Ludhiana Diaries
Ramit Gulati
Copyright 2014 Ramit Gulati
All rights reserved
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1: The gathering of the seven ghosts
Chapter 2: The ballad of Govind
Chapter 3: The confluence of three
Chapter 4: The tutelage troubles
Chapter 5: The nomadic poet
About the Author
I wish I could say that I just went ahead and did this all by myself, that there was no one else who helped me in it. But that would be a gross misrepresentation of the truth.
There were many that assisted me in this journey of mine, some with the gift of their love and friendship, some with kind words of praise and encouragement, and some with valuable suggestions for a number of aspects of the story.
Ankita, Bhavya, Utkarsh, Gaurav, Anshuman, Neha, Naomi, Swadesh, Sami, Rahul (Billa Ji), Monty, Supreet, Ashish. Thank you guys, you people rock!
Lastly but most importantly, I would like to express my gratitude towards the universe, who gave me words and then the inspiration to weave these words in to semi-coherent sentences. You rock too man! At least till the next Pralaya.
Chapter 1 – The gathering of the seven ghosts
In northern India, in the state of Punjab, a little southward of the river of Satluj and a little northward of Sahnewal-the paternal village of Dharmendra, lies the city of Ludhiana. And smack dab in the middle of the city, facing the testosterone packed city stadium on one side and the estrogen laced women’s government college on the other, resides Rakh Bagh – a park spread out in a couple of acres, circumvented by a narrow rail track which in the years gone by was home to an open-toped single bogie toy train, the toy train that was once the stage where had performed gleeful smiles and excited shouts of the city’s children supported by the joyful and satisfied countenances of their parents, one bringing limitless elation to the hearts of its passengers while it took them on dreamy rounds of Rakh Bagh in those idyllic summer evenings, now rests abandoned in some dilapidated wooden shack located in some slumberous nameless corner, a stage long vacated by its actors, and would have been long forgotten too, if it was not for that rusted old track it had left behind to perpetually remind us of its existence.
Besides the track, the Rakh Bagh also has one small gable roofed pigeon house towards its eastern side, and a miniature model of Taj Mahal , known as the Sheesh Mahal towards its western one. Apart from these small attractions, it is like any other park in the country, sections of green with a network of cobblestoned pathways along with an interspersion of various trees.
One of the oldest of these was a Banyan tree, located not far from the Sheesh Mahal, and it was above this tree that on this cold wintry night of December, hovered seven white and weightless figures, white as powdery snow and weightless as vacuum. These were the seven ghosts of Ludhiana, the specters responsible for maintaining the happiness and well being of the people of this city.
The seven of them levitated above that old tree gathered in a circle, their white figures providing a sharp contrast against the pitch black of the sky above.
“Ahem, Ahem,” gruffly coughed the heavyset looking white effigy amidst them in an attempt to catch the attention of the others, and quickly it was provided to him.
“I have called this meeting here tonight, in order to welcome to the group, our new ghost of wisdom. As you all know, the old one retired last week, and we now have been sent his replacement. So let us welcome him with warmth, and make him feel as much as it is in our capacity, a part of this group,” he announced very formally, and now turned his gaze through his horn rimmed glasses, towards one gangly looking youth who was apparently the city’s new ghost of wisdom.
The rest of the group followed suit, and within moments, everyone was gawking at the fidgety young man, as if they were a group of scientists examining some new found specimen. Not that they had any intention of making the newcomer feel uncomfortable by this blatant staring, it was just that they found it quite strange that this youth with shaggy hair, baggy low waist jeans and a longish loose t-shirt was chosen to represent a virtue like wisdom.
The young teen remained in his position, feeling nervous and anxious at this close circuit examination of himself, and would have in all probability continued to do so, if it was not for one of the other figures in the group overcoming her amusement at this point and floating forth to introduce herself to the newcomer.
“Hi, I am Neha, the ghostess of love,” said she in a sonorous voice while a benign smile came across her lips and lit up her pretty features. She had the looks of one in her mid twenties and was dressed elegantly in a cocktail dress with her bright and pleasant face framed by thick white curls.
“H..hi..Ankit this side…” the young man mumbled back, before waving at the girl.
This little gesture by the ghostess of love stirred the others in to imitating her actions, and in turn all of them came up to the young fella and gave their introductions.
Firstly there was the Ghost of Wealth-Janu Khan, a tall Pathan of a brawny built with a slightly wearied looking face which was topped by a crop of well oiled hair that were neatly partitioned down the middle. From the stoic grimace on his lips to the dispassionate look in his bleary eyes, this was a man that could breeze his way through the toughest of negotiations without the slightest flinch.
Following him was the Ghost of Freedom-Vibhuti Lal, who looked akin to a man in his mid thirties and was dressed in a very simple looking kurta pajama along with a Nehru jacket. He looked a person of a very pleasant disposition, on his spirited and buoyant face was a child like smile that apparently stemmed from some indomitable set of beliefs he had found within himself.
Succeeding him was the only other female member of the group, Roshni-the ghostess of dreams. She looked too to be in her mid thirties, and surrounding her lively face was a glowing white aura that seemed to be the source from which many a dreams emanated every other second before spreading themselves out to the four corners of the city.
After her, came up a tired and defeated looking ghost, providing a bit of an ironic picture, for he was no one else but the ghost of hope. His name was Arjun, his manners were of a man completely jaded, the introduction he provided of himself to his new colleague was at best laconic, which was followed by a nod that was merely customary, before he quickly disappeared down the back of the group showing that any desire in him to make an acquaintance with this new fella was totally non-existent.
And at last it was the turn of the same gruff heavy set fella whom had earlier given that formal little speech to welcome Ankit to the group. Like before, his overall deportment remained refined and stately as he introduced himself as Jai Prakash, the ghost of contentment. His appearance was of a man in the winter years of his life and he was dressed in a three piece English suit, his horn rimmed glasses and his receding hairline giving him an appearance of an intellectual.
The round of introductions thus finished, the whole group engaged the new comer in some light conversation, whereby they learned that Ankit used to be an engineering student in his mortal life and had died in a bus accident one fateful weekend while he was making his way back home from college. While such a tragic piece of information about the untimely death of one so
young would induce much commiseration in the hearts of mortals, for these ghosts who held a deeper understanding of the nature and mechanisms of death, it was nothing but informal gabber.
By now the time had begun to draw itself towards the hour of midnight, and with everyone except the goddess of love Neha looking anxious and eager to make their getaway, the meeting was called to a conclusion by Jai Prakash.
“I am hoping that you can impart him the knowledge he will require to function properly in his new role,” was Jai Prakash’s parting comment to Neha, before he and the others suddenly flitted away and disappeared in to the pitch black sky.
Ankit and Neha were the only two left behind, still floating over that banyan tree.
“That was a pretty quick departure, I mean not even a good bye, I am frankly offended,” Ankit scoffed with a false pout, which apparently tickled the ghostess’ funny bone, causing her to break in to a sweet cherubic giggle.
“They do not mean to be rude, they have been away from their mother trees the whole day, and they require spending some time in its proximity lest their energies begin to dwindle away. Each one of us has a mother tree and we need to spend at least a few hours of our day near it to get our nourishments,” she informed him, but the stupefied expression on the boy’s face told her that he was in need of further edification.
“They must have given you a gemstone, before they sent you here,” she asserted upon which the young man fished in to one of the front pockets of his jeans and brought out a shiny blue jewel. He had been given this before being dispatched off on his way here, but no one had explained to him anything about its purpose. It was now that he was about to be let in on its secret.
“I see they have given you a blue sapphire. Mine was a red ruby. Well that is your sorcerer’s stone. Like you, each of us was given one before we were discharged for our duties in to the mortal world. You now require burying it in to the soil some place, and within minutes a tree shall spring up in that very spot, and that will be your mother tree. Just as mortals derive their nourishment from food, we ghosts derive ours from the energy that radiates out from our mother trees.”
“Oh, so that’s why they were in such rush…I get it now..” Ankit nodded his understanding. “What about you though, don’t you need to go to your mother tree?” he asked, a little curious. In reply, he noticed her smiling back at him before she began pointing downwards with her eyes.
“Umm..what?” Ankit asked, as he reflexively looked down to check upon the zipper of his jeans and was much relieved to find it in proper order.
He saw the smile recur on Neha’s face before she pointed down again, this time though with one of her fingers. It was then that his ‘wisdom’ finally kicked in.
“oh..this tree..is your…. mother tree..” he felt a bit daft as he now repeated the obvious.
“okay..I get it, I get it..so I guess I can just bury my stone some place nearby, this park seems large enough for the both of us..” He said half jokingly but was hoping for Neha to accede to his suggestion, for what man would not want to have a beautiful neighbor like her.
“Well you cannot actually,” Neha replied to his immediate disappointment. “Not that I have any personal objection, it is just that the energy spheres of our trees would end up interfering with each other, and they would both lose their efficiency. That is why, no two mother trees are planted within a half a mile radius from each other,” she explained, causing much melancholy to the young boy’s spirit.
Energy spheres, efficiency, physics was messing up with his life all over again...Wait his life was over…Damn physics, it was even haunting him in his after life, even ghosts it seemed were not safe from its terror!
“Next I need to tell you about your responsibilities. As a ghost of wisdom, you will try and help people that are standing at pivotal crossroads in their lives. You will need to help them make the right choice, and for that you are given some special powers. There are some mantras though that you will need to memorize in order to wield them successfully.”
“The first of these powers gives you the ability to enter and manipulate the dreams of people, in sleep a mind is more prone to our suggestions for at that time its natural defenses are lowered. The mantra for that is – Pravesham Swapnam.”
“The second of the powers allows you to temporarily cloak yourself in a mortal form of your choice, if you think that it could assist you in helping someone. You only need to close your eyes, picture the form that you wish to don, and then say the mantra – Dharanam Shareeram. You should be extremely careful though that the person whose form you are donning is not anywhere nearby. Otherwise the two of you, if seen together, can create quite a ruckus as you can well imagine.”
“The third of these powers allows to you materialize any object you wish for from within the limits of this city. Once again, you will need to close your eyes, picture the object you want and say the mantra – Prakatam Vastunam.”
“And anytime you need to get back to the normal state of affairs, which is to get back out of a dream, or make the mortal form you donned vanish, or the object you have brought forth return to its original place, you will just need to click your fingers together and it will be done.”
And so she explained it all to her newly found pupil, who was staining hard to absorb all this knowledge in one go. Neha noticed his discomfort and made an effort to allay his anxieties.
“Do not worry, you will have it all down within the first week or so, it is quite easy. Moving on, the next question is how will you know about the identity and whereabouts of these people standing at pivotal cross roads in their lives and in need of your help? You surely cannot keep an eye all the time on the whole populace of the city. So for that each one of us is given a map. To make yours appear, you will have to say the mantra – Prakatam Naksham. Wait let me show you.”
“Before you enunciate a mantra, you need to get in to the proper posture.” And Neha raised her arms above her head and with her palms facing the sky she pronounced ‘Prakatam Naksham’, her voice resonating in the still night air. Just a couple of moments later, a white holographic map of the whole city appeared in the air right above them.
“This is my map. That Ouroboros marks my position, signifying the ability of love to continually rediscover itself. That quill next to me is you. And the rest of the symbols in there tell us of the location of the others. But the most important symbol there for me is of a blinking red dot, that highlights the location of a person who needs my help at that moment. All in all, it is quite a piece of ingenuity, isn’t it?” she remarked with admiration before she clicked her fingers together and the map vanished.
“Let us see yours then,” she next proposed.
Ankit, much obliged to do her bidding, tried his best to imitate her actions from a few moments before and to his great astonishment, he too managed to materialize a holographic map above their heads.
It was similar to the one Neha had conjured except the conspicuous presence of a rapidly blinking blue dot which was located not far from where they were. The moment it caught Neha’s attention, as per habit it sent her in to a state of reflexive alarm.
“Come, let us check this out quickly,” and without another moment’s delay, she fleeted off, with Ankit trying his best to keep up with her.
Within half a minute, the two of them were hovering over an alley towards the back of the city stadium, the location from where the distress signal had originated. Down on the street were three young boys, involved in an animated discussion.
“Brother ciggies and booze..worthless things they are..utterly detestable..” chimed one of the boys, apparently giving his friend a noble piece of advice.
“yes brother..brother is right..they are utterly worthless..a complete money waste..” The second boy vehemently agreed with the first, as he spat on the ground to show his indignation towards the whole race of cigarettes and alcohol.
What two good and honorable friends these w
ere, trying to stop their friend from going down the wrong path, there was certainly no requirement for any ghost of wisdom here. It must have been a glitch in that map, may be it wasn’t so ingenious after all.
“indeed brother..there is nothing good about ciggies or booze..if there is any drug you should do, then its cocaine brother..a royal drug it is.”
No, not a glitch, and no, not two good friends, may be one good friend?
“Brother is right brother, a royal drug that will make you feel as if you are standing in the middle of an Armageddon.”
No, not one good friend either.
This last mention of the cataclysmic powers of cocaine apparently convinced the third boy to take the small packet that his friends were offering him, before he went off towards an abandoned shack near the end of the street, in order to give this new drug a try in the safety of indoors.
Once he was safely out of earshot, the two rascals exchanged with each other an insidious smile.
“Once the mother fucker is addicted to it, he will be a cow we milk for money every other day.”
“yes brother, when the sesame opens..”
“All thieves make merry...” And the two of them, struggled to contain their laughter.
Neha and Ankit were hearing and seeing it all, and it was the ghostess of love that felt the most incensed at what she was witnessing. If it was not for the ethereal laws that forbid her from doing mortals any kind of harm, she would have brought down the wrath of seven hells upon these two scoundrels.
“You have got to do something, you have to…” she pressed Ankit, her face clenched in anger.
For Ankit, this felt like an initiation by fire, not only he had to try and do something for the boy, but he also had to raise his own image in the eyes of this woman he had grown much attracted to in the course of this one evening. Luckily for him, after putting an intense and urgent stain on his faculties, an idea manifested itself in his head.
“What was that mantra, when you need to make objects appear?”
“prakatam vastunam…”
“prakatam vastunam….okay, just in a minute or so make a knocking noise on the door of that shack..”