I have read the ghost stories by the talented MT contributors. And am very impressed. I have never written fiction, or any thing, which required a leap of imagination. Most of mine is feature writing, and little articles based on facts. So I didn’t feel confident to take part in the competition.
But as it is the Halloween, and I thought I will tell you a true story. Something which happened to my family. It is true, as it has been in the book called “The Poltergeist” by Colin Wilson. This book is an investigation in the phenomena.
And the story, was given to him by my father. He was not paid for this, but was given a signed copy of the book.
This happened when I must have been about six or seven year old. We lived in the southern city of Hyderabad in India. In a very large and old house, some way, away from the city. It was a huge area with only about three houses there. The house has two storeys, huge rooms and a very old Tamrind tree.Which shaded the open staircase, at the front of the house.
The upstairs was where my parents lived. Downstairs was the rooms of my grand parents, two young aunts ,and the open area had the servants quarters.
I remember this vividly, it was a summers evening. My parents were sitting on the balcony upstairs, and I was perched on the huge floor cushion, trying to convince that really didn’t like the home tutor who came to teach me maths. Not that I just didn’t like the subject, and still don’t!
It was then that the first stone landed. A small, round stone; the size of a Ducks egg. It just missed me and fell by my side. My father wondered briefly, and carried on lecturing me on the benefits of education.
And then a bigger thud and a slightly larger stone landed by my mothers feet.
This was a bit alarming, m father got up to investigate, and there was another one.
Soon they were raining down, stones and pieces of bricks. All coming in rapid succession, not hitting anyone, but just landing on the floor.
My father and the servants went outside and walked around the house, but there was nothing to see.
This continued for two weeks. Every day at the same time, around 4pm or so, we will get this raining down of stones. The police were guarding our house. And as my father was an Army officer, we had soldiers guarding our house. All completely helpless to do anything, when the stones will start coming.
They will draw their arms and shout as the ran in all directions, trying to spot the culprit, or anyone who could be responsible.
This ended as abruptly, as it has started. Till this day none of us know what it was all about.
India has superstitions and beliefs in various entities. I was told later that the old tree had the spirit of a Gin, or a poltergeist. My father of course didn’t believe all this, but could never find an explanation to those strange happenings. He met the author of the book and they had long discussions but don’t think they came to any conclusion.
I know a lot of you will also think that it is all rubbish, but I can vouch for it.
And that house, it was called “Bait-ul- Habib”,or the house for a friend , was never again occupied after we left. It was burnt down while empty. And no one knows, how the fire started.
Am sorry, I have no flair for story telling, but it is that time of the year,and I wanted to tell you a true story.