Uma desperately wants to meet a ghost.
It was with much confidence that Uma strode into the library and demanded for the paperback edition of the “Exorcist”. The library uncle by now quite used to having this ten year old read such thick English books was not as perturbed as he should have been. If he only knew of the contents! He was just another employee of the Indian Air Force doing this dreadfully boring chore of lending reading material to its Officers and sometimes to their families, who did not like to miss their James Hardley Chases even in far flung Kumbigram. He was not well versed in the colonial tongue nor did he pretend otherwise. Uma had time and again given him a list in her neat handwriting, urging him to improve his and his wards’ intellect.
“Recommendations for the Officer’s Mess Library, Kumbigram”, comprised of names of books which she thought were more appropriate for adults. They seemed to be doing much harm to their own intelligence by reading such…such…she had no word to describe her disgusted feelings, yet. Having recently learned to write official letters she put it to good use, with date and place on the right side and her name and address on the left, with appropriate commas, punctuation and other such relevant information, as and when necessary. Such as the opening which said - “to whomsoever it may concern” – which to Uma seemed a little remote but if this is what might get someone’s (whomsoever’s) attention, so be it!
“But beta thirty books is a lot no?” Uncle seemed sincere in wanting to pass on this note to ‘whomsoever’ but was worried about the bloating budget. “kuch kam karo, make it ten books, haan?”
“fifteen” Uma is firm but disappointed. Men with no interest in reading ought not to be in charge of others’ reading. She also likes to bargain hard, a skill she has learnt from her shopping savvy mother who has had to stretch her husband’s measly monthly salary from the government of India, to put up a glamorous front in the officer’s camp. With two daughters it is getting tougher but better. Meanwhile the daughters acquire some of her skill.
“dekho beta, ten is a small and simple number, we should not get greedy” Uncle is perspiring in the humid aftermath of a thunderstorm. The sky is darkening, it is only four in the afternoon but the birds are returning to roost and the cries of the jackals and civet cats receding. For Uma this is her favourite hour when the crimson purple hues of the horizon spell a future of fortune. Her desires are few but intense. Fulfilling them would never pose a problem. Alpasantoshi her mother calls her. Someone who is happy with little.
“theek hai Uncleji, when will ‘whomsoever’ reply?” Being happy with little meant that all your energies are highly concentrated on that little bit!
“pata nahin beta, let us see” This beta business irked Uma. Why couldn’t he just say beti? He knew she was a girl didn’t he? Though her mother had warned her time and again “not to behave like a boy”. It was the same in English books. “mankind” they said. As though only men ever existed or mattered.
Would he call MoMo, beti? or Venkat, beti ? Imagine saying “pata nahin beti Darrell …” to a boy, would the boy take it? Why was she expected to accept being addressed as beta instead of a rightful beti. Oof! These problems took away from the small pleasures in life that she was always aiming at.
“I want to borrow Exorcist” she said wearily to him, by this time Uncleji was only too glad to get rid of this pest of a girl who was as somber as she was young. He could never ruffle her hair or pinch her cheeks like he wished to, lacking daughters of his own. She had an air of adult solemnity that scared him and kept him on guard whenever she was around him. He quickly looked for the book she wanted while she hungrily browsed all the magazines, he only wished that she leave him in peace to enjoy his afternoon nap.
No one in this camp read much, except this silly girl. She should be playing or studying or helping her mother in the kitchen. These officers, they did not know how to bring up their daughters. Who would marry them tomorrow? Head filled with unwanted stuff and would they respect any man who knew less than them? Broken marriages. He could see it right before his eyes. Such an earnest girl, if only her mother taught her to go out less and spend more time in the house cleaning, taking care of her younger sister, cooking….and the clothes she wears!! Ten year old girls are not that young. He has noticed other men look at Uma strangely. He feels protective. He wishes he could tell her to be careful. Tell her that books and demanding letters will not bring her happiness in the future. Plus she keeps disappearing into the jungle all by herself. What about the animals? So much danger in the world and this little ten year old…
Uncleji does not do any of the above of course. He is not in the same league as the officers and his concern would be misconstrued as insubordination. Well, anyway, the least he can do is pass on her list of recommended books to the Commanding Officer. The kid could have given the list to her father but she is clever he concedes. Her father would never dream of passing on such a cheeky list by his daughter to his senior!
Uma is already on her way to the jungle. She is so thankful that they live right next to it, in fact right on the ancient elephant route. The wild haathis go on a rampage once in a while, when they discover that their highway has been usurped by some strange creatures, who don’t know their viper from their cobra. Like that night when the elephants' angry cries and destructive dances had made everyone run out of their bashas and take refuge in the mess precincts. It was so exciting! They had unfortunately squished a few snails while running in the dark but she had enjoyed every minute of it. The inky darkness, the thunderstorm, the mad elephants, the crackling snail shells, the worried mothers, the harried fathers. She wishes now that she could have somehow captured those pleasurable moments. Of anxiety and fear, of a thrilling heartbeat which has just managed to escape danger.
That Uma loves the jungle is an understatement. If only there were libraries in the jungle, she would never return to civilization. Today she has the Exorcist in her hand and she cannot wait to go to her favourite spot to read. Any tree that called to her with its shade and promise of a thick trunk sitting right next to a gurgling stream would do. Apparently a few men had died of heart attack when the horror film was screened in Hyderabad, her aunt Vimala who was the bravest in her family had managed to catch a night show, she had also managed to live through it, thereby acquiring quite a solid reputation! She would willingly regale to anyone who asked the story of that fated night but Uma wanted to first read the book for herself and see what the fuss was about.
Uma hopes to attract ghosts by reading about them. Uma as we know by now wants to meet a ghost.
Bhoot, the word in Samskrutam meant a being with no body, it is also the word most commonly used to denote a ghost. A ghost therefore was someone you might have known before, who had died and left the body behind, which was a baggage and a burden anyway. This much was clear. What was not clear was the nature of the ghost. Some could be naughty like Casper, some could be demanding like Betal and would some be so evil as to cause harm to a ten year old in search of the hereafter? Of that she had no prior information nor had had the opportunity to ask.
Her Thaathayya, her guide to all things spiritual and esoteric, had died recently and there was no one who would entertain such unseemly questions without treating her like a baby. Maybe….just maybe his ghost was waiting for her in the jungle? They can surely travel quickly having given up the earth for the skies?? Though from Hyderabad to Silchar might take a while. Even for ghosts. Thaathayya was seventy two when he died you see. Suppose….just suppose she happened to run into his body-less embodiment what would she converse about?
“ela unnavu thaathayya?” no no that would not do, asking ‘how are you’ so soon after a person has died did not seem right. Hmmm maybe a more adult question like
“thaathayya cheDDa bhoothaalu kooDa unTaayaa??” no no that would be too abrupt! Asking if evil ghosts exist too, the first thing after you meet a recently dead man who has been your favourite among all living beings, you asking this, his favourite grandchild…chee chee.
“ neeku akkaDa ela undi?” yes yes this is how she would greet him ‘how is it there for you?’, a very mature question, a curious question, an enquiring question that conveyed her love for him as also broached the broader issue of this world and the Other. He would no doubt take the cue and supply her with more relevant information.
Now the only problem was how was she going to communicate all this? Did ghosts read? Could she write him a letter? Or if they heard human voices should she just speak aloud like an idiot (thank god Venkat or MoMo would not be around to poke fun at her just in case the ghost was silent) Plus he was not extra-terrestrial, he was disembodied, how would she spot him? She fervently wishes that her Thaathayya has turned into ET and not a ghost. It would make everything simple and also put the boys in place. Imagine the news “Did you hear? Uma’s grandfather is now an ET” and how that would affect her sagging popularity. Off late the boys took to staring at her for no reason and talking among themselves, ghus-phussing. She always knew she couldn’t trust these fellows. Friends they called themselves. Traitors.
Along with this increasing dislike for the male gender Uma was beginning to loathe her school and its curriculum more and more. How come they did not teach the basic etiquettes of conversing with paranormal beings? Surely in a land full of myths and mythologies one was bound to come across such ethereal beings in one’s lifetime. Shouldn’t the schools prepare the children for such a momentous event? After all what better knowledge can there be had than interacting with those who have made it to another sphere, another dimension. If the Convents were to be blamed with their emphasis on brotherly love and Jesus then the Kendriya Vidyalayas fared no better with innumerable national integration songs being taught to tone deaf couldn’t-care-less children at the cost of some real time education.
Pancha Bhootas as her Thaathayya had told her, Earth, Water, Fire, Air and Ether were but manifestations of Shakti. She was the feminine energy of the male Purusha, who like all men was lazy and left the workings of the world to the women, so he rested in the Hiranyagarbha while she slogged to make the world an interesting place to be. All that we saw around us, all the living creatures, especially the tiniest to tiny ones were effulgent beings suffused with the light of the Paramatma: angushTamaatrah. The ultimate energy existed in all of us, the size of a thumb he had said. Closed and Cold. Till we enabled it, opened the door to let the warmth within and without. Once that was done, there would be no you nor me, he had said.
Well now he was gone and his thumb sized soul had gone with him or had it? Uma pondered about the residue of a human body after cremation. What remained and what did not? If his soul had remained eternal then of course he was free to traverse the land, in this case the air, as he pleased. By virtue of having opened his heart with warmth, he was like a saint they all said, his soul would undoubtedly recognize his own manavaraalu wouldn’t it? She might not need to speak after all. Though if a soul was now universal would it care if she was once his dead body’s granddaughter?
Simple facts can be perplexing if we have no one to guide us. It was like Mathematics. How she ran away from numbers. They chased her in her dreams, fraction us! divide us! subtract us! they shouted raucously at her. She ran and ran till she found succour in words. Words gave her protection, a safe haven from numbers. They created a wall between her and other worlds ensuring her safety as well her superiority. It was lonely in this castle sometimes but thankfully numbers were kept at bay. Off late though she had begun to befriend numbers gingerly after being coaxed by her numbers loving Nanna and she was beginning to kind of appreciate them, a little.
Similarly, she thinks, I can get to understand a ghost better if I am introduced to it properly. Now who in this world would be most qualified for it? Other ghosts of course!! Who are the other dead people you know apart from your Grandfather Uma? Quick! Nandi uncle. Walia uncle. Bas. Bas? Three dead people in the span of a year and you are not yet ten Uma. This is the experience of a lifetime. Many children might just grow up without Death ever touching them. How limiting for a life so ill spent. A life devoid of human pain and sadness. How were such creatures expected to appreciate better the well of human happiness without the necessary grounding in Life’s lessons?
Thus she walked our Uma, thinking, pondering, debating within herself the ills of the education system she had so far encountered to the incomprehensibility of male behaviour evident visibly in her erstwhile pals. She entered the muddy path fearlessly having done this many a time before but never with an Exorcist in hand. Would the ‘beings’ mark her as an easy target now, now that she carried a desire to confront them?
Leeches she could manage. There was salt in her pockets. A bit yucky to look at when they had had their fill of your blood but they dropped off as quickly with a pinch of salt. Never pull them, her Amma had warned her as did all mothers to their brats, who sometimes did and sometimes didn’t. Vipers, Uma should look out for, the other day one flew right past her mother and had almost got her in the eye but for Sawant uncle’s presence of mind. These ones lived on rooftops and trees. Sleek, green and poisonous. It was months past the Haathi time, they didn’t move about much in monsoon and it was too much day light for Leopards to be prowling. That left the Tigers if there were any left in these parts, after all the shikaar and hunting that the Rajahs, Englishmen and their imitators indulged in. Every Officer’s Mess in this valley, every Tea Gardens Club boasted a few prized heads, skins, trophies and triumphant photographs.
Tigers she would have to deal with. She had no doubt that if faced with one she would try and be like Brother Francis or Rishi Kanva whom every wild creature loved because they meant no harm and oozed peace from every pore. The key was not to be scared since animals can smell it even before the human can exude it! The trouble was in keeping fear away. Already she was trembling at the very thought of facing a tiger…eesh! Such a coward with such lofty ideals. Reading books by Jim Corbett hardly prepared anyone to walk into a jungle alone, unarmed. She only hoped that the Tiger she might meet was not female, pregnant or with cubs, they would be the most difficult to deal with. With male Tigers she might yet be able to use her feminine charms. A sweet smile maybe to return a roar? Unless the Tiger was a man-eater. Should she hold him to task and say “Shera keep away you are not a woman-eater are you?” ? All that worked in Amar Chitra Kathas where animals spoke and humans conversed with them.
She had walked this path before but not so deep into the jungle and not with a hardcovered heavy Exorcist under her arm. Uma began to panic. There were ghosts to be dealt with too. And men. Amma had warned of strange men. Oh! God! Why wasn’t she at home doing percentages. Every tree, its branches and whooshing leaves seemed to be looming large over her, entrapping her. The ferns some dried some wet with rain seemed to entangle her every step. The bird song insistent until now was quietened by an eerie jungle silence which gave way to insects of unknown origins cackling at her helplessness. Running in any direction would give away her weak soul. She had some pride left, still. She dragged her feet heavy with fear and trepidation to a rock so she could sit down even if for a minute to show the ghosts, tigers, trees, insects, strange men who seemed to be all interested in her that she would not be retreating. Her pounding heart might announce her raw fear but she would not voice it come what may. Not Uma whose father was a bomb disposal expert. Is this how her Nanna felt whenever he diffused a ticking bomb?
Once she had forced herself to sit down deliberately on the hard rock coolness descended on her like a cotton coverlet on a hot summer afternoon. She dare not look behind her, someone could be standing there, making faces, mocking her, wanting to throttle her. Looking up could be dangerous too, a hanging monkey could be a ghost in disguise. It was best to act normal and look into her book till the time it was safe to leave the spot. Meanwhile she would breathe slowly, softly for the fear of disturbing the forest while it took a nap. Uma realized that the biggest mistake she had made today was bringing this book to the forest with her. The first line nor the blurbs at the back were helping her regain faith in the goodness of the world.
She wanted to mouth some shlokas to attract the good beings but here she got stuck. Which god should she invoke? Being a Hindu was so troublesome, here at the time of need she was dilly-dallying about who to pray to! If she were not so scared she would be laughing. Rama she was not too fond of but all the invocations for help seemed to be written in his name. Krishna her favourite probably could not be depended upon considering he had so many women to please. On the other hand had he not helped Draupadi aka Krishnaa, his namesake from dishonour in the court of the Kurus? What was it that Panchali had chanted? Was it just plain faith? Shiva everyone agreed was the easiest to call upon despite his ascetic and angry demeanour while Durga and Kali could most definitely take on the ghosts, tigers, snakes and strange men singlehandedly. The goddesses were always stronger than the gods.
raamaskandam hanumantam vainatehim vrukodaram
shayaneyah smarennityam dusvapnam tashya nashyati
Stupid, you said this before sleeping.
Sri raama raama raameti rame raame manorame
Sahasra naama tattulyam raama naama varaanane
Try to remember is this the Rama raksha mantramu? Also she felt like a cheat, asking for help from someone she was not very fond of. Her throat was parched already and she could hear nothing but her heart beat getting louder and louder. She was not sure if Rama could hear her. Would he really care for a young girl who preferred his other not-so-perfect avatara? Although if you are a god you ought not to be partial, no? The definition of god meant that if you are god, you helped those who came to you seeking refuge, seeking strength. It must be tough having to help those who mocked you, didn’t care much when things were going good and suddenly eulogizing you because they needed to face their ghosts! Humans would most certainly exact revenge at this stage. Gods cannot. Do not. Uma was not sure if she wanted to be a god herself.
Uma likes the idea of revenge.
Uma enjoys being a human being.
ayi girinandini nanditamedini viSvavinodini nandinute
girivaravindhya shirodhinivasini vishnuvilasini jiSnunute
bhagavati he shitikanThakuTumbini bhoorikuTumbini bhoorikrute
jaya jaya he mahishasuramardhini ramyakapardini shailasute
That felt much better! a paen to Durga, mothers were always compassionate and though she might prefer Kaanha and his antics it was unthinkable that a mother would not come to aid her child in need. Uma took a few deep breaths and dared to steal hurried glances around her. The late afternoon light seeping through the thicket, forcing its way in, as though to touch her, aroused the latent woman in her. She faced the dying light with renewed urgency. How I love you, she thought. The land, the trees, the water, this breeze. Who can harm me when the Pancha Bhootas are with me! How foolish Uma, you were afraid? Of what? Hail Mary Mother of God! Pray of us sinners.
She did not mind this once to think that she had sinned. To be afraid was to sin.
Even so such lofty thoughts aside, if she stayed any longer she might tempt the Pretas and Daens too much. They would want to suck her blood or sacrifice her to some unknown deities. Young virgin girls her age were the most sought after. They were probably eyeing her from a safe distance, now that she had the combined protective armour of Rama and Durga. She has been briefed by bhaiyyas and didis who spent many a evening playing the Ouija board that wearing a kada or a taaweez on such occasions helps. The evil spirit meets its match in iron, black and sacred chants. At this stage all evidence pointed to the singular advantage of having a single god, a single deity and a single figure to pray to, to call upon. Thirty three thousand gods or was it thirty three crores and not one whom she could firmly depend upon!
Knowing that she is safe in the hands of Devi, Uma wholeheartedly wishes that she can meet some goblins or gnomes or even elves, now that she is in the jungle, alone and worried and vulnerable to such encounters. Shouldn’t they come a-looking? Elves were known to be the friendliest of the forest creatures and they even cleaned up houses, polished shoes and showed you the way out of trouble. Like this one she was currently caught in. “don’t come up on me suddenly, just make your presence felt gradually” she tells them mentally. What she was most worried about was if such a creature were to appear she would faint with surprise! Half believing and half disbelieving, Uma’s world was caught in a mythical landscape that bordered on reality. A few windows were always kept open for the netherworld.
Quiet! Quiet! Uma commands her head which is whirling with myriad details of non-humans.
Her long walk back is quick, short and humble. She realizes that she is not yet as brave as she would like to be. She has been unable to read beyond the first paragraph without worrying about ghosts, tigers and unknown men. Her pre-occupation with fear has made what was to be an adventure into a foolish undertaking. She is retreating battle like a wounded soldier. How shameful! Worse still, the battle did not wound her as much as her own thoughts did. She has weakened herself.
“Where were you didi? We looked everywhere for you” Tulasi’s part accusatory part warning voice pierces the stillness of the purple evening. “We sent Venkat and MoMo to the library but they said you were not there” she continues, oblivious to the fact that Uma is making faces at the mere mention of their names. “We also went to Darrell’s house to check” at the mouthing of his name Tulasi pointedly looks at Uma, acting as though that the name should mean something special to her. Darrell’s affections for Uma are well known but what Uma feels for him is not very obvious and hence the sly pointers by the busybody maid servant, herself not yet thirteen. “hay bhogobaan, ki korbo!!” the child-maid prattles on, happy for any chance to talk and not work. “burnt to death!! a man of Walia saab’s height and weight to catch fire from a kerosene stove!….they are saying he was saving his wife..... she has no injuries, seeming very strange, no? bachcha log are very strong baba ray, Darrell, he is behaving so mature…everyone is saying his mother…. kil.. is planning all this for money” Tulasi carries on uninterrupted, she has no other source of entertainment you see. In her world this is the closest she will get to a scandal which involves ‘high-class people’. “there are rumours didi, Walia saab’s ghost cries every nite on the jhoola” she concludes in obvious guilt filled glee.
Tulasi knows that carrying sensitive information and sometimes false tales from one to the other in this close knit camp is the only way to survive competition. She has to make sure that the children like her, the mothers like her and yes, the officers like her. She is eager to please so that she can earn enough to feed her siblings at home, a day's journey away. Meanwhile she lives in the camp working in three-four households, doing their bidding, listening, watching and learning. It is not too bad. They feed her, clothe her, teach her to read and write and most of all if it invloves minding someone like Uma, she is free for a few hours since Uma sends her off with a "leave me alone!". Today though she was caught!! Where was Uma? Everyone was so worried. Tulasi better be careful or you'll lose your job. Get Uma on your side, tell her what she wants to hear.
What? Uma is immediately interested. "Who saw his ghost?"
“Tulasi, let’s go play on the jhoola, come” she commands the hapless servant, a girl three years her senior, a girl who calls her didi and does her bidding only because she is being paid for it. Tulasi has been working in this camp area for five years now. When she first started scrubbing vessels she was only eight years old. maybe less maybe more, who can tell? In her village one did not keep track of such meaningless dates. For a girl especially only three dates were of any value. The day she became a woman, the day she got married and the day she became a mother. Rest of a girl's life was nothing but drudgery, a preparation for these three days, to be awaited and dreamt, if they came at all.
"Na na didi, ami jabo na" Tulasi is an easy manipulator but a coward when it comes to ghosts, crying ghosts on squeaking swings even if they be of her own making. "Please take bath and do your homework" she pleads to a stubborn Uma
"Amma is very angry with you..." Tulasi hopes to instill some discipline and co-opts the power in the household
"Where is everyone?" Uma is irritated at being told what to do by a mere minion and the fact that her mother should be angry at her. Why is anyone angry with her at all? She, the most accommodating of kids. Isn't freedom her birthright?
"They have all gone for a party, you have to sleep by 7 pm today....." Tulasi mumbles sensing the growing resentment in Uma and not wanting to challenge her only ally. For all her faults Uma has never treated her badly. She has always shared everything and acted as though Tulasi was another sister to be dominated. That was the worst part. Uma was very rough with her own family.
After a quick cold bath, gulping two puris that are forced on her by a vigilant Tulasi, Uma arranges her bag for tomorrow's school and puts out lights before retreating under her covers with a torch.Here having hid the Exorcist behind the pillow, she proceeds to read it under torchlight in the safety of her home and Tulasi's mature presence.It is a difficult read. So many words she does not understand. Maybe tomorrow she can bring a dictionary to bed. Its time for her parents to return and she has no intention of staying awake and being probed on her forest forays.
"Didi, do you want to go to the jhoola?" Tulasi is a curious child too after all. "Lets go quickly before the party is over" she adds impatiently. The party is being held in the Mess and the Mess is a few bashas away. They can hear music, laughter and gaiety in the dark monsoon night. "Please don't tell anyone" a last minute plea to an already gone Uma. Running after her, house unlocked, beds unmade, Tulasi reaches the jhoola where Uma is already seated, waiting. Both the girls are scared, both afraid to admit so. They sit still, not breathing, not daring to speak.
"Do you think he will come?" Uma asks not daring to look at her friend-cum-maid after a few un-ghostful minutes.
Tulasi's fear is that her lie will come true!
"Ghosts appear only after midnight and definitely on full moon nights" she prattles on adding spice to her story.
"Today is Amavasya, no chance. No moon, no chance" Uma is disappointed. "Lets go!" she barks orders to Tulasi.
The swings creak as they get off, rusted joints claiming rest at least at night. The girls scream in unison and run all the way home.
The much partied aunties and uncles are returning home shouting Good Nites to one another, the air is filled with voices and its all bright and safe again with adults back in-charge of households and maids.
"Did she eat? Finished her homework? Where was she all evening? Make sure next time you don't let her out of your sight......" Amma is quietly reprimanding Tulasi. Uma is smiling under the blankets. While they were sitting still on the swing, Walia uncle had sat between them looking happy. He did not look like he had just been murdered by his wife, he did not talk to Uma at all but his presence was conveying so much to her, in fact he did not even look like Walia uncle, there was no pagDi, no daaDi, nothing, just a mass of white.She could only feel that he was Darrell's father.
She was special, she could see him, sense him, he said. Keep it that way Uma, keep it that way. Don't let your secret out.Ghosts are of only one kind, bodyless but humans are of two types,those who can see ghosts and those who cannot.
