ghosts. I asked him what use those ghosts will be for me. He informed me these ghosts can help me in finding things lost in the past through their ghost chain. Also he informed me that I can take one on rent. Simply I have to take the photo frame. I asked if I could keep it for a day to try. He agreed against 1000 rupees. I took the frame to our 150 years old ancestral house. My wife was out of station with her office colleagues so I thought it was the best time to use it. In the night I asked the ghost to find out my higher secondary certificate which I was not able to locate in my Delhi house. Next day it was on my table,faster than FedEx. I rang up the ghost renter and requested him to allow me to keep the frame for a week. I transferred money to him as rent for a week.

As I continued to explore the capabilities of the ghost, I began to realise its potential went beyond just finding lost items. The ghost seemed to have a unique connection to the past, allowing me glimpses into forgotten memories and untold stories. One day, while searching for my misplaced childhood journal, the ghost led me to a hidden room in my house that I never knew existed. Inside, I discovered a collection of old letters, photographs, and a dusty typewriter.

On the roller of the typewriter there was a typed letter which read,

“If you wish I can alter your past but your present will remain the same “

I knew immediately that the letter had been written by the ghost.

I thought deeply about the proposal. It was a kind of catch 22 situation, he can change some of my past events but the present will remain the same.So my financial wealth,my health,my family ,my position in society will remain the same even if he alters my past.

 Contemplating further, I considered the option of erasing painful memories, preserving only the pleasant ones. However, this meant forgetting dear ones who were no longer present—a compromise I couldn't accept. In the tapestry of aging, both sweet and painful memories are treasures; nostalgia, a means of mental transport. Erasing a significant part of my memory seemed akin to walking with vision limited to the illuminated, oblivious to the dark.

I returned the photo frame after keeping it for a week.

When I shared my experience with my friends then they in turn shared with others. I started getting phone call from various people like doctors, lawyers, businessman, accountants etc . May be they want to alter some of their dubious records !

The invisible helper

Title: "The Invisible Helper"

Once upon a time, in a cozy flat nestled in a quiet neighborhood, lived a man named Robert. Robert was known in his circle as a solitary soul, as he preferred the peace and solitude of his flat. However, something quite extraordinary was happening in Robert's life.

Robert had a peculiar sensation that an unseen presence inhabited his home. It wasn't a sinister or unsettling feeling; rather, it was comforting and mysterious. He felt as though someone was watching over him.

One day, he discovered the most astonishing aspect of this invisible helper. Robert had a medical condition that required him to take daily medication. Occasionally, he would forget, but every time he did, the medication mysteriously appeared right beside him, as if placed by an invisible hand. It was as though an ethereal caretaker was making sure he didn't miss his doses.

As time passed, more instances of the invisible helper's assistance became evident. When Robert awoke from slumber, disoriented and searching for his medication, it was always there, neatly placed on the nightstand. Even when he misplaced his almirah key, he would later find it exactly where he had forgotten it.

Robert began to share his experiences with his friends, hoping to understand the phenomenon. To his surprise, they dismissed it as temporary dementia and advised him to install CCTV cameras in his flat to put his imagination to rest.

Intrigued by the idea of unveiling the mystery, Robert decided to install CCTV cameras throughout his home. He placed them strategically to capture any movement and waited eagerly for the results.

As days turned into weeks, the footage revealed no visible intruder or evidence of his mysterious helper. Robert started to question his own sanity. Had he imagined the whole thing?

One evening, while reviewing the CCTV footage, he saw a peculiar occurrence. The footage showed Robert entering his flat, struggling to find his medication, and then, miraculously, the medication bottle lifted into the air and placed itself gently on the nightstand. It was as if an invisible hand had intervened.

Robert was awestruck. His invisible helper wasn't a product of his imagination but a real presence in his life. He realized that there was more to the world than met the eye, and he had a unique guardian watching over him.

With this newfound knowledge, Robert continued to live in his flat, embracing the enigmatic presence that had become an integral part of his life. The invisible helper remained by his side, a silent companion that ensured his well-being and added a touch of magic to his everyday life.

And so, the story of Robert and his invisible helper became a tale of mystery and wonder, reminding us that sometimes, the unexplained can be a source of comfort and fascination in our lives.

Haunting shadows of friendship

I got down at that small station from the narrow gauge train. I had boarded that train from Katwa. It was raining heavily , it was windy. The windows of the compartment were kept open so that the wind can blow through or otherwise the train might get toppled by the high velocity blast.The rain drenched wind was freely blowing through the compartment. I had come prepared with rain coat, but it was not a comfortable journey.

The gentleman sitting next to me also went on badgering me on all kinds of odd topics. "Do you believe in god?'" “Yes," i said. "Do you believe in ghost?'' " I really don't know.Some nights i get this strange feeling as though some one is there in my room,especially in weathers like this and open fields make me feel apprehensive.As though something bad is going to happen." That man sighed and said, " I was getting this strange eerie feeling so i started this conversation with you.I too believe in god and that nearness to HIM keeps me strong." He started chanting Gayatri Mantra. The dim light of the compartment with only two of us and the incessant rain , his talk about God and ghost started giving me goose pimples. I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep. He got the hint and did not disturb me any further.

 It was pitch dark and the rain was continuing,after getting down from the train i waited for sometime in the shed but there was no sign of rain getting eased. The small station had a tin shed as office cum booking counter. The diesel engine blew whistle and chugged out of the station,no other passenger had got down. I did not wait for the rain to stop, walked out of the station.

 There was only one solitary cycle rickshaw , i took that and directed him to take me to Bamun para. The road near the station was tar topped but after a while it was gravel road and quite slushy because of the rain. When i came to know that Ajit had come back from USA and was settled in his village house then i made this plan to visit him, at least i could escape from my routine mechanical life for a few days. We were out of touch for more than 30 years but then a mutual friend informed me about his coming back. 

When we were in college then i used to go to his village regularly to enjoy the village life away from the bustling crowd of Calcutta. I had informed him about my coming on that day, after finishing my official work at Katwa and took that narrow gauge train.

 There were no street light and added to that there was a load shedding, the houses by the side of the road were sparsely lighted by candles or hurricane lamps. After travelling for about 15 minutes I could locate his sprawling house easily , nothing much had changed in that village, some of the thatched roofed houses had become pucca , telephone and electrical poles along the roads were the new addition to usher in modernity. I got down near the gate , paid the rickshaw fellow. 

Ajit was standing with a lantern and umbrella . I could see his long shadow, he was not visible fully because of the rain and umbrella. He waived at me. I shuffled towards him in raincoat with my overnighter in hand.He was in kurta pajama, still his face was not visible. We walked fast towards the portico to avoid the splashing rain.It was double storied old patterned house with high ceiling. The drawing room or the baithak khana was in the ground floor with guest room , dinning room and kitchen. We entered the drawing room and then i could see him closely in the light of lantern as the load shedding was still continuing. I was amazed to see that he was still a strapping 30 years old as i had seen him last. Here i was more than 60 years of age with almost all hair fallen, pot bellied and there he was standing without the ravage of time. I was nonplused , he was giving me his usual mysterious smile. Without any talk he led me to the guest room, i was familiar with that room as i used to stay there whenever i was coming with him to this house.The rain was still continuing and there was no scope of electricity getting resumed, probably there was a fault.There were heavy lightning strikes, the atmosphere was charged and the old house gave me feeling of a haunted house. 

Ajit left the room quietly, there was a lantern near the bed. While removing the rain coat i started getting eerie feeling, the whole ambience was unnatural.There was no light, heavy rain and the most stunning thing was Ajit had not aged. I was also surprised that he had not spoken a word. There was sound of the falling rain and croaking of frogs. A thermo flask was kept on the table, with cups and saucers by its side.I poured myself a cup of hot tea and started analysing the situation logically. There i was in my friends palatial house where the only soul i met was my friend and who had not aged, looked like a 30 years old lad when he was actually more than 60 years of age.I knew that his wife died long back but then where were the servants? I started getting goose pimples. All sorts of queer ideas were running riot in my subconscious mind. Why did he leave me alone without even exchanging pleasantries? There was a surrealistic atmosphere all around.Was that really Ajit or his ghost.The age of a ghost of a known person depends on at what age one had seen him last.He was 30 years old when i last saw him and he looked the same now.I had this premonition that something bad had happened to Ajit, the destiny had brought me there to unravel some mystery.

As such i was quite tired after that arduous journey in that rickety narrow gauge train , that philosophical talk with that unknown gentleman in the train , the journey by the rickshaw in that heavy rain and on the top of that this shocker of non aging of Ajit made me feel dizzy.I lied down on the bed. The door was open, i found some shadows moving around.The lantern light had dimmed. I tried to get up but could not, as though i was riveted to the bed. Those faceless shadows started hovering around my bed.Suddenly all of them were looking like young Ajit, they all tried to pull me out of the bed.I tried to cringe to the bed. I could not fight against their combined force.I was bodily lifted from the bed. I got up with a start and found the room lighted. 

The power had resumed and an elderly man was holding my hand.Then i realized that i was having a nightmare and that gentleman holding my hand had woken me up. "Hey Samar get up my friend." "Who are you?" I stammered. "Me,Ajit yar." I looked closely at him and found my friend Ajit in him. He had put on weight and had grayed like me. "Sorry, i could not be there when you arrived. I had gone to the market with my servant. Then this heavy rain and power failure delayed my coming home.By that time you had arrived.I left tea for you in that flask. Oh, i see you have taken tea."

 "What about that young man who looked exactly like you when you were young? He received me, but did not utter a word.' 

"He is my son Parimal, yes he looks like me .His appearance has surprised many of my old friends. He looks like younger version of me. Unfortunately he is deaf and dumb. He is a good boy but a bit shy. You look shaken, what's wrong?" 

"Oh, that explains everything." I said guiltily. "Come, let us have some drink before the dinner, you look pretty shaken." Ajit said smilingly.

 I did not explain him the thoughts of my fertile mind under that extraordinary circumstances.I was still recovering from the shock.

Carrot and stick

Carrot and stick

In one of my management articles I had mentioned my experience of watching tiger, lion and seal games in a circus in Russia where the trainer did not carry any electrically charged whip like the ring masters used to do in Indian circuses when animal games were allowed.

We used to watch the trainer would wield the whip in the air and it will make a crackling sound of static electricity and hearing that sound tiger or lion which ever animal then present in the arena will cower and start obeying the master.

In Russia the ringmaster does not carry any whip but instead after a performance he pats the animal and gives a piece of meat as reward.

The practice followed by managers in the industry is either one of the above.

Having said all of the above in recent few times while dealing with a third party I discovered that the policy of stick with Indian establishment workers is more effective.

Recently I attended a picnic where a mike holding roly poly lady was anchoring the games. We were clustered around a table and was having our own fun of gabbing. Then I heard her announcing to bring forward all the tables so that lunch could be served. We brought our table forward. After sometimes she announced that the caterer for their convenience wanted us to align our tables. This was too much, I came to my original BHEL form and called the caterer and said, “ How do they serve in restaurants? The tables are placed separately so do that without wasting time.”

My that intervention worked like a magic and they started serving in the same order as we were seated and no more shifting.

Last week with my IIT mates we went to this renowned restaurant in Salt Lake for lunch. We were 12 and they put 2 tables where 4 usually share and squeezed 4 chairs to make it a 12 sitting arrangement. I noticed that with this arrangement there was hardly any room for moving elbows for holding cutleries. I told the host that this would not do. I called the bearer and asked him to make proper arrangement, he expressed his inability. I asked him to call his manager and the manager came,in my usual style I chewed him for the arrangement and asked him better he did a proper arrangement or I would give bad review in Google and TripAdvisor. It worked like a magic and he got the sitting arrangement redone by organizing a 3^rd table.

I generally don’t want to use this third degree but is compelled to do due to the circumstances, with known people I use the motivation method but if required I go back to the old proven method of screwing.

The third alternative could be to accept whatever way you are dealt as the only way, bear it with a smile.