Bhoot Bangla - A live story!

Nelson Mandela had said somewhere that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it and the brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear. Nice quote. Gives me courage to say that fear is nearly almost present in all of us! May be to a varying degree, perhaps. I think it is the human gene that is the culprit! ‘Fear’ gene (or whatever technical name the scientists would have given this gene) may have been passed on to us right from our evolution days (either as homo sapiens or homo erectus or some other earlier species even). Who knows? What I am trying to do here is to justify that we all fear something or the other, especially the unknown. 

The word fear is defined by Merriam-Webster dictionary as something or someone to be afraid of; to expect or worry about something bad or unpleasant. Basically, it is an unpleasant emotion caused by the threat of danger, pain, or harm. Fear drives people to do many things. Both good and bad. Though most of our fears are irrational and unfounded. 

It takes me back to the time when I was young, may be 9 or 10 years old. I had this terrible fear of unknown. Let’s call it fear of ghosts, because that was the nomenclature commonly used those days! I used to stay with my parents on a quiet street in a lonely area of Jayanagar (Those days Jayanagar was lonely and dimly lit during night times). There was this empty house on our street. During our stay of 7 years on this particular street, I never saw this house ever tenanted. This house wore a dilapidated look because of lack of maintenance. Shrubs and creepers had grown all around the house which gave it a decrepit appearance. In the mind of 10-year-old, this house had an eerie look! Whenever I used to pass this house during day times I had this habit of staring at the house looking for signs of any activity in the windows, though I clearly knew in my mind that no one resided there. However, during the evening times (around 7 PM or so just when the Sun had set and darkness was creeping upon) the house used to acquire a sinister look (in the mind of a 10-year-old). While passing the house one evening, on an errand, I kept staring at the house. I paused just slightly before the house as I could see some dim lights coming through the front bedroom window and I had this feeling that some shadows were moving behind the windows. I felt a creepy fear pass over me slowly. My pause turned into a short run. I reached the end of the street. The blood in my veins kept pounding as I kept looking back towards the house while on run. Just at the end of the street, there were two corner stores located, quite brightly lit. It was here that I was headed to for buying few things (I don’t remember exactly what I wanted to buy from corner stores). After completing my purchase, on my way back, I didn’t have the nerve to cross the empty house once again. I thought of taking the long route from the other end of the street by crossing over to the adjacent street. This again had its pitfalls as there was another empty house across that street too! This kept playing on my mind and I decided to take my chances and take the short route home. I closed my eyes and sprinted across the street (crossing the empty house) as fast as my young legs could carry me. I opened my eyes only after reaching the safe environs of my home. This sprint was the fastest blind run in my life. I could have given Usain Bolt a run for his money for the fastest 100 metres dash! My heart kept pounding and the blood gushed through my veins. I kept this incident to myself. I was ashamed to admit to my parents that I was scared. The next morning it was again the time to pass the empty house on my way to the shop. As was my habit, my eyes kept darting towards the empty house. I looked at the house through the corner of my eye. I couldn’t dare to look at the house directly as shivers were running through me. I didn’t see any activity happening in the house. The house stood empty as always! Nobody had occupied that house. I still don’t know if the play of lights and shadows that appeared behind the front bedroom window of the empty house that night were just the wild imagination of 10-year-old boy or something else! 

Continuing on this incident, I had connected this “haunted house” phenomenon to the Hindi movie titled ‘Gumnaam’ which I remember watching in the late sixties or so with my parents. After watching this movie, I was quite convinced that ghosts did exist, after all, (though the movie plot said that it was the female character who was carrying out this charade to deceive somebody or the other). I don’t exactly remember the plot of this movie now. This movie with its haunting melodies preyed on my mind for quite a number of years. I was scared of going out alone on the streets late in the evenings. I used to come home before nightfall (after play) as I was scared of late evenings. This was the time when shadows creep due to interplay of light and darkness; I always avoided staying late outside the house after 7 PM. This timing of 7 PM was sacrosanct due to my irrational fears. The fears that I had developed as a young boy age had persisted into my late teens and even during my youth.

This thought leads me to another incident that left an indelible impression on my mind. I was posted to work in a village branch during my first stint after joining a nationalized Bank. That was my first exposure away from my close-knit family. This was a remote village in the rain-fed area of Malnad region in interior Karnataka. The village was notorious for its rains and coffee estates. There was hardly any accommodation available for rent in the village. On the very first day a colleague of mine who was also from Bangalore offered to share a huge old bungalow with me for our residence. The problem with this bungalow was that this was situated outside of the village limits, though hardly a 5 minutes-walking distance from the Bank branch. This was the last building in the village environs. There were no houses on either side of the building. The house was located on a very lonely stretch. Thick shrubbery had grown on either sides of the house. My colleague and I used to keep all the rooms in the entire bungalow locked up except for one room which we used as sleeping quarters. We didn’t have any cots to sleep. Just our basic rolling beds were placed at the opposite corners of one room, which we had occupied. Rest of the house was just left unused. The house had a tiled roof. As the house was quite old, we had got it at a very cheap rental bargain. My colleague who stayed with me was a courageous and smart person. I could see that from day one. He was staying there alone before I joined him in a sharing arrangement. Within a month or so after my joining the Bank Branch, this colleague of mine had to go on leave for a week to Bangalore. I was left all alone in this huge bungalow. It was the rainy season. Rains were copious that year. The night after my colleague left for Bangalore, I went back to my bungalow with a stout heart, mentally determined. I stepped in the house, heartily singing, wanting to mask the fear of what was in store for me during the night. The rains had commenced and were very heavy that night as if the skies had opened up. Water was dripping here and there inside the house, in the crevices between the tiles. The owners didn’t want to spend on repairs as the rent was too low. Rains drops were lashing at the windows which was making an eerie sound. I had finished my night dinner at a nearby village restaurant before retiring for the evening. The long night had begun! I could hear the hooting of night owls somewhere in a distance amid the rain sounds. My mind was in a twirl. I sat on my bed opening a book to read. I couldn’t concentrate. I could feel the blood rush across my spine to my head. My imagination had gone wild and was playing all sorts of tricks inside. I had kept the lights on through the night. There were power cuts in between. I lit some candles. The flames were casting long shadows and dancing to the movement of the wind from the gaps between windows panes. I could feel the shivers running along my spine. All the thoughts of ghosts and whatnot rushed through my mind! I could hear the slight creaking of doors as winds kept howling outside. This experience was like a scene straight out of a horror movie! The fear was so intense that I thought I would not last the night! I was fighting with all my strength and tried to keep up my spirits by singing loudly; I was trying to be as rational as possible. I couldn’t sleep the entire night and was totally awake with fear! What a night that was, I could still feel the shivers creep up my spine even now, as I write this! There was no TV or Radio or anything which I could switch on to spend the night. I kept looking at my watch every now and then hoping the morning would arrive soon which would end my nightmare! That was the longest night of my lifetime! When I went back to the Bank the following day after surviving the horrid night, my colleagues at the Bank were waiting to know my fate, if I had survived! They asked me how was my night at the “Booth Bangla”! That was the first I heard of the bungalow being called that. I was kept in the dark. All the colleagues at the Bank were very young and full of spirits. In fact, all of them knew about the bungalow and told me stories of how this “Booth Bangla” had been vacant for a number of years and nobody had dared to occupy for fear of isolation and its sheer size coupled with the poor maintenance of the house! I also later learnt that how a colleague who was earlier staying in that bungalow vacated the place within a week totally numb with fear! It appears my Bangalore colleague was the only one who had the gumption to move into this bungalow and continue to live there for some time. He had taken this up as a challenge and he had won the challenge. Coming back to my story, I did spend the entire week alone in this huge old “Booth Bangla”, I don’t know how I survived. Each night was a terror and nightmare! The toughest week of my life! But here I am, after so many years, still very much alive and kicking to relate the story! Despite surviving the ordeal, I wouldn’t dare call myself a courageous or a brave person! I didn’t stay long in the house after that particular horrendous week. One more colleague of mine offered to share his house which was bang in the middle of the village, where I later shifted and happily spent the rest of my stay in the village. My hero colleague who had stayed in that big old bungalow for may be 6 months or so shifted shortly thereafter. 

The only thing we have to fear is the fear itself!  Doesn't this explanation sound reassuring.   Psychologists have long hypothesized that the fear response have honed human survival skills by generating appropriate behavioural responses. Again evolution. How nice!