The Midnight Rendezvous

A cousin from Ahmadabad had dropped in, after a very long time. We were sharing our memoirs and travel experiences and soon, our tete-a-tete wound itself around , perhaps one of the most sought after travel topics, ... about the paranormal experiences of road rangers.

Not all Bengal Villages are well connected. While some have metaled roads others still need to be traversed by foot

Actually I had been to Kolkata some time back and was recounting to my cousin a very recent experience by my maternal uncle. My maternal uncle, Mamaji, is a medic by profession, and a truly down to earth charitable person with a passion to go and reach out to masses in the remotest of villages in Bengal. His other passion is to fix up and run what others think is dead and thing of the past and not worth a thought be it a human being or an object from the material World. It is this fire in the heart that has seen him fix up two vehicles, a M-800 and an old Amby which satisfy his third passion; of traveling, in the form of numerous trips to the distant Bengal villages.

It was during the summer vacations I had a chance to ride the Amby when he had come to receive us at Sealdah Station. When the 8 of us including the driver had reached our destination a good 60 km from Kolkata, a beaming Mamaji asked me how I felt about the ride and the car. Frankly, all the while as I sat on the front seat of the car during the ride from Kolkata, I had this uncanny feeling that the AC was running outside the car instead of inside. I didn't have the heart or courage to tell Mamaji that the AC evaporator and the condenser were perhaps not in the places they were ought to be. I confess, I smiled and lied... and lied.

Most of Mamaji's experiences is woven around this old Amby. By the time I had heard enough of Mamaji's tales, I had this feeling that I wouldn't be surprised if one fine day, the old Amby vanished into thin air, not in the Bermuda or Golden Triangle, but in some unheard of desolate Bengal hamlet.

It was a moonless humid monsoon night. Mamaji was returning from Udaynarainpur a remote village in West Bengal. Naresh his driver was uttering something. Leaving behind the chain of thoughts he was deeply engrossed in, Mamaji instinctively looked at the the old faithful HMT, on his wrist. The needles showed it was close to 2am. “Sair aapnio ki kisu suntae parsen...?” (Sir ar you also hearing something?) Naresh asked again. There were sounds of bell tinkling all around. Staring out into the pitch darkness Mamaji was trying to gather where they were going through. It was Naresh once again announcing their location. They were still a couple of hours away from home.

Serene country side roads weaving through dense forests and vegetation can be frightening to travel on at night

The tinkling of bells was getting louder and louder as they approached a nearby village. A couple of minutes later Naresh brought the car to a halt. In front of them blocking the narrow carraigeway was a broken down truck. A man reeking with the smell of alcohol, approached them and demanded where they were heading for. Naresh had standing instructions not to give or offer lifts or talk to strangers so he kept quiet while Mamaji did the talking. Mamaji rolled down the window and told him who he was and where he had to go. “Yes, yes I know... arn't you dagdar (Doctor) babu, I've heard about you, but Sir this truck won't move it has a broken axle. You roll your car down the slope of the carrageway and you will find a path leading to the old Kali Mandir, follow the path around the Kali Mandir and you will find the path meeting this highway...” saying this he jumped down to the pathway beckoning Mamaji. Naresh slowly eased the car down the slope and proceeded as directed by the man.

Soon they could see the Kali Temple in the beam from the car. The sounds of ringing bells had also increased and Mamaji was convinced they were coming from the Temple. But something seemed odd. The temple was closed and not a single soul was to be seen. Then who were ringing the bells? “kire Naresh Ki hochhe aei shob...” (Hey Naresh what do you think is happening...?) Mamaji heard himself asking Naresh. They were passing by the temple and the sounds of the bells were deafening. Naresh without stopping the car sped on towards the highway. As they approached the highway the sound receded then completely stopped. Both Mamaji and Naresh were drenched in perspiration. Naresh was now speeding on the highway. Suddenly the car screeched to a halt. In front of them stood a white goat right in the middle of the highway. It sprinted away from them in the direction of the beam from the car and as it moved away, it seemed to morph itself to a cow and then to a villager draped in whites. They could hear in the silence of the night a male voice muttering “Jaa aei jatrae benchegeli... jaa bari ja shigiri...” (Go you have just been saved this time... go, go home quickly...), saying this the form vanished into thin air. With a start Mamaji looked out of the window, hoping to find the speaker of those words, but there was no one to be seen.

Dilapidated structures like the ones show ar not uncommon in Bengal villages and the village folk believe they come alive in the middle of the night.

Due to the sudden application of brakes, the car had stalled. Naresh, after putting it in neutral gear, switched off the headlights and twisted the ignition key to start the engine. Nothing happened. They were stalled in the middle of nowhere. Naresh tried his best to revive the old braveheart but it would not oblige. Far behind them they could hear the approach of a vehicle. Tension was beginning to build up and Mamaji alighted from the car to help Naresh move it away from the middle of the road. As they were heaving and pushing a vehicle stopped behind them. It was a truck. Mamaji went up to the driver and requested the driver if he would tow them to the nearest service garage. The driver readily obliged. The three some along with the cleaner of the truck pushed Mamaji's car aside to make way for the truck. A little later they were on the move again, This time Mamaji's in his Amby towed by the truck.

Mamaji was again looking at his watch, it was close to 3:30 am and in the horizon he could now make out the silhouette of known landmarks which fell on the way. “Naresh isn't there a garage about a kilometer down this place....?” Mamaji had barely spoken these words, the car suddenly came back to life. The headlights were shining brightly and in the Beam Mamaji could clearly see the back of the truck, which was now moving away from them. The registration plate of the truck and the brightly painted scenery on back panels of the truck. They were the same ones they had seen some time ago on the truck with the broken axle standing in the middle of the road. Neither Mamaji nor Naresh, realised when the rope connecting the truck to the car had come off.

Naresh stepped on the gas pedal to catch up with the truck which had by this time disappeared. They drove on along the straight highway at various speeds, but the truck could not be traced. Some months later, Mamaji while traveling on the same highway, but, this time in broad daylight, stopped by the village temple and had tried to talk to the locals. No one was willing talk on the issue, instead every one he tried to talk simply said no one goes near the temple after sunset.

Mamaji is unmoved and he still goes to far flung places to offer free medical services and still has to travel during unearthly hours. Though a little shaken from the incedent, Naresh still drives Mamaji to places. Mamaji however believes, that on the fateful day, Naresh and he were steered away from some disaster by friendly spirits.

Note :
Pictures used in this blog have been clicked in Bengal country side and villages and have been used to represent the kind of Country side and Terrain my Mamaji traverses to treat patients and are not directly related to the places mentioned in the Blog. Any similarities in the locations mentioned in the blog to the pictures is purely coincidental.