An eerie darkness shrouded them. They were not afraid. Though. Silence…and then a blast of a voice. “Aage jaao….mmm….aage jaao”. A demented hand appears. Moving its fingers in unknown directions…The sound: coarse…The pitch: high, very high…”Left left…right right”…confused by itself. And the darkness. Two should-be-ghosts trying to show them the path…the path forward…the path away from their territory…
The path in front of the steps was occupied by Adityan and Ananya; the Rajneekanth and the commander-in-chief. A flurry of intensely light connotations about the God (Rajni) himself. And an eccentric suggestion for proposing girls from the lord of eccentricities himself.
“ऐ तितली कभी यहाँ भी तो उड़ ”
Time rushed on in fritters. Fifteen minutes, 30 minutes…one and half hour…we know how to use our time. More than anybody else. We know many things in addition to it. We know how to scream in front of AD. We know how to use the expression अंगूर खट्टे हैं to its full measure and the next day making it public that अंगूर अब मीठे हो गए हैं. We are realists. We laugh at poor jokes. We laugh and fall back. We don’t want to humiliate Newton. And Daljeet.
There are very few people in this world who can manage to take care of all. In fact there are not many who even want to do it. She belongs to those few. She is amiable. She is pleasantly timid. She laughs a lot. Even at the stupidest of jokes. She has a great camera and she is very sweet. The best part of her is her simplicity, simplicity in her thoughts. It makes her vulnerable. But it, in fact, is a shield to the outside world. I know people feel proud when they say that Kanchan is their friend. Kanchan means Gold…
Kanchan and Gullu were holding both of his hands. He proposed me to hold one of his legs. I couldn’t of course. Pranav was laughing at the monstrosity of Bhoots…while holding off to his shirt…He wanted to save it from the girls. There were eight bhoots in total. Each bhoot was to get 5 rupees from each of us.
Gurleen: the sophisticated Punjaban
Not that punjabis are not sophisticated (but are they?), but we do enjoy this Johnsonian viewpoint. Gurleen aka Gullu is the most sublime, most exquisitely mannered girl of our group. She speaks less, occasionally, with irregular spurts of laughter making her presence felt…and she posts a lot of links of a lot of punjaabi songs on her facebook wall. She is hard to read.
The protagonists forwarded their steps in precarious anticipations…there were hairs hanging down from the roof. They removed them with their hands. There were no ghosts. But they were there. One split of second and the den would be filled with clattering din…chains sliding on the ground…windows closing and opening intermittently…shrieking hard…making girls shriek even harder…
“Yo Daljeet”. We are great fans of Ila Arun. She is our guiding spirit. Her eyes are our eyes. Her round black dark classic spectacles are our shield. Her Ghagra. No it’s a sacrilege to speak of her Ghagra…
“अरे दिल्ली सहर मैं माहरो घागरो जो घूम्यो”
Ananya Sikka: the commander in chief
She is a formidable persona. And she is an artist. There are not many artists who are so sure of themselves and their ideas. She is selective. Armed with a great sense of humor, she knows how to react in a particular situation. People respect her for that. But there is also a sense of caution. Ananya Sikka is someone who is a woman of action. And she is a hygiene enthusiast. She does not like bad manners and definitions of bad manner are very stiff in her view. But there is a soft corner in her which appears at times, when she starts describing her taste for music. People tend to show their inner-self, unknowingly sometimes, when they speak about what they like. ‘Ananya’ is derived from two Sanskrit words An (not) and Anya (other). Ananya means ‘unique’.
The shrieks of girls rose to unbearable levels. I am sure the ‘bhoots’ present there were not feeling happy. I am sure that they wanted themselves to escape then. So they tried to appear fiercer. They failed of course. They were afraid of them…the girls…So they changed their strategy. They tried to pluck out the things of intruders. They succeeded once. One of their specs was successfully removed. There was chaos. There was anarchy. There was something pleasant about the ambience. I like when people show their true self. The ghosts were continuously chanting in drooling voices: Jaaaaooooooo….jaaoooooooo…right….nahi left….haan left….are jaa meri maa….
Ashwarya Samkarya: Ayn Rand.
I don’t know why but I see Ayn Rand in her. She is a scholar. She knows it but she never shows off. She is good natured. She is good humored. She uses the element of alliteration to great benefit. She is funny. She will be a great teacher, of she wishes to be. She is a lady.
We walk to the scary fort. We ask people around. The shopkeepers. The rickshwalas. It was a pilgrimage we had taken to purify our souls. We wanted to see the souls of dead. Yes…But anticipation was still there. Abhimanyu once proclaimed that scary fort was not a forte after all, but an amusement park. We reached chhota gol chakkar. We walked. We talked. We were the enthusiastic group of inglees onurs kilaas. And we reached the scary fort…bhoot bangla…a building with a bhutiya sentinel in front of it…
जय माता दी