Agartala, Tripura
Today is Saturday. From tomorrow, the winter vacation starts. The students of Nischintapur Model School are in holiday spirits. We have a break after the fourth period. The third period was Bill Sir’s math class.
It was quite intense. To take a brief respite, I went out of the class on the pretext of going to the toilet. I met Piklu in the toilet. He too had left the class to avoid the rigorous lecture. I learned from Piklu that Habul had caused a big scene in front of many people yesterday evening. He doesn't want to see Habul’s face anymore. That's why he has decided to skip school today. We decided to meet Habul after the vacation.
On the way back home, I saw Habul. Yesterday's storm had left a distinct impression on the poor guy’s face.
“What happened yesterday, Habul?” I asked, noticing the turmoil in his eyes. Habul broke down and explained everything.
Yesterday afternoon, Habul had gone to Setu kaka’s shop. The orange-colored, ghee-filled laddoos at Setu kaka’s shop are irresistible. Habul, unable to resist the allure, had tried to get some laddoos but was unable to pay. Setu kaka had berated him in front of others. Later, in the evening, Habul’s father had been informed, leading to severe reprimand for Habul. This humiliation felt like a personal affront to us.
Piklu, agitated, said, “There must be punishment. This cannot go unaddressed.”
I asked, “Punishment for whom?”
Habul understood Piklu's gesture. He said, “Setu kaka.”
Are we going to punish someone like Setu kaka? I looked at Piklu in astonishment.
Piklu was our intellectual leader. Quiet yet extremely perceptive about such matters. He confidently said, “Leave it to me.”
Upon hearing this, it seemed as if all of Habul’s humiliation was temporarily forgotten. He asked, “What’s the plan?”
Piklu smiled and said, “It will be revealed in due course. I will take care of everything.”
Piklu, with his usual calm demeanor, responded, “Tonight, Saturday night, everything will be sorted.”
Habul and I looked at each other. It seemed like Piklu had become the leader of our trio. He instructed, “Bring some old newspapers, papers, tools, and old clothes.”
Following Piklu’s instructions, we gathered the required items and headed to a broken hostel room at the end of the school ground. Inside the room, Piklu meticulously spread out a sheet of paper and began to paint it black with bamboo sticks and old clothes. Habul and I sat beside him, watching in silence. I didn’t have the courage to ask anything, overwhelmed by Piklu’s serious demeanor.
After a while, I realized that Piklu was creating a depiction of skeletal remains from our biology book. Using black cloth, he filled in the remaining spaces to make it look like bones. He even made two sets of these skeletal models. Habul protested, “Piklu! Are you out of your mind? How will this be a punishment for Setu kaka?”
I began to wonder if Piklu was planning some sort of tantric ritual or punishment using these skeletal models. I asked in fear, “What are you going to do with all this? Please explain.”
Piklu, looking at Habul, simply replied, “By evening, I will be at your backyard pond.”
Habul’s house is adjacent to Setu kaka’s house. In front of Setu kaka’s house, there is a large pond. It is possible to reach Habul’s house by crossing this pond.
After finalizing the plan, we prepared to leave for home. Piklu instructed, “Be cautious. Make sure no one sees you.” I wrapped the skeletal models in a newspaper and headed home.
By dusk, we reached the pond. The environment around the pond, filled with flowering trees, was enchanting. From Setu kaka’s kitchen, a little light was filtering through the foliage. Meanwhile, the neighborhood’s Shani temple was echoing with prayers and the sound of conch shells. Suddenly, Piklu appeared, asking, “Are you ready?”
I replied, “Yes, but where is Habul?”
“He will come,” said Piklu, extending his hand for the items. Even then, I couldn’t understand the plan completely. Habul joined us from behind. Piklu directed, “Tie them up and hang them from the trees.” He showed us where to place the models. Habul seemed to be fulfilling all of Piklu’s instructions with respect. One model was hung from a branch of a tree by the pond, and another was hung from a mango tree’s branch. By now, I had understood Piklu’s exact intentions. I said, “Setu kaka will definitely see this tonight!”
Every night, we would enter the area near the pond. The skeletal models were clearly visible under the dim light. It seemed like they were swaying in the wind. Habul remarked, “Some say that ghosts reside in that area of the pond.” Piklu, with a scholarly smile, said, “That’s why I set it up here. It will be effective.”
Habul added, “If our imitation ghosts scare Setu kaka, the real ghosts might get angry.” Piklu, irritated, said, “Nonsense! Are there even real ghosts?” I, feeling embarrassed, said nothing further. Nonetheless, Piklu’s approach seemed logical.
After waiting for some time, we three started to observe from the edge of the pond. The night was calm, and the eerie silence made it seem like an ongoing dinner party was happening. The wait was prolonged. There was no sign of Setu kaka.
As evening fell, sounds began emanating from Setu kaka’s house. It was about 6 PM. Then, Setu kaka’s son Antor started reciting loudly - he was performing the recitation of the Sindhu civilization's texts. Every year, Antor would complete his recitation by sunset. We hoped that Antor would pass the exam well. We remained hidden in the darkness. Habul, suddenly excited, said, “Be careful, everyone! Setu kaka is coming back. We need to go to the pond now.”
We were intrigued and watched closely. Piklu, in a knowledgeable manner, said, “Stay quiet and be patient.”
In the dim light, we saw Setu kaka approaching, singing and humming. He seemed to be looking up at the trees where we had hung the skeletal models. The soft breeze made the models sway. Setu kaka, startled, screamed, “Oh my God! Ghosts! Ghosts! Save me! Antor, where are you? Ghosts! Ghosts!” At the same time, there was a splash sound and dogs started barking around. I was about to call out, but Piklu held my hand firmly and said, “Wait. Otherwise, we might get caught.”
Soon, several people arrived, shouting.
Piklu and I moved forward after a while. We saw Antor, with closed eyes, chanting Ram-Ram, trying to lift Setu kaka from the pond. Several others were helping as well. Setu kaka, who was struggling in the water, was eventually pulled out by Antor and the others.
Haru kaka asked, “Where are the ghosts?” Setu kaka, trembling, said, “There were not one but two ghosts.” He pointed to where they had been.
Haru kaka, with a foreign torch, shone light on the area where the skeletal models were. In the cold breeze, the models swayed. Another model was also found nearby. Everyone started laughing. We three remained silent, not amused. We later left unnoticed. Haru kaka said, “Oh, it’s the hostel boys' prank. They were roaming around this area during the evening.”
The three of us discussed among ourselves and expressed our relief. We felt quite satisfied seeing Setu kaka’s condition. Antor, too, seemed to be smiling. Setu kaka, like a child, was helped by Antor to get out of the water and went home. The whole incident provided a good lesson.
After everyone left, we three were walking back across the pond when suddenly the electricity went out. It seemed like there was a power failure. We were then in total darkness at the edge of the pond. We were startled, and an eerie silence enveloped us. A faint noise of insects could be heard. Habul, feeling scared, said, “I’m really frightened.”
Piklu remained silent. I was also anxious, with a sense of foreboding. The atmosphere seemed mysterious. We heard splashing sounds from the pond. I tried to cry out, but my voice was stuck. Habul gripped my hand tightly. Piklu said, “Look up.”
I looked up and saw two skeletal models hanging from the broken branches of the trees. Even in the dark, I could see them swaying. Both models were laughing eerily. Habul and I were too frightened to react. It felt like the ghosts were mocking us. I was overwhelmed, and Habul was crying, saying, “The ghosts are angry with us.” Piklu, feeling frustrated, threw the models into the pond. I was about to climb out when the models suddenly started to move. They laughed heartily and then stopped. I couldn’t say anything more. We left the scene, realizing the lesson learned.