It was the month of heavy thunderous rain in Kerala, the month of June. As I always had a thing for antique collections, I was just home drenched in the rain after my visit to the antique shop. You see, in Kerala you’ll get drenched even if you hold an umbrella, believe me, I’m talking from my experience here. So there I was; shivering and fiddling with my door keys, holding on to my latest object of interest, a typewriter.

Perhaps it is because of my childhood interest in writing that made me buy that beauty.

As I was sitting on my couch leisurely watching my usual dose of Comedy Nights with Kapil, I heard a noise from the study room. It was loud and strange. It was already late night. I took it for a warning and started readying myself to go to bed. Then I heard it again. Now, it was clearer. The noise started with a loud bang and then the sounds continued, smaller and slower this time. It was a mechanical tone. I started searching for the source of this-the windows, checked under the bed; nothing. Still the noise continued. I began to go frantic. Just then, I noticed my typewriter. Its keys were moving. But there was nobody there. It was like as if someone invisible was typing on it. I looked closer, suddenly; the typing came to a halt. Sweating and breathing heavily,...