Holiday sounds quite fascinating, and to kids like Jatin it’s even great. He just longed for this holiday only the last holiday ended and it brings a great opportunity for him to explore different parts of the world once again. Shruti , Jatin and Golu were great friends and had stood by the other in every undertakings. At the dinner table , Shruti had placed her seat beside Jatin, and it was very usual as they had most of their meals together; for they were not just friends, but had an extraordinary family relations too. With the spoon in his mouth, Jatin tried to say something but Shruti couldn’t really understand. Her eyebrows lowered in a quest, following what, he pulled out the spoon and whispered to Shruti's ears – ‘how about going to the Mussoorie palace this holiday’, Shruti turned excited and stretching herself screamed enthusiastically – ‘yes ! I’ve heard, the palace is a great place to visit but . . .’
‘but what?’, Jatin interrupted;
Shruti hummed and added – ‘well, that house is quite haunted I’ve heard . . . and I don’t think our parents would anyway allow us to go there . . . ‘, she whispered with a broad eye. Reena, Jatin’s mother, was scuffling with the cutleries , serving the gravy, but her hands paused all of a sudden and her big round face turned to Jatin’s side. Pointing the spoon out a him, bereted with grinding teeth – ‘ Beware you, thinking of going there even’.
‘where, what are you saying aunt . . .? ’, Shruti interrupted wincing .
Reena forbade rebuking before Shruti so realising her presence she paused, but Jatin turned stunted at his place.
It was past the sleeping time – almost eleven o'clock. Her mother Geeta, came twice to call her back home, but she kept imposing to let her be with Jatin. Feeling lost and defeated, she walked away, thus letting Shruti and Jatin all by themselves for the necessary discussions tonight.
Around the lit lamp they sat crouched and bundled in the shawl as the night fell, it turned piercing cold, further spices of the compelling discussion had brought in coldness down their spine for sure. Shruti’s face lowered and her cute bubbly round cheeks glew in the bright lamp light.
‘now what . . .?’, she asked and gazed him with a raised eyebrow for the answer. Jatin still shivered with the voice of his mother; nodded lustily and continued in his persuasion to quit going for the holiday as his mother wouldn’t allow him to, once she’d smelled something fishy rooting around.
Failing to come to any conclusion. Shruti stared Jatin oddly and slid her hand to grab hold of the telephone over his study desk – a three feet high, easily accessible to her soft round hands.
‘what’re you doing . . . whom do you call . . . at least see the time, whom are you disturbing so late a night . . .please stop! Stop ! stop !’, Jatin continued but ignoring him, tipped on the keys, held the grip tight and over to her ears, gesturing him to shut up with her fingers.
Golu was still not asleep, he was too shuffling in the ideas of visiting exciting new places. The phone ring at this late a night first startled him, with a bleak eyes he gaped at the clock and it was a perfect twelve. At first he hesitated going closer to it, later picked it up in a scratch. His buttoned bright eyes dilated hearing Shruti’s voice, such late in the night. Getting further into the discussion, he too apprised her of his will, that was definite go there as it would come out as a perfect night adventure for sure, but Jatin kept on with his disillusionment – which was not quite welcomed by Shruti.
‘well, if you don’t want to go, let it be . . . you stay home and wrap yourself around your mother for sure . . . Golu and I are definitely going and that’s final if you’ve heard it . . .’.
Golu interrupted – ‘ and you think Shruti he’ll let us go and not tell our parents; is he so innocent?’ –
‘what to do now, if he’s ready to go along; I’ve no problem hanging out with him for sure‘, Shruti said strikingly and looked at Jatin through the corner of her eyes – who was now busy scraping his nails over the tile pieces on the floor. Sharp wind were beating onto the window panes and there was no shawl that could resist the shrill whistle of the icy wind piercing through the narrow slit along sides of the glass window pane.
‘ well, what you think or do is not my problem. I’ve a two – fold plan – first is to ask for a permission for some pleasant place and run over to there with the help of some elderly person . . .’, Golu interrupted sarcastically – ‘ and you think they’d let go fourteen year kids, all by themselves:’- -'for sure . . . ‘, Shruti added sharply.
Meanwhile, a soft mumble came from the side – ‘will that be safe. If you can think over it once!’, it was Jatin almost doubled in the terror of his mother.
‘and what’s the second plan . . . let me check that too for the security?’, Golu asked and chuckled simultaneously.
‘well, the second plan's definitely going to be to flee . . . to flee under the nose of our parents. One if us would have to steal some money , while others would probably do with the food and water. It’s a few kilometres only . . . itself we chase the road straight at the pace , we’d definitely make it before the daybreak’.
‘to flee . . .’, Jatin asked astonishingly.
‘what do you mean by a few kilometres - it’s a perfect eleven kilometres from here and by chance if we get a taxi at that night . . . will it be safe enough. . . and what if we don’t?’, a worried voice of Golu came form the behind.
‘we all have our cycles probably’, Shruti interrupted sharply and disconnected the call saying – ‘ I’ve said, means we’re going and that’s definite, otherwise our friendship ends here . . . ‘, sliding the phone across the table turned sternly to Jatin, who nodded onto a yes ! and over night they dreamt of the bone chilling terror, they might encounter on their way to the famous haunted palace in Mussoorie.
Next morning , the three friends met very secretly under the water tank, which was the common centre of their meeting. It was Shruti, who ordered them over their responsibilities and there stood a full proof plan with set in possibilities of getting failed. Failing was not a thing to worry about for she had analysed the plan in all aspects. Gulping a nice sip of water from a bottle – hung across her waist, by a string around the neck that supported , headed on her way back home.
While the rest were assured, she’s gone: Jatin asked – ‘ what do you think Golu, that makes her so sentimental and stiff towards about visiting a place so haunting and disgusting that any child would spare to go’ –
‘maybe, she’s one of the relatives of the ghosts living there . . .’, and the two broke into a chuckle. Jatin turned serious all of a sudden to add – ‘ well, what if I tell Shruti . . . you called her a ghost relative . . . ‘. Golu's face turned pale too and followed chasing Jatin on the road rolling steeply down on both sides, to catch hold of his collar . . .so that he could at least give a tight blow across his face.
‘wait! Stop there I say . . .Jatin’, he shouted all the way.
It was the gruesome night once again, Shruti could just put up some stubborn cries and make to Jatin's home – its that simple for her, but Golu had to be on a conference. Shruti, like before , held out the phone and waved out a bunch of banknotes that was way more than what Jatin has ever seen all his life ; as a middle class parents do not have a lot and if they do have, they don’t show it off to the child, but to Shruti, it was a mere expense . . . like a price of any videogame, or any laptop. His eyes widened – so much of money?’, he commented, ‘ why do you take away with so much . . . what’s the need’. Golu interrupted saying – ‘ ya! Well done, my mother say, when we’re on a trip or so and have a long way to go . . . .its a must to carry quite a good amount with us’.
‘well said Golu . . . I’m impressed ’, Shruti exclaimed simultaneously her eyes fell upon the clock striking a sharp twelve.
Wrapping themselves all from the top to the feet, they headed towards the entrance, where Jatin used to stand his bicycle. Very silently craving at the shrill creak of the iron gate or cluttering of paddles with the chain . . . tip – toed out of the society even without the bicycle and landed onto a main street all dry and dark, where under a street lamp Golu was seen waiting. This Punjabi figure has nothing to do with the cold. The same half shirt and quarter pants as he'd put on , in the meeting under the bridge early at ten o'clock in the morning.
‘are you mad . . . have you any idea , it’s just twelve and by two, how cold the night would be? ‘, Shruti came down heavily on him, his head shredded down and gradually he sheltered behind Jatin, who was now but a stuffed sack of woollen accessories.
‘one’s there with nothing on . . . like on a beach party. . .while the other seemingly would wade through the sharp icy winds in the north pole . . .oh my god ! I’m done with these boys’, she said and walked away angrily. The two looked at each other and followed like a criminal at her back and into the dark. The concrete road that ran all the way up to infinity, had some extreme sense of loneliness; and the pitch darkness along the edges were like an icing on the cake. They were mostly silent, still focussed on the pace they’d to keep up that instance so as to match the resolution of reaching there before the morning breaks. Jatin was pitching into thoughts and walked lazily when the two bright shoes seized before him and the crunching of sand gravels came no more. Left in the state of disillusionment, his head shooted up in a haste, but before he could question for what actually happened, Shruti grabbed a fistful of Jatin’s collar and wrapped the short soft fingers around Golu’s wrist to drag the two round under the bench aligned around the tea stall, all shuttered and covered with plastic wrappers to protect the stall from beating winds, which served as a nice shield for them to hide. Shortly, Shruti signed them to keep quite and pointed her fingers to a night guard, all drunk and wobbled with the torch around his neck, singing all sorts of nonsense.
‘ thank you Shruti . . .you saved us, otherwise we’d definitely been caught by these guards and all the rest would have been a history . . . ‘,Golu whispered with a sharp smile.
A sharp grunting voice came within – ‘who’s there . . .’, a bright white light came round and round, sometimes up and sometimes down, but never rested still. Jatin sat crouched like a soldier hiding from the enemies.
‘well friends, don’t make a noise or he’d catch us hiding here . . . shhh! ’, Golu interpreted and looking to Jatin angrily.
‘by saying so I think you’re the one who’s making the noise’, she whispered back, but before she could even complete – a crack of the plastic wrappers followed and all the cover seemed going up. A white torchlight fell over Shruti’s face. The guard gasped them annoyingly first and then thundered like he was addressing a thief . The locals of town mentioned in every nasty mention that it was the peak time, when most murders have happened at the lonely part of Mussoorie.
‘Are you kids . . .yes they are !’, he repeated running the eyes – ‘you know what’s the time now. . . It’s nearly One! And at this part of night, you kids are here ; tell me what are you doing . . .?’.
Shruti was turning impatient and spiced her fist. Jatin's mind was flowing like his prayers, while Golu had a swift smile under his nose – imagining all wicked about the drunk guard. She looked at Jatin and Jatin to Golu. With an intense and defeated eyes – Shruti looked back at Golu too, and without saying any word they just kept looking at each other , not careful about the guard standing right ahead: throwing warm breath of champagne and lust together.
‘and give me your parents phone number I’ll call them up. Who are you?’, he uttered in a softer tone this time. Shruti’s mind was now engaged cooking up great stories as fast as it could as his questions followed over and over again. With all her mind she finally turned up to answer, but even before she could start, the guard went round and round on his heels and winced holding his head – which was now aching like anything, stumbled flat over the bench . . . which rose up at the edge and turned him over to the ground.
‘has he blacked out . . .?’, Jatin ejaculated;
‘well, I hope so . . .’, Shruti whispered and rushed for life out of the place as fast as she could. Despite of them failing to keep apace, they’d definitely made a nice run and came to an intense daunting edge, where they were to take a sharp turn and it was where from, the real forest began. As Golu's feet fell towards the forest , something went right before his eyes . . . an unrealised truth of the forest, that had been under cover for a long time. The same edge, the same banyan tree, under which his father was discover dead , one morning; in an extreme deplorable condition – with his hands torn apart and the face half eaten by the pack of wolves, but his mother was quite sure of the planned murder due to his life insurance issues; with the company, he worked with.
He was not three then.
Their steps gradually disintegrated, as they had to wade through the thorny and dense bushy shrubs. Golu’s face was frail and white now. He uttered all sorts of prayers, as even over the stubbornness of Shruti, were Golu’s sense of horror. Long and sharp trees rose on both sides. Winds were frequent and showed up good signs of storm, for leaves fluttered under their feet and a few rubbed against each other, causing a bone chilling shrill cry, like that of a calf being slaughtered. Being so closely related to the forest, Golu once opened his mouth to share the story of a slaughterhouse close to the famous Mussoorie palace, which was once demolished for almost ripping Mussoorie of calves that year, but nodded left and right – ‘ it’s not the right time and place to share this story . . .’, he whispered to himself.
They walked all the way to the next big stop, to the first rippling sound of a brook, was what caught their attention.
Jatin once proposed excitedly – ‘ how about going close to the brook and have a break?’.
‘No!’, Golu and Shruti shouted almost together.
‘there are high chances of wild animals coming to drink water . . . and that would be the worst nightmare of catching head-on up with a tiger or a wolf, as we know there’s an abundance of them here!’.
‘then where do we go now?’, Jatin asked in a deep disgusted tone, his voice reflecting the jade of halving walked a long way. He threw his backpack down on the dry leaves and sat there posing like a cheated Greek heroine. Shruti chuckled at him and agreed him to sit for a sneak break. She looked around but could hardly see a soothing place to sit. Golu leaped to the right and in the radium flash of his wristwatch, closely analysed the high platform kind of thing around the long twisted trunk of a tree. Shortly after a minute of their sitting, Golu felt a tickle down his waist . . .and something long and slender but round thing, getting into the hole of his pants. There were no fingers . . . but a small gluttonous fork like extension . . . ‘ is that a hand?’, he hesitated. But soon as he saw a wicked smile over his companions face, slapped Jatin twice; but having no subtle words of regret . . .turned onto the fishy essence of the thing.
As he dabbled his hands down the spine, caught hold of a fat round forest cobra. It was quite usual here, but that they would meet them so surprisingly was not known. He screamed jumped and shooed the cobra away, but it twisted more and more tightly around his legs. Now it had slipped down his thigh. Shruti ceased him from making any swift movements. His breath was falling short and the blood was running cold. The immense terror could be clearly read on his face.
In the radium greet light of his watch, he lighted almost a portion of his face . . . his teeth grunted and his hands shivered. It was the two minutes of intense wrapping that the slimy creature slipped down his legs. They made room for it to pass, and it finally slid under the stack of dried leaves. There was silence and terror amongst Golu and Jatin’s eyes, but Shruti was still calm and composed. She looked around with the gleaming young eyes to catch hold of all what she saw . . the first ever visit to the forest with her friends.
She widened her arms and seeped a deep breath in.
‘I think we’re quite closer to the place’, Shruti exclaimed and walked ahead absentmindedly. The two followed at her back, urging every now and then from the back to have a clear look at the map she’d bought with her.
‘its in there’, she said and tapped the forehead, ever since she felt like to answer. They walked left and right, all over the place, but one thing that never left them was the brook, and as far as Shruti remembered they’d to keep away from the brook as it was on the far right edge of the forest; and the best indication was that the sound of the brook fainted there. ‘Are we even going straight . . . or wandering about in the circle?’, Golu asked. Shruti’s eyebrows shot up and she made weird faces. Jatin gestured with his eyes to Shruti, to her back where stood the same stunted tree they’ve sat around to have their tiffin – half an hour back.
Shruti’s mind blanked all of a sudden, but being silent for a while revived into an even distressful idea. Golu called it absurd while Jatin never made anything out. Shruti uttered looking up to the dense canopy of the forest and weird branches.
‘well! We’d have to go closer to the brook and follow its straight path then shoot right at the nose length to reach there’, she smiled and winced simultaneously; there was a nice precision in her idea for sure. Nodding and making wines they followed at her to the brook, where the white moonlight has shone it bright and its reflection glanced across the loose edge of the brink.
You could nearly see your face in the rippling clean forest river. A mere fantasy like Shruti has never dreamed of. She never talked but gazed at the rippling brook that stretched at her feet as she followed them to somewhere for a minute. Not so soon that a new set of problem was waiting for them. At a 20 feet distance glanced two bright green eyes, like that of a big cat.
They stopped and walked back in rhythm . . . but there Golu’s feet dropped over a bunch of dried leaves that crunched sharply. Immediately as it sensed their intention to flee, the green lights shook in the air, held like socketed, faster and faster . . . very soon its foot crunches came louder and enormously clear.
It came beating down their heart, every step it made towards the three. Creepy sounds of dripping saliva came very clear as the lights moved closer . . .they backed off and held each others hands.
Shruti hesitated, then began thinking something – ‘ worry not they are just wolves I guess . . .!’,Golu ejaculated. Shruti turned at him in a flash with a worn out face – ‘what . . .a wolf! . . .’,
‘yes ! a wolf . . .’, Golu answered.
‘ok! I’ve an idea', Shruti exclaimed and just as she said, the two wearied faced turned at her with pleading eyes.
‘what’s that . . .?’, one of them remarked –
‘well! If that’s a wolf, Golu, switch on the watch light I think it could drive it away. Ya! It would think we’re some big cats for something and pose a threat . . .’, Shruti added;‘amazing ! you are brilliant Shruti . . .’, Jatin interrupted and ticked at his shoulder to do so.They did so, striking the three pair of eyes at success, but gradually the pair of lights paused a few feet distance, and eventually turned round to the other side.A consequent splatter of water was heard and those pair of lights finally ended somewhere.