The Road Taken

The sun was about to set, finally deciding to withdraw its scorching glances, as it were, from the long-suffering populace of Haripur, a small, remote town in Uttar Pradesh. Relief, however, was partial, for the burning rays of the merciless sun were replaced only by the utter heaviness in the air, the dull stillness in which not a leaf moves or a blade of grass sways. Just a laborious waiting for nightfall when darkness takes some of the sting out of yet another blazing day.

It was the infamous North Indian summer after all and it had to live up to its inglorious reputation.

Mrignaynee, looking much younger than her twenty years, was returning from town back to her home in the tiny village of Baadla. A bag of weekly essentials swung from one of the handles of her bicycle. A half-empty plastic water bottle was stuck into the small wired basket attached to the front handles.

A mini crisis had just occurred.

Jumping down from her seat, she wiped the rivulet of sweat that was running from her right ear lobe down to her neckline and towards her collar bone. She looked down in dismay at the lifeless tire of her bicycle which had stumbled over a large, rusty nail along the way and had, in shock, let out all its air.

She knew what that meant – a long, hot walk home. But, the prospect of dragging her bicycle along with battling the constant perspiration wasn't the only thing that had her brow furrowed in worry. 

The way home passed through one of the most desolate stretches in that town, the infamous 'basti', though why it had been bestowed with that particular name was now a part of oft-repeated local folklore. Fact and fiction had got entangled and the actual truth lay shrouded in wreaths of antiquity. Some said it was haunted; others claimed with solemn nods of their heads that it was the abode of the 'witch' of Haripur; still many believed that it was a deserted cremation ground....the speculations were endless as was the juicy gossip that flowed freely from the toothless mouths of the old ladies of Baadla.

A young girl venturing out along that route – and that, too, alone near dusk – was doomed to face some rather unsavory experiences for sure.

All these recollections flashed through Mrignaynee's mind as she looked down in frustration at the flat tire and thought of the extra hour that had been thrust upon her to reach home. First, the forced detour, and now this.

She cast a half-fearful, half-hopeful glance up and down the deserted, rough country road but it lay silent and uninhabited as far as the eye could see. She had never come on this road, and probably never would have. Unfortunately, a massive tree had fallen across her usual route, another narrow, country road, splintering all over the place and blockading her safe passage home.

As she began trudging the slightly elevated path, a shrill sound broke the stillness that was all around her. A sound so incongruous in that area that she jumped inspite of herself and despite the fact that she had heard it countless times earlier.

Her mobile phone!

A simple, basic model, lovingly gifted to her by her father when he had come to visit from the nearby town where he worked as a local landlord's account assistant. It was her source of joy and pride since she was the only girl in her village who possessed this ‘modern’ gadget. She was still getting used to how it worked.

But, how odd. The phone battery had died a few days ago and her village had been without electricity for the last few days. So, why was her phone still ringing?

She reached for the wired basket in the front, flicked open the flimsy lid and took out her phone. Curiosity…and then, somehow, an inexplicable stirring of alarm….as she tried to see the name that was flashing on the small illuminated blue screen.

She started. There was no number, no name, just a small square of empty, blinking blue screen and that shrill sound.

Her steps had slowed down even as she was checking the mobile with her left hand and dragging her bicycle with the other hand.

The ringing stopped as abruptly as it had begun. Heart now pounding, hands that had suddenly gone clammy, she lifted her eyes slowly from the device in her palm and looked up, turning her head slowly to the left and right and then twisting her neck to check behind her. Nobody....nothing.....and then, with a shock, she realized something. She had just entered the infamous 'basti'.

It was an area of about a hundred yards that erupted suddenly along the road. On either side, were the tall, closely placed and somewhat foreboding eucalyptus trees with the brown-green undergrowth, ragged bushes and other smaller plants growing in profusion all around. Before and after the 'basti', the road again emerged into open moorland, with rain-starved grassless knolls creating an undulating effect on either side of it.

A rustling noise that sounded close at hand had her hastening her pace even as she tried to stifle a scream that rose uncontrollably in her throat. What was happening? Would she ever reach home today?

The rustling, shuffling sound abruptly changed to that of running feet and terror engulfed the 20-year old as she flung her cycle onto the road and broke into a panic-stricken run.

Further ahead, she could make out where the road opened out again, but to her growing horror, it seemed as though every time she was about to burst into the open path, the dark trees closed over her again and once more she seemed further from her goal. The remnants of daylight still filled the opening but it seemed to keep going away from her.

She lost count of time....against her will, her running feet began to slacken their pace and a few minutes later she had collapsed to the ground into an exhausted heap. Her breath was coming in gasps and she knew she was incapable of taking another step forward.

Suddenly, she stiffened, every sinew in her body poised for flight again. That was surely a footstep...slow, measured steps, crunching on the gravel behind her. She dared not look behind. Every bit of village gossip seemed to be coming alive. What her educated and logical brain had scornfully tossed aside as mumbo-jumbo concocted by idle, illiterate villagers, was now painfully real.

Prayer after prayer escaped her parched lips as she urgently invoked all the gods and goddesses to save her from whatever monstrosity that was stalking her. As she remained crouched for what seemed like an eternity, dry leaves began flying around her, and she watched in fascinated horror as they developed a life of their own. The swirling mass of large dried leaves, raced along the road, as if driven by an unseen force, and slowly began to form a churning, swiveling tower right on the path in the front of her, effectively blocking her escape route.

She knew she was doomed. What had she done to bring such a calamity upon herself? What evil deed was she being punished for? She desperately cast her mind back to the morning. That bitter war of words with her grandmother was a daily affair. Surely, retribution had come rather late in the day, if that was what had triggered this supernatural turn of events? Or, was it the false story she had told her mother regarding why her closest friend, Suhana, had stopped coming to the local college? There was another possibility, but she didn't want to think about it. She couldn't be chastised for that, no matter how wrong it seemed in the eyes of society. No, she would never regret that...even if it meant having to face this strange horror that was unfolding before her.

Somehow, in that one blinding instant of self-discovery, she found the strength, the courage, to face and overcome whatever it was that was trying to terrorise her. She heaved herself up to her full height. At five feet two inches she qualified only as 'average', but at this moment, she felt about six feet tall.

Fixing her eyes on the tornado-like activity that was blocking her passage, she willed herself to push one foot forward after the other. It took every ounce of her strength but she managed to reach within blinking distance of that peculiar churning mass of leaves.

A curious humming sound emanated from its center and the very air around it seemed to crackle. It was as though one will was being pitted against another and only the stronger would leave that shadowy, deserted 'basti' that evening.

Standing so close to that ‘tower’, Mrignayanee felt her hair stand on end and as though the very life force was being sucked out of her. It was all she could do to hold her ground, and look steadfastly up at it. Some ancient memory unlocked itself within the deep recesses of her brain. This ‘tower’ was both her obstacle as well as her escape route. And she had the power to make that choice. Fear would entrap her here forever but courage would liberate her for all time to come......

“Why did you stop? Go on. Did you reach home that evening?” quavered a small voice.

Mrignayanee looked down at her grandson, all of five, but with enough charm and guile to make the whole village eat out of his hands.

She hugged him to her and said, “I walked through that ‘tower’ you know…and here I am,” she ended on a little laugh.

“Wow, grandma, you are so brave!” exclaimed Anay before scampering off to catch the black and white kitten playing near their boundary wall that had suddenly caught his attention.

Mrignayanee stared after him, not seeing either him or the kitten but once again that long, isolated stretch of 'basti' which she had traversed to reach home that evening, so many summers ago.

A lot of answers to puzzling questions had fallen into place that day. She had chosen a torturous, tough path for herself but had never regretted it. It had left her emotionally scarred and battle-weary but inwardly serene and content. She had made her choices and lived by them. And that was the only life worth living really....