a ghost story

One day, a tale of ghosts emerged, sparking beliefs and skepticism among individuals. Neela, positioned between the two camps, adamantly dismissed the existence of ghosts and disembodied spirits. She frequently admonished the children of the household, challenging the notion of ghosts: were they truly real? Why did people ghost? What was the rationale behind their fear?

While Neela's focus was primarily on children, she had encountered numerous accounts from various individuals claiming that ghosts induced fear when encountered alone during the evening or late at night. These apparitions manifested in diverse forms, and even the most valiant men succumbed to fear, their confidence shattered as their minds were gripped by shock. According to popular belief, when confronted with ghosts, one was never truly alone, prompting a hasty retreat to evade any potential mishaps.

One particular day, I was taken aback upon witnessing children engrossed in books revolving around ghosts. Suddenly, the voice of Dadu, my grandfather, reverberated throughout the room. Neela had frequented that place before, resulting in a profound terror that gripped her soul. I didn't have sufficient time to ponder the haphazard words that had escaped my mouth before I found myself standing in front of my grandfather. Dadu queried, "Why are you creating such a commotion, mentioning ghosts? Have you ever encountered one? Do you genuinely believe in their existence, or are you anticipating an encounter with a ghost?"

Neela, the nonbeliever, retorted, "I don't believe in ghosts, but you seem to. What is the reason behind your belief?" Dadu calmly affirmed, "Yes, I believe in ghosts, as I have personally experienced encounters with these ethereal beings. They are disembodied souls, floating amidst the air, permeating every corner of existence. However, I advise against speaking ill of them, as they possess a vengeful nature. It doesn't take much to provoke their wrath."

Dadu's words left me trembling with fear. I pondered upon the fact that Dadu had never uttered falsehoods or spoken of illusory matters. Knowing this, I inquired, "Grandpa, have you truly witnessed ghosts?" Dadu, wise and experienced, responded, "I speak from personal experience, but I have refrained from sharing these encounters with anyone. Grandpa, you shouldn't tell your story now; it may perpetuate a plethora of ghostly notions," I earnestly cautioned. Dadu, contemplating my words momentarily, responded, "I will heed your advice for now. However, I shall share my experiences with everyone at home, right after our evening tea."

Consequently, when evening arrived, the entire family gathered in Dadu's room, awaiting his revelations. Mother personally prepared and dexterously served tea. Each family member's mind brimmed with anticipation, aware that they were about to witness a profound revelation akin to encountering a ghost. Dadu delicately sipped his tea, his countenance observed closely by everyone, their eyes fixated, awaiting the imminent disclosure.

Dadu commenced, "Many of you were not even born when the incident occurred. At that time, the surrounding forests lay desolate, devoid of any signs of human habitation. Various species of animals that once roamed freely no longer grace our presence. As night descended, darkness would envelop everything, with only the flickering light from lamps illuminating each dwelling. Now, consider the stark contrast between those days and the present."

I recall a day when I was returning from Faridpur city. The case I was involved in demanded a considerable amount of time for resolution. Transportation options were limited, consisting of tin-can-like buses and horse-drawn carriages that I hadn't encountered before. Unable to find a car, I ultimately resorted to walking. During that time, my body harbored immense strength and valor, completely devoid of any fear towards ghosts.

It was well past midnight when I found myself walking beneath a partially obscured moon in the sky, trying to traverse a mile-long distance to reach home. The road was flanked by bushes and towering trees, creating an eerie ambiance. Suddenly, from a nearby garden on the left, a tree branch snapped and fell directly onto the road, approximately fifty yards away from me. Plagued by curiosity, I stopped to observe this peculiar occurrence. Despite the tranquil nature of the environment, the weighty branch's untimely descent hinted at the manipulative intervention of some imperceptible spirit.

I had heard tales that when confronted alone at night, ghosts would lay fresh bamboo stalks across one's path. Should an individual attempt to step over the bamboo, in the blink of an eye, it would rise along with the person, constricting their mobility. Even if one cautiously attempted to lower themselves, the ghost or the bamboo itself would restrain their movement.

Recalling these cautionary stories, I purposefully snapped a branch from a nearby tree and proceeded forward. Approaching the fallen branch, I struck it against the ground with my newfound makeshift weapon. Without delay, the branch vanished into the forest, disappearing amidst a flurry of movement. A shiver ran down my spine as I contemplated whether my actions would yield unforeseen consequences, plunging me into imminent danger. Nevertheless, with the stick embedded firmly in my grip, a newfound boldness permeated my being as I continued my journey.

Abruptly, LB's horse neighed, piercing the stillness of the night. After scanning my surroundings fruitlessly, I finally directed my gaze towards the ground, only to find a kitten as white as fresh snowflakes. Puzzled, I pondered: what could this innocent creature possibly pose as a threat? Was it a whimsical figment of my imagination? I softly chided the kitten, asking, "Why are you following me? Clearly, you are no one's pet. Had you been, I would've gladly taken you home." The young feline responded to my gentle call and leisurely vanished into the bushes.

My mind buzzed with excitement from this enthralling encounter. Directly ahead lay a small, empty field, flanked by blacksmiths' homes on the left. A vine-covered pond glistened in the moonlight, accompanied by a few palm trees nearby. The broken moon glimmered dimly in the western sky while a gentle breeze rustled through the surroundings, seemingly lulling nature into a deep slumber. As I took a right turn, leaving the pond behind, I spotted two sizable foxes situated right in the middle of the road. Raising my wooden branch, I sternly reprimanded their audacity, emphasizing the source of my perceived power.

The foxes paid no heed to my words, fixating their gaze upon me. At that moment, a faint sense of danger filled the air. Sensing potential harm, I stopped approximately ten feet away from these curious predators. Unbeknownst to myself, I involuntarily began reciting Bismillah, seeking spiritual comfort. After a considerable interval, the two foxes simultaneously emitted a peculiar call. Subsequently, they turned around and scurried away into the wilderness, leaving me pondering their inexplicable behavior.