Chapter 9
Both Hari and Vijay were stunned. The old man was now quiet and took out a beedi from his pocket. He slowly light it and started smoking. The two friends just stood there with their mouths open looking at the old man. The bus driver blew his horn impatiently as he did not see anyone climbing aboard.
“Your bus has come” the old man said. “Aren’t you going to get on? I am just sitting here to rest my tired limbs. ”
“Forget the bus,” Vijay said.” What did you just say?”
The bus continued on its journey, but no was interested in the bus now.
“I am telling you the truth. I know you young people do not believe in all this but what I am telling you is the truth. I know it because I have seen it all happen right in front of my eyes. Off course I was a young boy then and all this happened years ago,” the old man said.
Hari and Vijay sat down again as they listened to the old man narrate his story.
“The events that I am about to narrate happened back in the 1940’s. I was ten years old then. This place, which you see as a forest now, it was a thriving village back then. We called it Haripur, the abode of Vishnu. Ours was a quiet village with about twenty families, which made up around a hundred people in. Sadashiv Rao Patil was the jamindar, the landowner of the village. He owned the lands on all sides of the village. The villagers worked on his lands and paid him a part of the proceeds as taxes. Sadashiv was a good man, pious and religious. He was just and helped the villagers when they had any needs. Sadashiv had a son. Laxman Rao who was the opposite of his father in every sense of the word. Born in the lap of luxury, Laxman never had to work in his life and could not understand the pain and hardship the farmers had to undergo to survive. He would cruelly treat anyone who defaulted on the debt payments even when his father was ready to forego the collection. With a gang of goons, he used to terrorize the villagers. He was a drunkard and spent his share of his father’s money on dancing girls besides wine. He would roam around for months. The people also were happy with the arrangement as the less they saw of his the more life was peaceful for them. ”
The old man paused here. He seemed to be out of breath. He lit up another beedi and continued with his story.
“Sadashiv Rao was sad to see his son waste his life in this manner. He consulting astrologers and offered pooja at temples in various pilgrim spots in the hope that it could reform his son. Then one day someone suggested to him that the best way to atone for ones sins was to build a temple. Sadashiv liked the idea very much. The one thing Haripur lacked was a temple and he stared work in all earnest. The temple he built was not huge but it was beautiful. Gracefully carved stone pillars supported a dome shaped ceiling, which was visible from all corners of the village. The construction took a year and as its neared completion, the search for a priest to conduct the daily poojas started. There were no Brahmins families in the village and tradition dictated that only a Brahmin well versed in the shastras could be made the priest. To bring someone from another village was expensive. It at this time that Sadashiv remembered a friend that he had made some years ago while on a pilgrimage in south India. He had always had a desire to travel to the pilgrim spots of the southern states. One day while on the pilgrimage somehow Sadashiv got separated from the other members of the pilgrimage group. In a strange land where no one understood his language, Sadashiv roamed around for half a day trying to find help. Help came in a form of a Brahmin who not only knew Hindi but took Sadashiv to his house and gave him food. The Brahmin helped Sadashiv regroup with the other members of his pilgrimage group. A grateful Sadashiv took the brahmins’s address and details and requested him to contact Sadashiv whenever in need.
Sadashiv out a letter to him invited him to take over the job of the priest. The Brahmin agreed and came to Haripur a month later. Along with him came his teenage daughter, Sumangali. His wife had died at childbirth and the brahmin was a father and mother to the young girl.
There was a grand festival to mark the consecration of the temple and the entire village was invited and feasted for three days. It had been a grand occasion for all and Sadashiv was extremely happy with the way things had proceeded. The Brahmin, Vishnu Narayanan Namboodiri for that was his name turned out to be an erudite scholar knowledgeable in the Vedas and the holy books. He started a satsang a holy gathering, where people would listen in as he expounded the meaning of the slokas from the Bhagvat Gita. The happy villagers pooled resources and built a small house for the priest and his daughter. This house built entirely of wood and was raised on a few pegs to keep the flood waters away.”
The old man’s second beedi had also finished. He threw the stub away and stood up to stretch his limbs out. Hari and Vijay, who were listening with rapt attention to every word he had said so far, just followed the old man with their eyes, waiting for him to restart his narrative. After a few minutes of walking around the old man sat down and said”I don’t have any more beedi’s do you have any?”
Hari shook his head and the old man looked at Hari.
“ I don’t smoke. Forget the beedi, once you complete your story, I will buy you a packet of cigarettes”, Vijay said.
“ One full packet?” the old man asked.
“Yes one full packet” Vijay promised. “Now get on with the story.”
“A few month after the temple consecration, Laxman returned. He had been roaming around the bigger towns spending his entire father’s money on dancing women and liquor. When the money ran out and the liquor bars and dancing girls stopped entertaining him, he had to return to Haripur.
The first thing he saw as he neared Haripur was the completed temple. Laxman, had always considered the money his father had spent on the temple as a waste. Looking at the grandeur of the temple and the sign of festivities that had been going on he was sure millions had been spent by his father. He was furious. He went home and got into a shouting match with his father. Finally, a furious Sadashiv Rao told his son to get out of the house. Sadashiv also told him that he was not to expect anything as inheritance unless he mended his ways and helped in his father’s work.
Laxman was mad with anger and as he stumbled out of the house, it was as he was roaming around the village that his eyes fell on the priest’s daughter, Sumangali. The girl was playing with the children in the village square. Sumangali was beautiful, very fair with long waist length curly hair. The girl liked to dress in colorful clothes and always wore a pair of silver anklets. It was uncommon for a Brahmin to interact with people from the lower castes but Vishnu Namboodri had progressive views on the caste system and his daughter carried the tradition forward. She loved playing with the children of the villagers.
For Laxman all his frustrations and hatred for his father crystallized into a lust for Sumangali. He watched her from her distance and waited for the opportune moment.
The moment came when, that evening Vishnu left their hut for his evening worship. Laxmi used to accompany her father for the puja. That day however she could not go immediately and was to join her father after some time. Laxman sneeked up behind the house and watched as Sumangali was getting dressed in the house. Her beauty and youth was more than what an intoxicated Laxman could handle and he jumped in and attempted to rape her. It was at that moment that Vishnu returned to the house. He had forgotten some items for the puja and had hurried back. As he entered the house a half dressed Sumangali rushed out screaming for help, chased by a Laxman who was unsteady on his feet.”
The old man stopped his story at this point and started coughing. The friends were beside themselves with exasperation. The normally cool Hari was the first to burst out, “Oh no, don’t stop now. Do tell us what happened after that. ”
“I could do with a drink of water,” the old man said. “ I have been talking for some time now and at my age, it is not good or my health”.
“Will you please finish the story first? If you tell us the whole story, I will pay you a hundred rupees,” said Vijay.
; “And the packet of cigarette. You said you would buy me a full packet of cigarette. “
“Yes that too. My God! How can you think about cigarettes at a time like this?” Vijay said.
“Please baba can you continue”, said Hari. His voice sounded weak, he was looking at the ground, and he looked tired.
“Ok, I will continue. But remember about the hundred rupees and the packet of cigarettes.”
“Yes… yes you will get both. Now please continue,” Vijay said.
The old man cleared his throat and let out a huge sigh.
“What happened after that was sad. The old priest immediately understood what was happening. He grabbed Laxman and the two started fighting. The priest was an old man, Laxman was young and also under the influence of liquor. He beat the priest savagely; the villagers were too scared to help after all Laxman was the son of the Jamindar. The priest was bleeding profusely and as he lay there in front of the house, Laxman fled from the scene. A shocked Sumangali was watching all of this. Some women put a sari to covered her body. She just stood there unable to move or react, watching as if in a dream. Then after laxman had run away, she ran over to where her father lay on the ground and she sat down beside him on the ground. Gently she lifted his head, placed it on her lap, and began rubbing his forehead. Laying there on the ground, with his head on his daughters lap the old priest passed away.
Sumangali remained holding him for a long time as the villagers gathered all around and watched. She did not say a word or cry. She just kept on massaging the forehead of her dead father. Then she placed the head on the ground, and went inside the house and closed the door. She hung herself in one of the rooms. People say there is a mark of a woman on the walls of the room even today. I don’t know for I have never dared to go into the house.”
“ What happened to Laxman? Where was the Jamindar when all this was happening?” asked Hari.
“ The villagers were shocked by the tragic turn of events. Someone had rushed to inform the Jamindar, but by the time he reached the spot, it was too late. He along with the villager cremated the priest and his daughter that same evening. Now, about Laxman. When the effect of the liquor had worn of, he realized the seriousness of his crime and decided to escape from the village. He though that while escaping he would steal all the money in his father’s safe. The third day after the priests death, it was a full moon and Laxman chose that day to rob his father. He was successfully in robbing the old man and had almost made his way out of the village when fate stepped in. The next morning the villagers found his badly mangled body lying outside the now abandoned house of the priest. A story spread that it was Sumangali, who had returned as a ghost, and killed Laxman. On moonlight nights, people started seeing the young girl walking in front of the house. The story spread and people scared for their lives started leaving the village. The Jamindar was also one of those who left the village, there was nothing left there for him now, and people said he became a wandering fakir. Within a matter of months, the once bustling Haripur turned into a desolate and forsaken place overgrown with creepers and bushes. The forest moved in and the covered up what remained.”
The old man got up to leave.
“Here take this,” said Vijay and gave him a hundred rupee note from his pocket.
“And this”, said Hari and he also gave the old man a hundred. “We don’t have cigarettes so buy a packet yourself.”
The old man started to leave and then stopped and came back. He put his hand on Hari’s shoulder and said,” Son, listen to this bit of advice from an old man. Do not go back to that house. She is evil. She has killed a man and she can kill you.”
As the old man walked away, the two friends sat there in silence. Several minutes passed before Vijay spoke,” So what now?”
“ I am thinking,” said Hari.
“Are you going back to the house?” Vijay asked.
“Why shouldn’t I?” Hari asked.
“ After what we just heard are you mad to go back to the house?” Vijay asked.
“Do you believe that old man? That fool made that all up for a packet of cigarettes and some money”
“Hari don’t be a fool. I think the old man was telling the truth or at least telling us what he had heard about the place.” Vijay said. “Think of it this way. In a place like Mumbai where people find it difficult to find a place to stay, how come there is this abandoned house in the middle of the forest.”
“ I do not believe a word of what the old man said. I am going back to the house. Your bus is coming,” said Hari.
“Hari don’t be silly. Your life is at stake here. Come to my house stay with me”
“Don’t be foolish. I am going back to the house. There is no connection between the two girls. The girl I know is just some tribal girl and she would not harm me. It is getting dark so either you come with me back to the house or go home.”
Hari saw off Vijay on the bus and returned to the house in the jungle.
As he reached the front door, he heard the sound of anklets. Sumangali was standing there below the trees in her usual spot.