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.

A Petrifying Incident in an Unknown and Desolate Haunted Hotel.

STORIES OF MYSTERIOUS ENCOUNTERS- 1.

Since my childhood, I’ve always been fascinated by the stories of the supernatural, spirits, ghosts, and Djinns. Here I'm narrating a story that I heard from my friend Aamir (name changed). This happened when he travelled from Mumbai, (dated 20th January 2009) to Unava Village, near Unjha of Mehsana District in the Western Indian State of Gujarat. The purpose of the visit to Unjah was to pay homage to the 14th-century holy shrine of Hazrat Sayyad Ali Mira Datar. This shrine is famous for healing mental illnesses, evil eyes, black magic, demonic possession, and the like.

The background to this journey is also interesting:

Sometimes in July-August 2007, Aamir’s wife, Fiza (name changed), had a dream. She saw a tomb and a renovation of a structure going on around the tomb. When she related this dream to Aamir, he began inquiring about the location of such a shrine. Later, he was told that the said shrine was of Hazrat Sayyad Ali Mira Daataa (Radi Allahu Anhu). Following this, discussions began about visiting the shrine. But Amir’s business engagements prevented the immediate travel plans. All of a sudden, one fine evening in September 2007, Aamir made a decision to undertake the journey along with his family by road. Having made the preparations, Aamir, his wife Fiza, his mother, and his uncle sat in their newly purchased Maruti Swift VDI the next evening around 5.30 p.m. and started for the said shrine which is around 660 km away by road from Mumbai.

They reached Amdavad (Ahmedabad) by 9 the next morning safe and sound. While proceeding further toward Unjah, they reached a junction where one road led to Unjah and the other to Ajmer (Rajasthan State). At this spot, my friend changed his mind and opted to travel further on to Ajmer, thinking that he would visit Unjah, later while returning from Ajmer. They reached Ajmer safely, but dead tired, around 11 O’clock at night. There they stayed for a week and paid homage at the famous shrine of Hazrat Khwaja Moinuddin Hasan Chishti (R.A.). However, on their return journey, they did not visit Unjah but returned home straightaway. My friend was full of guilty conscience at not having visited Unjah. His wife, however, used to remind him daily that they must visit Unjah soon and that they should not have come home directly. Meanwhile, my friend lost heavily in the business and had to sell off his car.

In September 2008, Fiza suffered from a deep cut on her hand and the wound had to be sutured.  Also, she began keeping unwell. The same month Fiza had the same dream about the Unjah shrine. It was finally decided that they should visit the shrine. In the absence of their car, they decided to use the Western Railways and travel up to the Unjah Station. Unfortunately, no seats were available on the train as the route is very busy as always. Hence they were disheartened. They cried they prayed that somehow they would be able to visit the shrine as early as possible.

All of a sudden things started looking better and Aamir was able to buy a new car. One evening their home was filled with some pleasant rose fragrance at Maghrib (evening prayer time). Fiza persuaded her “Saaheb” (for that’s how she used to address her husband, Aamir) that they should begin the journey to Unjah immediately. At around 11:30 p.m., Aamir and Fiza drove off in their car to finally visit the Dargah at Unjah.

Crossing the Maharashtra State, they entered the Gujarat State of India. They reached the highway near the city of Surat after about four hours. It was four in the morning. Therefore, Aamir and Fiza decided to lodge in a hotel along the highway. They went from one hotel to another but did not find any vacant rooms. They were forced to continue their journey without a break, till they reached Ankleshwar. Here they were fully exhausted and were unable to proceed further.

The reasons for their extreme exhaustion were not just the journey, but what they had gone through in Surat where they had stopped for refuelling at a Petrol Pump or Gas Station. After the attendant had filled the car’s tank, Aamir realised that he had no cash in hand. The security guard who was carrying a gun with him, however, allowed them to go when both husband and wife pleaded with him and showed him the ATM (Any Time Money) Debit Card. He told them that the Automated Teller Machine was around somewhere where they could get the cash.  After a search of a good 10 km stretch, they finally found the ATM near the same Petrol Pump itself. 

The job done, they proceeded further onwards and came to a bridge.  The work completed, they moved forward and came to a bridge. This bridge appears to be very ancient because when vehicles pass over it, it seems to move. This bridge is known to cause traffic jams for hours and keeps shaking even when vehicles are stationary. This bridge is used by all those who want to travel in a forward or backward direction from Surat by road. A truck had crashed right on the bridge and was overturned. After wasting an hour in traffic jams, they finally drove more than 60 km towards Ankleshwar, still searching for a hotel along the highway.

They found a clue to a hotel located at a right angle to the end of a secluded road off the highway. Amir noticed that the road was actually unpaved, indicating that it had not been used for quite some time. It took half an hour to reach the hotel. At first glance, the hotel appeared very old and in a dilapidated condition. The walls and the name of the hotel were covered with thick green moss. It was a detached one-storey structure. The area was full of thorny bushes, dry trees, and wild weeds. There were no other structures nearby. The strange thing is that no one lived in that area. It seemed as if time had forgotten the existence of this hotel.  The first thought that came to Aamir's mind was to run away from there. but he and Fiza were completely exhausted and he simply did not have the heart or energy to drive around in search of something comfortable. After all, he reasoned, it was only a matter of a few hours, and once refreshed they could leave the hotel immediately.

Short of alternatives, they decided to check-in. It was 7 a.m.  Aamir climbed up the steps to the deserted reception desk which was laden with dust.  He noticed an adjoining restaurant with a capacity of about a hundred tables. The restaurant area was in disorder and blanketed with cobwebs, indicating that it had not been used for who knows how many years. The restaurant counter also served as the reception desk for the lodge.  Seeing no one around, Aamir pressed the rusted reception bell.  With the sound of "Ding," came a whiff of rotten fish stench.  The stinking stench was so strong that Aamir's head began to spin, while his watery eyes blurred his vision.  It took a while to clear the air when he noticed a bellboy and a receptionist.   The receptionist was so thin that it seemed that a skeleton was wearing some ancient clothes.  He looked eerie and otherworldly and there was surely something that was not right about him.  The receptionist looked unconcerned. It took about fifteen minutes for Aamir to get the man to open his mouth to say "yes" or "no" to his inquiry.  After dusting off an old register he looked at it and then said in a hoarse voice, "Room Number 13." He did not ask him for any payment.  The young bellboy had already picked up the guests' luggage.  The bellboy led Aamir and Fiza to the first floor through a dark, rickety staircase to the room. They stepped into the corridor which was still dark.  Then the bellboy opened up Room No.13, dumped the baggage, and immediately withdrew from the scene.  As the room was opened a rotten stench greeted their nostrils.  In the flickering bulb light Aamir was disheartened to notice the condition of the room.  It was horribly dusty, untidy, and full of cobwebs.  The bed had not been made.  While he dusted the bed which did not even have a bedsheet, Aamir noticed ugly dried-up dark stains all over the mattress.  In one corner of the room, he was alarmed to notice red bloodstains on the wall.  Cursing under his breath,  Aamir went towards the bathroom to relieve himself. Upon opening the bathroom door, the gaseous rotten egg smell and big fat scurrying rats almost caused him to step back.  Being unable to control himself partly out of fear,  he urinated against the wall adjacent to the door. The water tap on the basin had no water at all. "O God," he muttered.  Still cursing under his breath at the predicaments they had launched themselves into, quietly he came to the bed.  He noticed that Fiza had spread their household bedsheets over the mattress and was sleeping soundly. He too lay himself by her side.  

Barely five minutes had passed when Aamir heard some loud voices from the adjacent rooms. He wondered whose voices were they!    Then Aamir remembered that while stepping on this floor he had managed to see that the other rooms were locked.   In other words, it was a blatant lie that all the other rooms were full of guests. Aamir also realized that they were the only people in the hotel. There is a mysterious, but spooky and terrifying, secret hidden in this old hotel that the outside world does not know.  This thought sent a shiver down his spine. 

Suddenly, Aamir heard his nickname, "Saheb", being called in a strange, long, shrill voice. Now, as said earlier, Fiza tended to address her husband Aamir by this nickname. No one else called him by this name. Aamir thought that Fiza had dozed off so how could she address him like this? At that moment, a terrible fear gripped Amir, who felt immobile. He and Fiza were lying side by side. Both of them were facing the same direction towards the door. The bed was near the window.  Aamir saw a woman, who from her getup was probably a Britisher.  She was taller than

the average woman. She was standing near Fiza's feet and staring at them. It was strange that her eyes were dripping blood.  The room echoed with the sounds of “Sahib, Sahib, Sahib”.

The ruckus woke up Fiza.  Without understanding the situation she yelled at Aamir,  “Why are you making so much noise? Why are you shaking the bed so much? Are you not happy with me on this trip?” Then, in the intermittent bulb light, she saw the woman who had been standing near the bed staring at them.  Looking at the woman, Fiza shouted, "And this woman, this blowsy, strident devil of a woman how dare she call you Sahib?"

At that moment, Aamir was seized with a terrible fear and he sat still with his fists tightly clenched. Fiza didn't know that Aamir was having premonitions of something unexpected.  The whole atmosphere was surcharged with evil dread.  Aamir felt that there would be a fierce quarrel between him and Fiza which would go far beyond the domain of rhetorical theory and would culminate in killing each other.

Then suddenly, as if on cue, there was a simultaneous head-splitting echo. The sound of door hinges coming off, the dreadful creaking of wooden doors and floors, the incessant cries of “Sahib, Sahib,” the sound of footsteps running up the stairs, and the noise of banging on doors, were enough to drive anyone mad. Then the icing on the cake, the cracks on the walls and the bloody game, the ghostly lady walking and sitting on the chair, all this was enough to clot the blood in the body and stop the heartbeats,

At this moment, someone began to bang on the door very hard.

On opening the door, Aamir saw the same boy. He had a strange bewildered look about him. The boy asked him if they had pressed the service bell.  

Before he could say "No", he saw the bellboy changing his physical form.  

In front of him was a monstrous being who could change his physical form at will. He looked insidious and evil.  His very sharp set of teeth made it evident that he was also a cannibal.  Under normal circumstances, it would be impossible to get out of the dangerous and creepy situation. 

Fortunately,  Aamir did not lose his presence of mind. This was the ultimate warning to Aamir to save himself and Fiza without any delay.  He realized that the slightest delay would make them morsels for the cannibalistic shapeshifter.  In this eternal moment, Aamir called out, "Ya Syed Ali Meera Datar Assalam Alaikum." I am going towards your shrine and I am your guest. Please help us get out of this devilish situation."

It is said that the invocation of an oppressed person reaches the gates of Heaven!

An eerie silence then prevailed in the room.  Gone were the echoes,  the bloody lady, all the rattlings, and the deadly shapeshifter.  It was now or never.  Aamir gathered the baggage, opened the latch of the main door, and holding Fiza's hand stepped out of the room in the corridor.   There was no sound in the corridor, not even of the birds.  Coming down the stairs, they headed towards the car and without looking back sped off in the direction of the National Highway.

They drove for about 40 kilometers on the highway. When they reached a Dhaba (a roadside eatery), Aamir stopped the car. There he told Fiza everything that he had seen and endured in that short period. Fiza had also experienced scary moments in the hotel. After refreshments, they invoked the name of Hazrat Syed Ali Meera Datar and continuing their journey, reached the Dargah safely.

When my friend Aamir narrated the above incident to me, I repeatedly asked him whether it was true.

Irritated, he replied, "So, was I telling a fairy tale?

"By the way," Aamir further confided, "I haven't told you anything about how two butterflies, fluttering against the car’s windshield despite the speed of the car,  had accompanied us all the way to the Shrine's location at Unava."  

I could only gape in wonder!

In my opinion, however, that hotel is lost in a time warp of at least 150 years. It is believed that the shapeshifters deceive travellers by confusing them to such an extent that they lose their direction and head toward destruction.  It was indeed the miraculous power that had delivered Amir and Fiza from a certain death! 

NASIR ALI.