Stories of Mysterious Encounters: The Ghost in Goa.

The year was 1965. I had been enjoying my vacation in Goa and had just returned to Goa Velha from Vasco after a romantic jaunt.   Please see: http://preview.tinyurl.com/2unlxtd

As I stated before, there was no electricity in this hamlet. I found this a sort of a blessing because when it got dark the members of the family got together and discussed many things, narrated many tales. Early to bed and early to rise was the way then.  This was not the era when even the humblest of villagers owns some property as in present times.    At that time, wedding ceremonies and celebrations used to be simple and not some lavish affairs of booking prestigious halls in Goa.   

Pre-monsoon is also the season of weddings some of which I had attended in Vasco.  One day my friend, Cajetan, informed me that I must come to the wedding reception that was to be held in the village that evening. The bride was from a nearby house. That was fine with me since the evenings used to be mostly dull. At the appointed time I put on my best dress and shoes and went along with Cajetan to the reception hall. But there was no hall. It was an open place that was surrounded by intermittent poles. On each pole, there was a “Petromax” lamp so that there was sufficient lighting. The “hall” was adorned with festoons. In one corner there was a make-shift stage. Musicians were playing some Western melodies. Right before the stage, in the open space, couples were dancing on a big mat that had been spread over the sand. At the fringe of this open space, there were chairs for the invitees. To the left of the stage sat the bride and the bridegroom facing the invitees. I met the couple and wished them a long and happy married life. Then I was free. Since I was a teetotaler my friend pointed out the place where soft drinks were available. He also informed me about the instant soda that came in bottles that had a sort of small round marble inside. He said that it was dangerous for the man who prepared the soda in the vending machine since quite a few vendors had lost their fingers while preparing the instant soda. I don’t remember much about it and so am unable to explain. In Bombay, we had Roger’s Company which had a soda and lemon plant at Clare Road, Byculla.

I had some “lemon-soda” and began to ponder what should I do next. I then asked my friend about the crooner who was nowhere to be seen. There was no crooner he said. Then I went up to the stage and asked the bandmaster whether they would allow me to sing. He was happy to oblige. I asked them to play the music of Cliff Richard songs. I started with a bang by singing YOUNG ONES, DARLING WE’RE THE YOUNG ONES. I could sense some animation in the crowd and the dancing couples. The bride and the bridegroom also came on the floor. The song was repeated three or four times so that there was no break for the dancing couples. The next number was WHEN THE GIRL IN YOUR ARMS IS THE GIRL IN YOUR HEART. I also included a Bobby Darin number: EVERY NIGHT I SIT HERE BY MY WINDOW…Thus it went on and on. My day was made. My hosts and the neighbours were very pleased and surprised too that I could mix with them so well.

The next day Cajetan informed me that there was another wedding reception in the evening from the bridegroom’s side at a place that was some two miles away.
“What?” I asked. “Two receptions for the same wedding?”

I pondered over the Goan wedding receptions that I had attended in Bombay. I knew that there was just a single reception. For us in Byculla, it was common to visit St. Joseph’s Hall in Dongri or St. Isabel’s High School Hall at Mazagaon, and sometimes the hall of Rosary Church, Dockyard, or Hume’s High School Hall opposite the Traffic Institute. Anthony D’Souza High School was also the rendezvous for the wedding reception sometimes.

“Two receptions is the custom here,” Cajetan replied.

Since Cajetan’s aunt was away in Mapusa Town, selling mangoes there, we shifted to our common friend Louis’ house.  This was a spacious house that was built some four feet above ground level. As one climbed the four steps one first reached the long verandah. There were big rooms that served as a hall, a bedroom, and a kitchen. The kitchen had a chimney for emitting the smoke. Outside the house was a small shack where dry wood was stored. To the left were the mango orchard and the woods that had various other trees and vegetation as well.

When the evening came we set out for the bridegroom’s place from Louis’. One way to go there was to cut across the woods to reach the tarred road that went by the church, I was told. But that route was pretty long and circuitous. There was a shortcut that could take us there faster. Cajetan took me along this shortcut route. It was getting dark, and as I said there was no electricity in the hamlet in 1965. Fortunately, the moon was rising and it was a full-moon night. We passed by Casa De Pova and then the Village Post Office. Thereafter we climbed some three steps into a sort of lane that was pitch-dark. It was so dark that we could not see our own hands. Perhaps it was a passage through some walls. Finally, we came out in the opening. After traversing some distance we came to the bridegroom’s place.

The same sort of arrangements as the one we had noted in our part of the hamlet were seen here too. The band was playing the music with the crooner belting out Konkani songs. To my annoyance, Cajetan left me in the hall and went to see his friends who were busy quaffing liquor at one end. Left to myself, I had no alternative but to join the dancing couples. There was a young girl who sat all by herself. I went up to her. I didn’t say: “May I have the pleasure of dancing with you?” Extending my hand I just said: “Dance?” She got up as a matter of factly and I slid my arms around her waist.

Though we were dancing, both of us were mum. When the band stopped playing for a break and refreshments, I went back to my seat. I was getting awfully embarrassed, with no one to talk to. But I kept looking at that girl across my table. So when the band began to play again, I went to her and she got up by herself and we were dancing again.

I remember that she was a slim girl, with auburn hair, a sharp straight nose, thin pink lips, and grey eyes. She had a “Sadhna” cut hairdo. She was attractive though she wore no make-up.  Her skin had a golden tan. Jumping to the1980s, I could say she had the looks of Sophie Marceau.  (see the inset to the right).  Yes, I remember she looked like her. 

 Later on, I did have an opportunity to meet her near her residence. She used to hum one particular Konkani song the wordings of which I don’t recollect at this instant but which I remembered for many years. Neither do I remember her name. But I did learn a line of that number in order to break the ice with her. Though she looked at me she kept rather aloof. Was it a pretence? Maybe she was too young to experience any feeling. Remember that song from Aayee Milan Ki Bela (1963): TUM KAMSIN HO, NAADAAN HO, NAAZUK HO? It fitted her like a glove. After leaving Goa I had forgotten her completely for a decade until I learnt that some truths are stranger than fiction. The same girl came to my building at Byculla after ten years. She was no longer as pretty as I had last seen her. The ravages of ten years had robbed her of her original good looks. By some quirk of fate, which is another story, she in fact landed at my house.  However, by then,  I was a married man and could not take any kind of risk with her which would destroy my marital bliss. After a month she departed, I don’t know where… 

To come back to our present story, somehow I passed my time till midnight at the reception. By this time there was quite a crowd of dancers. The bride and the bridegroom too were in their element. In the meantime, I approached the crooner who called himself Johnny Salsette. I wanted to give a song but he refused me tactfully. I went over to Cajetan who was guffawing with his friends, oblivious to my presence. I told him I wanted to go back. But he asked me to stay. Finally, at 2 A.M. I made up my mind to leave the party alone. However, I could not opt for the shortcut route where we had walked in complete darkness for a while.  Alone I set out for Louis’s home, opting for the longer route since the moon was bright.

Now when I came to the tar road, there was not a soul in sight. It was silent and eerie! However, I kept walking, whistling sometimes, and sometimes humming a song and pretending that I was not scared.  Sometimes I would hear the occasional barking of some dogs. The road was long. Finally, I came near the church, oblivious to the graveyard there. 

I only knew that in older times the Church had complete control over burials and hence most burials took place near the church.  Blissfully, I was unaware that such abandoned graveyards are often the haunt of ghosts and spirits who beckon the lone unwary traveller to latch themselves on him.   

It was a cool December night with the beautiful full moon and unpolluted air that I concentrated on enjoying and just moved on.  

Further, at a distance, I had to take a turn towards the kutcha path which led to the woods.   Beyond these woods stood Louise's home.

There were lots of trees of all shapes and sizes here and therefore it was comparatively darker.  However, the moon shone through the lattice of leaves which was enough for me to make headway.  I also cared to see that I did not step on any snake slithering at night. Bats were flying about. Some owls were also doing the round perhaps hunting for rats. I went on and on until I was right in the midst of the woods. Suddenly an owl hooted ominously somewhere, and a bat flew past, slapping its wing against my face.  As I followed its flight, I saw three tamarind trees ahead at a distance. The trees stood side by side.

On a moonlit night, I saw a hazy figure of someone sitting on a branch of the tamarind tree that was in the center.  He was dangling his legs. I was shocked for a while. He appeared to be looking down at me.  Frightening thoughts crossed my mind.  What if the entity or the ghost or whatever it was might extend its legs right in front of me and obstructed my passage!   

Perspiration appeared on my forehead though the surroundings felt so cold. My mouth went dry.  It was best to pretend as if I had not seen him, I thought. Wiping my sweat, I began to hum La Dida Da ….la la… aloud and increased my pace. After a time I saw a pack of dogs,  barking from a distance. Surprisingly, they did not scare me. Their barks in fact sounded like music to my ears as I felt reassured. Soon I had crossed the entire stretch of the woods.  As I came to the house, I sneaked in and removed my shoes and socks. I did not think it proper to wake up anyone in the house at that unearthly hour. I picked up a mat from a corner and cuddling myself went to sleep on the verandah itself.

When I woke up the next morning I found Cajetan and Louis sitting by my side.

“Why did you leave early?” Cajetan asked.  

Before I could answer him, Louis inquired, “How did you find your way back?”

“Oh, I came by the tar road,” I said.

“What!” Both of them appeared incredulous.

“Don’t you know there’s a graveyard there? You shouldn’t have taken that road at that time of the night. I hope nothing happened,” Cajetan shot back.

“No, nothing happened there, but…”

“But what?” asked Louis.

Then I told them about my walk in the woods and the tamarind trees and the ghost that I had seen. “Oh!” exclaimed Louis.

We had breakfast of toast and butter and a glassful of black tea. Then we bid Louis goodbye, as both Cajetan and I were to leave for Bombay the next day. On our way to the aunt’s house, Cajetan revealed to me that a year ago Louis’ father had fallen off the tamarind tree and died at that spot. So did I see the ghost of his father, I wondered.

That evening I met with everyone I knew in the village and bid them goodbye. I had made up my mind not to travel by ship. If my memory serves me right both of us went to Margao Railway Station and boarded a train which took us to Miraj. There we took another train that took us to the Victoria Terminus (CST Station), Mumbai. The journey by train was full of joy and memories of its own. However, this time I had returned with a ghostly experience that I could never forget.☺

NASIR ALI.