There is something about old Forest Rest Houses (and maybe PWD Rest Houses too) that attracts ghostly visitations. There are any number of incidents that have been recounted and/or recorded about such hauntings and encounters. Ruskin Bond and Meenakshi Chaudhary are two people I know who have written entire books on the subject. There are many others too who have written on this subject, but I cannot recollect all the names.
The first story I read was about the Tonga driver who plied his horse carriage between Sanjauli and Lakkar Bazaar in Shimla. He would often scare passengers by turning his neck a full 180 degrees to ask them where they wanted to go. Then there was the one about the House Master of Bishop Cotton School accosting a faceless student near the school gate. In the Forest Research Institute, Dehra Dun, people would avoid walking after dark towards the Main Gate on Brandis Road, fearing they would be accosted by the ‘Headless Rider’. Though I lived in the FRI for over a decade, I was never fortunate enough to meet this apparition.
One place that I did have an inexplicable experience was at Habban, in Rajgarh Division. I had gone on my first inspection of the forests in the area and, after a hard day’s work, settled down on the porch of the log cabin in Habban for a much needed cuppa. The Forest Range Officer, Mr. PP Kaushik, after finishing his tea, asked me at what time he should expect me at his residence. Till then I had no inkling that I was to be his guest for dinner. I had told my peon in the morning itself that we would have a simple rice and daal dinner and I presumed it was being prepared in the kitchen even as we spoke. When I told Kaushik that I would have a light meal at the FRH itself, and turn in early, he became serious. “Sir,” he said, “You would do well not to stay here in this cabin at night. I have a spare room in my residence, which I have prepared for your stay. You will be most comfortable there.”
“And why should I not stay at the cabin,” I asked. The FRH was quite close to the village bus stand, hence I presumed that Kaushik was concerned that I would be disturbed by the noises of the village and, maybe, the drunkards loitering about at night. What he said astounded me, but also raised my curiosity.
“Sir”, he said, “This FRH is haunted. Many visitors have reported strange goings on here. This is your first visit here. I would not like anything unpleasant to happen while you are here. I sincerely request you to stay with me during your sojourn here.” I did not believe in ghosts or such-like. His words, therefore, far from deterring me, made me all the more determined to spend the night in the cabin. After another couple of attempts at convincing me, Kaushik gave up and left for his residence some way up the hill, but not before directing the Chowkidar to keep an eye open for anything untoward.
Having finished dinner, I bade goodbye to my peon, bolted the door from within and got under the covers. Lighting the bedside lamp, I picked a book. I never could fall asleep without reading a chapter or two after getting into bed. At about 11pm, I put aside the book, a crime thriller, switched off the bedside lamp, and prepared myself for sleep. Just when I was about to drop off, at that stage when one is more asleep than awake, I heard what sounded like a loud clap. It seemed to come from right beside my bed. As my eyes snapped open, I saw that the room was flooded with light. I distinctly remembered switching of the electric lamp, but it was glowing brightly – as was the overhead light.
Thinking that perhaps I had forgotten to switch off the lights, I got out of bed, switched off the overhead light and the bedside lamp, and got into bed again. Kaushik’s warning did not occur to me at that time.
After fifteen minutes, as I was on the verge of drifting off to sleep again, that sharp clap sounded again. This time, the lights had not come on, but there was a creaking sound as of a door opening or closing. I got out of bed, switched on the overhead light, picked up my torch and headed towards the door of the room. To my surprise, the door was open; although I was sure I had shot the bolt before preparing for bed. I switched on the flashlight and stepped out of the cabin. As I walked around the cabin, expecting to find a tree branch knocking against a window pane, I felt no wind, nor did I find any branches even remotely close to the sides of the cabin. After circumambulation of the cabin, and finding nothing out of the normal, I carefully stepped into my room, consciously shot the tower bolt inside the door, consciously switched off all lights, and got into bed. By now it was past midnight. Before closing my eyes, I mentally recited the few lines of the Hanuman Chalisa that I knew.
I do not know when I fell asleep or whether there were any more claps in the night. I woke up fairly well rested and feeling fresh. I did not recount my nocturnal experience to either the chowkidar, or my peon, or the Range Officer. Later, whenever I thought about the incident, I put it down to my overworked imagination. Maybe it was my tiredness; maybe it was the idea Kaushik had planted in my head; or maybe it was the story I had been reading that night. Whatever it was, it was quite an experience ….. and inexplicable, at that!
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