Ludhiana Diaries by Ramit Gulati
Arjun remained silent for a few minutes, vacillating on whether to tell her about the incident or not. At last he decided in favor of the former, his typically hard features softening under the caresses of the evening breeze as he began to narrate his story.
“This goes back a year and a half, when one night I was hovering over the Jagraon Bridge, keeping myself amused by watching the influx of the traffic in to the city from the Jalandhar side, when all of a sudden a distress signal issued itself forth upon my map. The dot was blinking very rapidly, and so at once I knew that this was a case of a suicide attempt. I hurried forth to the site from where the signal had originated, and there I saw in a room a man about to hang himself from a hook in the ceiling. Quickly I acted, and with a little ruse and a little wit, as is common to us ghosts, I managed to switch the rope he was going to use with a defected one, so that when this man tried to hang himself from the fan, the rope snapped, and thus I was able to save his life.”
“I kept vigil for the rest of the night to make sure that no more suicide attempts were made by him, and fortunately none were. So considering the first attempt to be borne out of some dark impulse, which he seemed to have overcome now, I left him in the morning, reckoning the case to be closed.”
“But to my great surprise, I received another distress signal a couple of nights later, and once again it was this very same man, this time around trying to kill himself by swallowing a whole bottle of morphine pills. Once more I was able to save him, by surreptitiously swapping his morphine pills with sugar ones, but I knew then, that whatever it was that was troubling his conscience and pressing him in to these suicide attempts, was bound to strike again sooner or later.”
“So for the next whole week I shadowed him, trying to find the source of his troubles, but what I discovered was so strange that it baffled me completely. This man was not making those suicide attempts because of any great grief in his life; rather he wanted to end his life because he was too curious about death! A great curiosity to see what followed life was exhorting him to end it himself, through those suicide attempts, it sought immediate satiation.”
“Confounded by this unusual conundrum, there were no quick solutions that occurred to my mind on how to stop this man from committing any further suicide attempts. All I could do then was to wait for the time when his next suicide attempt would come, and then go to him and prevent it once again. In this manner, a whole year passed, in which I checked him in more than a dozen of these attempts, still, he showed no signs of abating.”
“And it was then that an idea occurred to me, and it seemed like a good idea at that time. I began to enter his dreams, and there I started painting him bleak and harrowing pictures of what awaited him after death. For a couple of weeks, I tortured him with those dreams, hoping in the process to dissuade him from his silly idea of suicide.”
“And it worked, as since then he has made no more attempts to kill himself,” Arjun grimaced, the orange hue at the western horizon turning to a deep red one as the sun sank itself further behind those steeples.
“So it…worked?” Roshni asked somewhat confused, only to see Arjun broodingly shake his head.
“The fear I used to dissuade him from suicide weighs so heavy on his mind now that he had stopped living altogether. I turned him in to a shell of a person, who cringes in death’s dread in his every waking hour. To summarize, I fucked it up, I fucked it up big time.”
After Arjun finished telling his story, both of them sat in disquieting silence for a while, the red hue of the western sky gradually changing to a dull grey as the sun fully disappeared down the horizon. Roshni wished that she could provide some sort of solution to his problem, but even she was left completely perplexed after hearing his tale.
In life there are some intricacies which despite all their powers even the ghosts of a city fail to disentangle. Perhaps the only thing one can do then is to look up to the heavens and wait for an answer to be delivered from there.
*******
In the past six hours Raj had watched the video of Meeta’s conversation with Shivani more than fifty times but still he felt as incredulous towards it as he had when watching it the very first time.
Now after having looked at it so many times, instead of recognizing and appreciating Meeta’s love for him, instead of accepting and admitting his own feelings for her, instead of just running to that girl and sweeping her up in his arms, he unfortunately rather got caught up in doubting and questioning the very motive of the video altogether.
He was much like a nomad, who had been wandering in an arid desert for eons and eons, and now when he had at last come across an oasis, rather than entering it and partaking of the sweet life giving waters and the delightful fruits that lay there in abundance, stood at a distance, rubbing his eyes in disbelief at the very presence of the oasis, debating its very existence and attributing the lovely image he saw of it to some form of a mirage.
An agitated Raj had thus stayed in his room this whole time, continuously pacing the length and breadth of his little abode as he grappled with the numerous anxieties and doubts plaguing his mind. Late in to the evening he was still dealing with the ceaseless turmoil of his thoughts, when there occurred a sudden knocking on the door of his room. On opening it he found Meeta standing at the threshold, dressed in a simple white kurti and a pair of blue jeans, smiling at him somewhat nervously through her round black eyes.
“May I come in?” she asked softly and he immediately stepped aside to let her in. Why was she here? Was she here to see whether or not her video had the desired effect on him?
“Meeta, what is going on?” Raj quickly began, without any forethought towards the consequences of his words. “I mean, what is all this? Don’t you think this is so childish of you guys? Shivani I can understand, but you too?”
“What is childish?” Meeta asked, not sure why Raj was so stirred up. She had only come here to discuss with him the video she had received of the conversation between him and Amar, where he had talked of the notions that barred him from engaging himself emotionally with others. She thought it was important that she helped him get rid of his skewed perspective about the world as well as her own self.
“Don’t act all ignorant now. I am talking about the video Shivani sent me. Here it is,” Raj shot back, as he pulled out his phone and played for her the incriminating video. “What explanation do you have for this huh?” he questioned her, his corrosive tone conveying his sharp disapproval.
As Meeta watched that video, it began to elucidate the whole situation for her. This was clearly a plan hatched by Shivani and Amar to get her and Raj together. She thought of it as quite silly and was rather amused at the stunt that the two of them had pulled. However Raj apparently did not see it in the same light, as was evident from his exasperation, but why out of all people was he asking her for an explanation about it left Meeta feeling somewhat dumbfounded at first, but that was until a few more seconds of reflection on her part caused his reasons to dawn on her mind.
“So you think this is me attempting to entrap you in a relationship?” Meeta asked, though there was not any anger in her voice. She only felt sorry for him at that moment, seeing that his cynicism had benumbed and embittered him to the last vein in his body. “I think you should take a look at this before I say anything further to you,” And she played the second of the videos for Raj, quietly watching the emotions on his face change from anger to firstly shock and ultimately guilt by the time it finished.
“It was Amar and Shivani,” he mumbled his realization to himself, overwhelmed immediately by contrition for the ludicrous accusation he had made at Meeta. His eyes now turned apologetically towards her. “Meeta I ..I..”
“No, do not say anything Raj, it is my turn to have a say now. I can understand that you have had some bitter experiences in the past and it makes you see people in a negative light, but if everyone is bad as you say, then you must be too, for what is the probability that there is ju
“Just think about what I have said to you and one more thing, please don’t go and make similar accusations against Amar and Shivani. You will not only ruin for them the memory of their wedding, but end up embittering your relationship with them too.”
And then she simply walked out of that room, leaving Raj to mull over the rights and the wrongs of the pessimism and distrust he had let percolate his heart in the recent years, ones which had left it such a barren and desolate place.
*******
The derelict and discolored building located near the city’s busiest square-Ghanta Ghar Chowk, which used to serve as the main office of the municipal birth and death department, is now just an abandoned structure with nothing but numerous shelves of old and begrimed files filling its rooms.
On one of these shelves lay an old telephone directory with a faded cover and dog eared pages, asleep under a cover of dust, as if in the middle of a winter hibernation. But with a purpose to disturb it in its repose, there arrived the ghost of freedom, who had reached the room in which it was located after passing through a series of patchy and fungous infested walls.
After putting the lantern he was carrying for illumination down in one of the corners, he went to take the thick book out of its resting place and placed it on a nearby termite infested table. The heavy book landed on it with a dull thud, the impact causing a puff of dust to rise from the table top while causing its hoary legs to creak in anguish.
“Rupam Parivartnam,” uttered Vibhuti, with both his palms extended towards the directory.
Suddenly its pages began to hoick themselves out of its bindings, one after the other with a rapid fluttery sound, and within a few moments, all these pages, now separated from each other, were floating up above the head of Vibhuti.
And then they began to re-form themselves, exchanging their words with each other, breaking up words and re-arranging the letters obtained to form new words, disintegrating some words down to mere black specks, and then arranging these specks to form pictures, all in all, it was like one hugely complex kaleidoscope that would seem to an on-looker as if utter chaos and rioting had taken over the world of the words.
Once the reformation was complete, the pages rapidly moved back to the table, one atop the other before binding themselves together again, thus completing the metamorphosis of the telephone directory in to a completely different book, one with a velvety maroon cover upon which its name was inscribed in golden calligraphy, ‘Bhoot-Sanchar’ it was called.
It was a book used for communication with the ghosts living in the higher realms. Within it were columns, each carrying the name and picture of the ghost to whom it was allocated, underneath which was provided blank space for jotting down the message one wished to convey to its owner.
Vibhuti began to search busily through the pages of this book, and soon enough found the column he was looking for. He then made a pen appear in his hand before he scribbled down the message he needed to convey.
“Need help with a case. Come as soon as possible.”
Just as he had finished jotting it down, his eyes suddenly noticed the presence of a silhouette lurking in one of the murky corners of the room.
The sight of it alarmed him at once! What if it was a mortal hiding there, what if he had witnessed the magical metamorphosis of the directory? How was he to deal with the tumult that would arise from such a situation?
He found himself growing quite anxious at this flurry of questions scuttling through his mind, but then a familiar gruff voice issued itself forth from that corner and allayed his fears.
“Do not be alarmed, it is me, Jai Prakash,” The ghost of contentment stepped in to the light, his powdery white form as usual dressed in a three-piece English suit which looked starkly incongruous to these dingy surroundings.
“I apologize for the unceremonious entrée’ but I have a most urgent issue to discuss with you, one that could not have been delayed to later,” he announced as he adjusted the bow around his neck, giving Vibhuti a second or two to soak in his words before he resumed with them. “It has been communicated to me today in my capacity as the representative of the seven ghosts of Ludhiana, that you, Vibhuti Lal, the ghost of freedom broke one of the ethereal laws this afternoon, by interfering with the functioning of the Angel of death. A grave offense, one you have been guilty of several times in the past too, for which you have also received multiple admonitions. Keeping that in view, it is conveyed to you that this is your final warning in the matter. Any more similar infractions on your part in the future shall lead to severe consequences that can even include the stripping of your status as the ghost of freedom,” he decreed, without any emotions or bias in his voice, his manner at all times official and statesman like.
“Do you Sir have any response that you wish for me to convey to the council on this particular matter?” he next asked, only to see Vibhuti smile and shake his head in response.
“Very well then,” and he took off his glasses, carefully examining their frames for a second or two before putting them back on and turning his gaze back towards the offender.
“The message has been conveyed to you, on January the 27th, 2014, at 8:17 PM with an offset of 2% on either side, and so I will leave you in peace. Good bye,” And suddenly he vanished off in to the same dark corner from where he had come forth.
Vibhuti meanwhile continued to smile in amusement, not at all perturbed by the just received warning. The council was in a habit of getting its kicks by sending these warnings to ghosts all the time, but the verbal admonitions were seldom followed with any concrete action.
Overcoming the momentary distractions, he went back to look in to the Bhoot Sanchar and was glad to see that the words he wrote in there had disappeared, meaning that his message had been seen by the recipient.
*******
The next afternoon, the Surana household, like any other house that hosts a wedding, was bustling and bubbling in a great whirl of activity.
In the verandah up front were the halwais, preparing lunch for the guests in gargantuan cauldrons, in one of the rooms at the back were the ladies, looking at the fancy Suits and Sarees that Mrs. Surana had bought as Vari for the bride, in another room were the men, indulged in an exciting game of rummy, while in the main hall were the young ones, playing Antakshri to the music of a guitar and beats of a dholki.
Nalini was also a part of one of the teams playing Antakshri, but at the moment her attentions were invested less in the game and more in the young man that was playing the guitar, a handsome youth who was some distant cousin of the groom from the father’s side. Over the whole of last evening and this morning, the young man had impressed quite a few damsels with his impressive persona and his guitar skills, and our Nalini, like a few other girls that were presently sitting there in the hall, had developed a bit of a crush on him.
And so with half mesmerized eyes she kept staring amorously at that young man for what must have been quite a long time, and would have continued to do so, if she was not at that moment distracted out of her romantic imaginations by the interrupting hand of her brother Mohit shaking her by the shoulder.
“What is it?” she asked him in a bit of an annoyed voice, clearly not welcoming the disturbance.
“Family meeting, now,” her brother told her simply, and then stepped away.
Although Nalini did not want to leave the hall at that moment, for reasons that are now obvious to
“Okay, what is the matter?” Nalini said immediately after entering the room, looking to hasten the proceedings so that she could get back out to the hall sooner.
“At least close the door first, there is so much noise coming in of these songs,” her mother advised, at which Nalini quickly closed the door.
“So what I had been wanting is for your father to talk to Uma,” her mother began the discussion. “At least it will clear things up a little.”
“Are yaar, how can I go and ask her that directly, you do not ask people such things. Hey there guys, have you decided yet on who is going to be the Sarbala in this wedding? Any chance it could be my little son?” her father remonstrated, his usual reaction to any suggestions made by her mother.
“Well I don’t see anything wrong with that. Uma is your sister, a brother ought to be able to discuss things like this with his sister,” her mother shot back.
“Offo..now you guys just start arguing again, that is just the solution to our problem, isn’t it?” interjected Nalini, not wanting her mother and father to break out in to another one of their customary long winded debates, especially now when she wanted things to come to their conclusion rather quickly. “Just go Dad, ask her once, it will at least lift this suspense,” she suggested to her father.