The Floating Room

Now that Kolkata’s famous monsoons have set in, the view outside the window has undergone some significant changes. No traces remain of the lively neighborhood made bright by the white, blazing streets of Mangalam Park. Instead there lay a dim world dripping with moisture, which might be considered anything between romantic and dull, depending on your mood.

Here, I should give some credit to the peculiar position of my window. The entire scene outside is bisected by the compound wall into two equal halves- a typical Behala slum on the left, and Mangalam Park on the right. In fact, the wall would’ve run right through us, had it not swerved left at the last moment, to accommodate our building into the compound premises. Any viewer from here would get a god-like perception, being able to supervise two worlds that can’t see or interact with each other, thanks to the nine feet high divider (and other reasons).

The slum lanes, though obsolete, are populated at all times. On rainy days, several lazy hours go by observing the slum people wading up and down through knee-deep water, mostly cursing each other. The well-drained streets of the complex, however, usually remain vacant, except for few cars and occasional raincoat/umbrella clad pedestrians, for the rains are usually avoided.

Sometimes on seeing people walk by under the protection of an umbrella, I can’t help but wonder how fun it would be to snipe them through the mock shield. Oh well.

Several times in this year, the rain has been heavy enough to limit one’s eyesight within a small radius. Gazing out into endless torrential rain gives nothing short of a euphoric feeling. Everything’s smudged with the downpour and its resultant mist which hovers over every possible obstacle. The spray-layered earth seems distant and faded, and almost identical to the overcast sky. As the rain grows heavier still, the panes need to be shut to restrict the water. The surroundings disappear, and nothing remains in the endless watery universe of diffused light. Except you and your floating room.

Just a thought

Foreword:

To start with, let me tell you, this is just an expression of some wild ideas I had yesterday.

Don’t tell me stuff I already know, like “it’s crazy” or “it’s dumb”. My logic goes like this- We always talk about ghosts as supernatural beings formed after our death. But it defies me what reasons these entities might have to harm us.

Why can’t there be other invisible, supernatural species altogether, which has no connection to humans at all? Maybe there are, and maybe ‘our’ ghosts protect us from them in some und

efined way. And maybe we keep saying we’re scared of our protectors.

Few days ago, on Halloween, we were on the C-1 terrace of our complex with night vision cameras and all, trying to make a ghost movie. We found an empty bed and few bundles under the rooftop tank. Somehow, I decided to write this cracked story on the same setting.

*************
“Eew! Don’t tell me we’ll sleep here!” Katie said, making a horrible face at my precious makeshift bedroom. Well, it didn’t actually qualify for a bedroom. Just a folding bed tucked under the water tank of a terrace, with clothes bundled together to serve as pillows

“Yup, this is it.” I sighed.

We had gathered after almost a year. With the ever increasing study-load, we didn’t get leaves at all. So we decided to make the most out of the Halloween holiday. Obviously, I wouldn't have been allowed to let her stay over at my place due to strict parents, and her place was full with relatives as usual. We had no choice but to come here, which had been my childhood hideout.

“This place is scary!” She said, looking shocked.

“Uff, I’m there with you toh.”

“Aren’t YOU scared?”

“I didn’t have the liberty to be scared away from a creepy place and have you at the same time. So I picked the latter.” I smiled.

At this, she burst out laughing and gave me a quick kiss.
“You’re so irresistible at times” She said, putting on a sexy pout. We entered the dark place, stooping uncomfortably to save our heads from the low ceiling. But once we got into bed and started chatting, we were quite easy. Katie had this amazing ability of keeping any conversation lively and interesting, irrespective of the topic. We talked for hours. Then, just when she was about to start all the good stuff, the entire place lit up suddenly.

“What the….!” Katie jumped up, and ended up banging her head against the ceiling. It was a group of teens with flashlights and handycams!

“Don’t you think it’s strange that there’s a bed here?” one of them asked the other.
“Yeah” the other replied.

They kept swinging the flashlights from side to side, exploring the place. I saw Katie’s bewildered expression turn into that cute devilish grin, which I was so crazy about.

“Well, well, well! You never said living humans wander willingly right into your hideout!” I could see her canines glowing in the light, and her eyes lighting up in excitement.

“This is the first time I’m seeing them here. Anyway, you know we can’t eat them, honey” I said gravely.

“Why not?!” she looked at me incredulously, as if I had gone mad.

“Don’t you even read the newspapers? There’s so much hype over this particular article.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You must’ve heard that we’re slowly losing our grip on the war against ghosts. A group of scientists working on humans proved yesterday that new ghosts aren’t born from darkness, as was previously believed, but when humans are killed. The government says we can’t afford to deal with more of those horrible creatures. So killing humans for sport or consumption has been permanently banned.”

“You must be shitting me!” she looked on in disbelief.

“No dear. We had been actually ‘creating’ the enemy all along.”
“There’s nothing interesting here guys. Let’s check the other side of the terrace” one teen from the group concluded. With this they left, leaving us in darkness.

Very funny, huh?

This Nabami, a large group had gathered, and we were having discussions about supernatural stuff. Things were getting quite creepy. The elder guys were telling real life stories about few strange things that they’ve witnessed. We heard about a worker, who fell through a lift shaft while Mangalam Park was being built, and got barbequed on a rod below. We heard the story of strange noises on A2’s terrace at night. We heard about celebrity ghosts caught on tape. And many more.

Abesh da came up with an incident which really gave me chills, for the first time in the entire conversation. Believing it is up to the reader. I’ll narrate his words--

When I was in fourth year of Medical College, a strange happening was published in the college’s weekly editorial. It was about ragging, which was pretty common in our hostel. The seniors would make the girls do embarrassing stuff like erotic dancing, smoking etc. One girl came, who was kind of a daredevil. She openly refused to do as the senior guys said. Because she was a girl, the seniors could not beat her up, as they would’ve done in case of a boy. So, they planned something else.

Unlike the boys, the girls had single rooms for themselves. The seniors obtained a severed hand from the lab and kept it under her bed sheet. When she entered her room at night, the guys bolted her from outside and switched off the main power supply of the hostel. After few minutes, she started banging the door desperately from inside at first. She must’ve discovered the hand. The guys went off laughing and returned in about fifteen minutes. The banging had stopped. Finally, they unbolted the door and asked her to come out. But there was no reply.

They got scared.

She might’ve got a heart attack or something. They scanned the dark room with torches. But it was empty. The bed sheets were on the ground and the room was in a mess with books thrown all over the floor. She must’ve jumped from the window. They were discussing whether to look down, when someone’s torch fell on the almirah.

She was crouching there, on top of the almirah, chewing the hand.

That's what frightful shocks can do to you. She had to be taken to a mental hospital.

Moral of the story: All tricks are not funny.

Pujas at Mangalam Park

Pujas at Mangalam Park are always special. Partly because I get to see my complex mates only during festivals. Durga Puja provides the best five days of the year. Yes, I do have to face ridicules from school mates and relatives for not going pandal hopping or on trips. But these ridicules bring a strange pleasure, the kind of pleasure you get while being mocked for listening to The Beatles, while others are praised for loving Miley.

This year was the best and the last. Our group was not as lively without Vishu, but we enjoyed nevertheless. And I can feel people around me maturing. The change is just too intense to be ignored, especially in people whom you meet after a gap of 365 days. Well, I have enough reasons to miss MP after I leave, and I’m glad about it. =)