Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury
Brief Introduction
- Birth – January 18, 1955
- Education – MBBS (IMS/BHU)
- Publications – 4 books (2 in Hindi, 1 each in English and Bengali) and two are yet to come.
- Translations – Books and articles are translated in English, Odiya, Marathi and Gujarati.
- Awards – CBT awarded stories and novel, “Kamaleshwar Smriti Katha Award (2013, 2017 and 2019)” by Kathabimb.
- Honour – “Hindi Sevi Samman” by Mahatma Gandhi Antarrashtriya Hindi Vishwa Vidyalaya, Wardha (December 2016).
☆ A GHOST STORY – Part -1 ☆ Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury ☆
‘Tell me first, do you believe in ghosts?’ asked mamaji.
We two brothers looked at him with startled eyes. Such was the atmosphere in the room and outside. Nervously I stuttered, ‘M – mama, have you ever seen a ghost?’
Immediately a philosopher’s mask hung from his face, mama looked out of the window. As if lost in a supernatural question!
Outside it was drizzling since evening. Twice or thrice power supply of our house was gone.
‘Yes.’ just a word of affirmation, after a long silence. Mama was an expert narrator. He knew how to create an air of suspense. How to pump an air of interest in the heart of the listener. So, again he stopped.
A yellow white dagger appeared in heaven and it split the dark bosom of the night sky into two. Followed by an outcry of roar in the sky. A thunder.
We two were brimming with fear and eagerness. Naturally for a ghost story to be effective this fear factor is of utmost importance. A gulabjamun must be sweet and tasty, a golgappa or panipuri must be sweet and sour, and so should a ghost story be full of anxiety and the element of suspense and horror.
‘Yes, I had once seen it. The ghost of a murdered man! To believe it or not, is up to you.’ his words came out at last.
We got worried, ‘Oh, would he stop telling us the story?’ I said, ‘Oh mama, why do you say so? We certainly believe you. B… but the murdered man became alive or what? Started moving?’
‘Do you little boys know, there is word – Resurrection? That is when the life comes back to his dead body. Probably by the same mechanism of nature that murdered man was – oh, should I say – raised from the dead again?’
‘Bhaiya!’ Chotku, my younger brother, clutched my hand tightly.
And I, Chotku’s elder brother, who he depended so much on, started sweating. I was in a dilemma. Should we let mamaji continue with this horror film? Or was it better to pull the curtain down?
But curiosity never sits idle. It’s always restless to run and relish. Naturally we asked in unison at last, ‘Oh mama, come on. Enough of this beating about the bushes. Now begin the main story please.’
‘Didi!’ mama called out to ma, who was busy in the kitchen, preparing special dishes for her brother, that is our mama, ‘Send a cup of tea, please. And if you wish you can send a plate of pakoras too. I don’t mind.’
We two glanced at each other’s eyes.
‘Now listen patiently and don’t disturb when I’m in full flow of the narration.’ mama began.
Pointing towards me he said, ‘I was just as young as you, Rana. There was one Brajlal in our friends’ circle. He lived with his parents in our town but his dada dadi were in their village, Mithunpura. One day, just before Holi, he told me, ‘My father wants me to go to the village and spend the festival days with my dada dadi. But I’m not in a mood to go. Tell me what charm will be there during Holi?’
‘At first, I didn’t say anything. See, in those days it was not a fashion to go for a holiday trip to Shimla or Kerala. I, myself, had visited my maternal uncle’s home only a couple of times. Either during Durga puja holidays or in summer vacation. So, I thought why he was not visiting his grandpa and gran. At least the old man and woman would be glad.
‘After a brief silence he suddenly asked me, ‘Well, my dear friend, would you come along?’
‘I?’ I was totally taken a back at the suddenness of the proposal.
‘‘Yes, why not? Babuji is quite insisting. I feel it’ll be impossible to escape. It’s very hard to ignore what he dictates. But if you accompany me, it’ll be a nice journey and a beautiful stay over there.’ Then he tried to tempt me, ‘And for your kind information my dadi is an excellent cook. If you ever taste the gujhiya made by her only once in your life, you can never forget it. Your mouth will be wet the moment you’ll think of it.’
‘But Rana and Chotku, as you’re aware, though I’m not a glutton, I’m very much fond of tasty things. Naturally I was in a dilemma. Finally, I said, ‘I must ask my mother. And I’ve to take my father’s permission too.’
“Oh, don’t worry yaar.’ he thumped on my back and declared, ‘I’ll come with you to ask for permission. I hope I can convince uncle.’
‘When father asked him how far the place was. He answered by bus it was a three-hour ride. He ended every sentence with a sweet ‘please’ while talking to your nana. Well, somehow father was moved and said he would let me go with him.
‘That day father gave me twenty-five rupees for bus fare and other expenses. Don’t laugh. Those days that was a big pocket money. Babuji said to me, ‘You’ll be staying in an unknown family. Should not mess around and should behave properly.’ Ma packed my things and -’
I was getting quite restless, so I protested, ‘Mama, you promised to tell a ghost story and not a travelogue. What’s this? Where is the ghost?’
‘Then let me stop here.’ mama was upset, ‘You fool, what do you know about the art of storytelling? Do you think you’re more knowledgeable than Valmiki or Vedvyasa? What happened in Ramayana? Ravana or his sister Surpanakha didn’t come to play a part unless Ram, Sita and Lakshmana were exiled to Chitrakoot. And in Mahabharata? Only when Pandavas were banished, Bhim could meet Hidimba in the forest. What do you think of a ghost? A cheap incarnation? After living a long and eventful life, they come to this existence. Understand?’
He stopped and shouted again, ‘Didi, where is my tea? Have the tea leaves yet started from Assam?’
Now we two brothers were scared more of mama than the ghost.
‘Okay, now let me finish. Brajlal and I rode on the bus. It was spring season and a gentle breeze was wafting all around. But gradually on the way the bus became so jam packed with the commuters that it became difficult for us to breathe even. And there was a total chaos. Someone talking politics, some child crying at the pitch of his voice, some lady talking loudly about her mother-in-law and sister-in-law and so on.
‘Ma had given me some coconut laddus for two of us as refreshments. We two were sitting, sandwiched between the back of the seat and the standing passengers falling on us off and on. Yet somehow, I managed to open my bag and took out the laddus.
‘Brajlal, eyeing all my efforts quite attentively, asked, ‘What treasure you’re getting your hands on?’
‘The moment he saw the laddus he exclaimed, ‘O my goodness! A real treasure they are!’
‘In less than a second eight laddus were gone. Four into his hands and four on my lap.
‘But the cruel fate had its own game plan. The moment I went for a bite, a child from the front row, sitting in his mother’s lap, looked back and shrieked his demand, ‘Mamma, those laddus! I want them.’
‘I was thunder struck. Whole of the commuters were looking at me. One gentleman even showed his benevolence, ‘See young man, he is but a child. Just like your younger brother. Don’t forget how much Ram loved Lakshman. So, shouldn’t you share with him?’
‘Quite unwillingly I gave one to that little devil. Immediately it was gone through his mouth to his belly. And he again let out a scream with his fingers directed towards me, ‘Mamma, those laddus. I want more!’
Contd…. 2
☆☆☆☆☆
© Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury
Contact : Flat no. 301. Fourth Floor. Tower no.1. Mangalam Aananda, Phase 3A. Hajyawala Colony. Rampura Road. Sanganer. Jaipur 302029. Rajasthan. Mob: 9455168359.
Email: [email protected]
≈ Editor – Shri Hemant Bawankar/Editor (English) – Captain Pravin Raghuvanshi, NM ≈
