The Story of a Ghost...(''Bhooter Galpo'" in Bengali)

It was 1971. Winter. Sometime in November if I remember correctly.

I was an aspiring stage artist, doing small roles in one of Bengal's most prestigious Drama Associations, 'Bhabikaal'. I was only 22. I had grown up watching the people I acted with now. I would stay back till 3am for the rehearsals; sleep between 4 and 8; and reach the post office by 9, where I worked as a clerk.

That night, I stayed back till 4. I was playing the Zameendaar's son in the play 'Krishak', which is a Bengali word for 'farmer'. The Zammendaar, Bannerjee Da was one of the most renowned stage actors. I had this great opportunity to learn a lot, acting alongside him. The next day, a crowd of over five hundred people would watch the play at India Club.

There was no one else to accompany me. Also, my younger brother had taken my cycle away. So, I had to walk those two miles to home.There wasn't a ray of light.

As I walked on, all the famous stories about ghosts in Calcutta played in my mind. I knew that something was coming up. A while later, I saw a light. It was moving towards me. I got scared. Chanting 'Jai Ram' was all that I could do.I didn't move. After a minute, I got to know that it was someone moving in a cycle, holding a mashaal to see the way. 'What a relief !'

Stories also had it that the biggest Banana tree that came on the way, belonged to Lord Ganesha; and that there lives after death, a headless king, who urinates before eating people up. Ten minutes down the line, the Banana tree was seen. My feet had stopped moving. It was much bigger than the usual banana trees. I looked around for the headless king, with 'Jai Ram' being recited without a break.

In that darkness, at 4:30, I stepped next to the tree,with my umbrella in my hand, to save me from the light drizzle.I felt good that I was brave. Just then, loads of water fell ahead of my feet. I knew now, that I was the food tonight. I ran.

As I ran, I changed the prayer to ' Jai Ganesh' knowing fully well that Lord Ganesha, being the owner of the tree, was the only god who could save me ! I ran on, for my life. I ran faster than ever, but it seemed to take longer than ever.

Finally, I reached home.I gasped for breath, but couldn't afford to get in.My Maternal Uncle,who had brought me up since my father passed away in 1959, would drag me out of the career in theatre if he came to know that I was frightened. I cooled myself down at the door.Knocked. My mother opened it.She asked me what was wrong.

 "I need a sleep Maa", I said and rushed to the bed.

Next morning, I wanted to go back to the tree. I had to prove to myself that there are no ghosts out there. I knew that if I live with this fear, I probably wouldn't be able to rehearse late, which would bring my theatre career to an end.

I went there.It was daylight and me, two brave people. I waited near the tree for sometime. And then...the same thing happened. Water, almost as much a couple of mugs would hold, fell at my feet. I got the physics. I caught the ghost. It was nature.

Rain water accumulated on top of the leaf; and when the water would increase upto a certain point, the leaf couldn't hold it any more, and it ran down to the road. Simple law of gravity.I looked up. Thanked my father. Came back.

Later that year, I got the first lead role in theatre. I went on to do a lot of such roles, and won the 'Best Actor' Award several times. I married a very sweet, young lady of 22, when I was 31.

At 33, I quit theatre. I concentrated on becoming a good husband now. A year later, I was promoted as an Inspector, and was posted in Darbhanga in Bihar. At 36,in 1985, I was the happiest person. My son, my only child, Ananyabrata was born. Now, I had to become a good father. I hope I did become one. Ananyabrata would tell you better.

(The protagonist is Late Shri Samir Chakravorty, my father.He retired as the Assistant Director of Postal Services in 2008.He left us on the 14th of March 2010 due to Kidney failure.

The names of certain people and places are changed, but whatever I wrote here are pieces of the story that my father told me when I was young. I had asked him to tell me a story of a ghost. He, in his unique way, narrated this story and made me understand that there is no such thing as 'ghost'....Amazing !

I never had the chance to watch him act. The ones who did, say that they never watched anyone act better.

P.S. In the picture you see my parents, way back in 1980.)