In the dimly lit room, I gathered my friends around, eager to share a chilling tale passed down from my grandfather. Before I recount his bone-chilling encounter, allow me to paint a picture of my dear grandfather—a joyful and talented man, skilled in music, capable of playing the flute, tabla, piano, and more. He was a maestro in dance, mastering the art of both Kathak and Bharatanatyam. Yet, amidst all his passions, one thing held a peculiar grip on his heart—fish. He couldn't bear a day without this aquatic delicacy; it had to accompany every meal, or he'd refuse to eat anything else.
This eerie tale harks back some forty years, to a time when the world was a vastly different place. My grandfather resided in a quaint little village known as Kumta. In those days, the road leading to his home was a haunting path. No streetlights dared to pierce the darkness, and dense forests loomed ominously on either side. But things have changed drastically since then, as you'll soon see.
Back in those days, people relied on bicycles to travel from one place to another, and so did my grandfather. On a fateful day, he decided to visit his cousins in a distant city. He enjoyed a sumptuous fish meal with them and engaged in animated conversation. However, time flew by unnoticed, and when he glanced at the clock, it was alarmingly late. His kind cousins urged him to stay the night, but he couldn't bear the thought of leaving his wife (my grandmother) alone. Determined to return home, he set out on his cycle, the time being around 11 p.m.
The journey back home was a two-hour ride from his cousins' place. Alone in the darkness, without a single streetlight to guide him, my grandfather pedaled while singing to fend off his growing fear. Yet, as he ventured deeper into the eerie night, he began to hear unsettling sounds—dog barks echoing in the distance, but with a sinister, otherworldly quality.
Fear clung to him like a shroud, but he continued pedaling. Then, something strange occurred. He felt an unexplainable weight pressing down on the back of his bicycle seat as if an unseen presence had hitched a ride. Terrified, he dared not glance behind, for he remembered a piece of advice from his mother—never look back in moments of terror, for it might invite malevolent entities to unleash havoc upon one's life.
The burden on his cycle grew heavier with each passing moment, yet he held fast to his resolve, his heart pounding with fear. Reciting the Hanuman Chalisa as a desperate prayer, he persevered until, at long last, he reached the safety of his home. He abandoned the cycle and sprinted inside, seeking solace among the divine images he had kept.
The horror he experienced that night was beyond imagination—a fear that convinced him of the existence of malevolent entities in our world. This story serves as a stark reminder that, even in our modern age, there are places where darkness still reigns and where the boundary between the living and the supernatural blurs. Beware the unseen, for it may lurk just behind you, waiting for an opportune moment to reveal itself.
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