Katni, Madhya Pradesh
At that time, I was studying for my M.Sc. Before the festival, I went to my aunt’s house in Sutohata with festival clothes. As I’ve been in Kolkata since birth, my heart doesn’t long to leave the green, rural surroundings. I am roaming around with my cousin brother Kajol.
Suddenly, I remembered that our neighbourhood’s Tapu da had joined the government hospital in Kukrahati about two years ago. I thought I should go visit him. It would be good to see Tapu da after such a long time and have a good time together. So, I did just that. I went to Kukrahati with Kajol. Kajol is a local guy. He directly took me to Tapu da’s quarter. At that time, Tapu da was locking the door and wearing his stethoscope, probably going for his rounds at the hospital. As we approached, someone saw us and was equally surprised and happy, saying,
“Hey Billirani, where did you drop in from? And who is this with you?”
Tapu da has always called me Billirani since childhood, but hearing Kajol’s name made him laugh so much that I almost had an I.D.P.D (Indigestion of Public Display) incident. I quickly said,
“I came to Sutohata to visit my aunt, and I thought I would come to see you too. This is my cousin Kajol.”
“I have about half an hour of work at the hospital. You come along. Sit there for a bit, then we’ll return together and have a good chat. You’ve informed in your home, right? Have lunch here today. I’ll treat you to duck egg porridge, poppy seed fritters, crispy fried potato, and spicey crab curry. Our cook makes such wonderful food. If you don’t eat, you’ll regret it, just saying.”
Just hearing the menu made my mouth water, and I couldn’t help but be eager. I followed Tapu da to the hospital. It was a small rural hospital, looking much like a trimmed square with four arms. From the broad paved road, if you walk down a narrow red laterite road, you come to an iron-grilled gate. Beyond the gate, there’s also a narrow laterite road ending at a single-story hospital building. There’s green grass on both sides of the road. In front of the U-shaped building, the ground is surrounded by a bamboo fence with a variety of green plants. I had never seen such a green and clean hospital in my life. Right outside the gate were small tea shops, fruit stalls, a small eatery, and a stationery shop. There was a medicine shop. The shops weren’t in one place but were spread out. I also noticed several cycle rickshaws and autos. There was quite a crowd. Several people were shouting and making a fuss around something or someone. Following Tapu da through the crowd, I saw a very thin, dirty man sitting on a high wooden stool with his head bowed. He sat unmoving, holding his knees with his hands, scratching the ground with his toenails. In front of him were some jasmine, rajnigandha, and belifool garlands, and incense sticks spread on a plastic sheet. The commotion stopped as Tapu da approached, and an elderly-looking man came forward and said,
“Look, doctor, this ghost’s offspring has set up shop again. I’ve been telling him to leave since then, but he’s not budging. If someone doesn’t deal with him, I’ll beat him to death. Tell the devil to get up properly.”
“Have you come again? Didn’t I tell you not to come?”
The man looked up at Tapu da. Those unnaturally white eyes were the most lifeless eyes I’ve ever seen, like dead fish. After staring for a while, he started packing up his shop.
“Hari, make sure you don’t see him within the hospital’s boundaries ever again. Otherwise, I’ll call the police, I’ve warned you.”
Tapu da said this in a stern tone and then led us to a small room with his name written on it. He turned on the light and fan, drew back the curtains, and said,
“Sit here for half an hour, I’ll be back.”
“Who was that person, Tapu da? What a frightening look he had.”
“Who knows who. No local knows him. He suddenly appears from somewhere with white garlands. He doesn’t come daily. He appears suddenly from time to time. Everyone here says that on the days he sets up his shop, someone dies in the hospital. And I won’t lie, Billi, it’s true. You know I don’t believe in supernatural or paranormal things, but even I have to admit that something is definitely there.”
Hearing such an explanation from a normally fearless person left me so unsettled that even after half an hour when Tapu da returned, Kajol and I were still sitting in stunned silence, staring at his face. Tapu da returned with a gloomy face and said that in their maternity ward, a nineteen-year-old new mother had suddenly died of breathing difficulties. The baby could not be saved. The girl’s family was searching for the flower seller to beat him. I felt so bad that I left without eating that day. After that, as time passed, I forgot about the incident. Many years later, during the festival, I went home again, along with my husband and two daughters. I now only visit home once a year from another state. After arriving, the younger daughter had a severe fever. On the sixth day, thinking where I would find a doctor, my mother said,
“Oh, our Radhi di’s eldest son Tapu has opened a chamber in the neighborhood. I saw him standing on the road talking to someone a little while ago. Why don’t you go to his house?”
“Oh, Tapu da, you should have told me earlier.”
Tapu da was at home. After examining my daughter, he said it was a common cold with swollen tonsils. He prescribed medicine. On the festival day, Tapu da’s wife made sure we didn’t leave without eating. While having tea with famous dalbora, kucho nimki, and other delicacies made by Radhi mashi, I asked,
“Tapu da, have you ever seen that person again?”
“What person, Billi?”
“The one who used to come to Kukrahati hospital with white garlands and whenever he did, someone would die.”
“Do you remember?”
“Yes. That’s why I’m asking.”
“I had a five-year posting there, you know? During my time, they built a new building with a seventy-two-bed ICU facility near that jetty, using a lot of land. The old building was left vacant. Only the ambulance garage and morgue were not moved. But people rarely went to that side unless necessary. The shops had also moved around the new building. A couple of days before I was to leave, I needed to go to the old hospital for some reason. I saw that man, you know, sitting there exactly like that with garlands. And on that day, the man had exactly one garland in front of him. I clearly remember. I have spent many nights in the morgue, dealt with the dead, yet suddenly I felt an eerie chill. I couldn’t see anyone around. I thought of calling someone from the new building to drive him away. After walking a bit on the red road, I saw one of our ambulances coming. The driver stopped the vehicle when he saw me. I told him. He was going that way anyway, so he picked me up too. When we reached, I saw the man lying down. I thought of pushing him away, but when I got close, I saw he was so decayed. Ants had already started eating him. Rats had also nibbled on him. There was a horrible stench of rotting flesh in the air. But the white garland on his chest was still completely fresh. I had seen the garland just a few minutes earlier as I sat in front of him, swaying him. Believe me.”
I could clearly see how shaken Tapu da was. Then he fell silent, lost in thought. Outside, music was playing from the pandal. Inside the house, the clinking sounds of snacks being prepared, and the laughter of Radhi mashi and my little one could be heard from the aquarium on the veranda. Yet, sitting so far from Kukrahati, even after all these years, I felt a shiver run down my spine. I remembered the unnaturally white eyes of that man and the strange, lifeless gaze like a dead fish. Even Radhi mashi’s delicious dalbora seemed somewhat bitter to me.