Midnight giggles

Growing up I always had a hunch that my house was haunted by the spirit of a child. Despite several warnings, my friend Anu brought her twins to stay with me over the weekend. She says she's too big of an atheist for all these superstitions to shake her belief. But the fact is I live in a hilltown and her visit is nothing less than a way of cutting expenses on hotels or inns. When one of her twins fell sick, I suggested she moved out immediately but her austerity is beyond my understanding and above the safety of her own children. Within two days the other one fell sick too. The condition of the toddlers made it significantly harder for her to return at this point. I had told her about the one time several years ago when my badminton rackets went missing and reappeared in the shed a few days later, in shards. I had also told her about the colourful hand impressions on our new almirah for which my brother and I were held accountable and punished. I had gone to extreme lengths explaining each and every detail of our missing shoes, scissors, cards, board games and what not! Yet she keeps on insisting that those were nothing but mere figments of my young mind's imagination. Sometimes I'd like to think that she's right given that I no longer hear the swings creaking or the doorbell ringing at atypical hours. I was under the impression that may be my unearthly housemate has grown up too to play old tricks. But I was wrong. I kept a secret from her. Only a few days before Anu's visit, under the influence of a mystic, I got involved in an occult and carried out a bizzare ritual. I put a huge cauldron of water in my window apron and waited all night for moonlight to hit the surface of the liquid. It did and to my surprise there were ripples forming without any disturbance. I peeped in to see what's going on only to be greeted with some kind of reflection brewing. Not one, but two. Shadows of two children, giggling through the pot. It's when I realised why things always disappeared in pairs. I think they're still up for something and I must warn Anu.

- Nirmali Medhi

Image courtesy - One of my classrooms