Highway No. 79 Dudu village

National highway number-79. Night 0800pm. ..pitch dark…winters of November 1991. Double lane road with very scanty traffic. Road side tea stalls too were very few in this Stretch. No honking of horns, not a single sound of engines. Quiet was so engrossing that the sound of three cars coming in a convoy was merely a humming.

Three Ambassador cars in a row, one behind the other, in first car were sting the officials of state minister for tourism, second car had minister himself, DIG and District Magistrate with the driver. The third car had DM’s family with their driver. They passed a mile stone that read 80kms. The men in the second car were so involved in talking that they did not notice the passing of the mile stone the second time, the same mile stone which read 80kms.

After 1 hour of crossing the 80kms. mile stone for the first time, the car with DM’s family stopped as they could not see the other two cars. It was pitch dark on the road without the pole lights in those times. The wife of DM got the gun man to wireless the message to the gunman in the minister’s car ro know their whereabouts. The gunman from the other car asked them to wait where they were till they come.

After another 15 minutes the other cars appeared. DM got down of minister’s car and sat with his family and waved good bye to others. Though they asked him to stay with them but he didn’t listen and took their leave. By half past 1 they reached their home.

Next day when they called the DIG to ask did they reach safely, the story he told was spooky. The moment DM changed the car and drove off, the horrifying incident started. After  dropping him when they started, they crossed the milestone for the third time and this was noticed by the driver and he told this to others. First none believed him then 15 minutes later when the same mile stone again came everyone was dumbstruck. The driver then turned the car and started again but within 5 minutes the car skid and faced towards the way they were coming from. The drivers gain turned the cars but again the same thing happened.

It was late in the night when they finally managed to pass the stretch where this all was happening. Thus got late to reach their respective homes.

Later it was known that it was the same patch where many such weird incidents occur and is said to be haunted. It’s hardly 15 minute zone but is very accident prone area. It’s a curve on the road. Many other incidents came into light then. One doctor was returning to his home from the city where he was posted. It was evening 0500pm when he came to the same stretch of NH-79, when he saw a brick wall in middle of the road and tried to avoid the collision but his bike skid and fell down. With the bike he was drawn for few mts. He got bad bruises on hands, fractured leg. In some incidents the drivers have felt the presence of some Un visible person sitting right aside them and urging them to crash the vehicle. Some have reported of seeing a lady with a child asking for lift and then getting vanished into the thin air. One such incident mentions a lady covered with blood holding a little child asked for lift and sat in the back seat of the car and then guided them out of the village too but when the three friends who were in the car looked for the lady, saw she vanished into thin air. The friends tried to forget the incident as a nightmare but that haunts them till date. Those 15 minutes of horror are unforgettable for anyone who has faced this.

The story behind all this goes like this….time was when child marriages prevailed in Rajasthan. In the village named Dudu, near Ajmer, in a family a infant baby girl of 5 days was to be married off to a toddler of 3 years. But the mother of the girl was against this marriage. So to save her child she ran away from home taking the baby with her. On the road she met with an accident and both mother and child died instantly. It is said all this haunting and accidents on this road started since then.

The haunting still continues and may be first of its kind where a road stretch is haunted.


Sana Iqbal …a biker who rode against depression and suicide!

Here I go again… I thought I would not touch upon the topic of anxiety or depression let alone the suicide, but something happened that took me to that forbidden road again. No it’s not I who is being discussed here but a person whom I knew for being brave and a fighter, who once was a sufferer like me and many of us I think…at a point of time she was fully caught up in that dark dungeon that she wanted to commit suicide and for that matter she rode on her bike on roads expecting to meet an accident which would finish her all miseries, (for who don’t know her, she was a celebrity bike rider from hyderabad), Sana Iqbal realised her love for riding bikes and that there is so much more to life.

Sana Iqbal, photo courtesy: indiatoms.com

Continue reading “Sana Iqbal …a biker who rode against depression and suicide!”

Inspired by a Theme on TPIB

I am a die hard fan of horror and spooky stories. But what if they are for real…means not mere stories but something people believe in…though I won’t believe in them nor would ask anyone to do so but for satisfying my thirst of mystery, fear and all at once…I would love to read them and feel the hair rising and tickling at the back of neck experience.

If they are folklore or legends from the past it is more thrilling, as I love history. It gives a dash of romance with the thrill, sometimes. This week at TPIB we have theme of writing about a legend…and I got the chance to indulge in my favourite genre. That gave me a new topic to write about on my blog, apart from my depressed mind’s ramblings, i.e. about horror or haunted legends wrapped in mysteries.

There are so many of them around us, so I thought to first start with my homeland, then will slowly move towards others. Hope it will entertain you as much as it’s thrilling me to write.


A dutiful ghost of Brijrajbhawan, Kota.

Today I choose a city where I have spent 2 years of my childhood, the city of River Chambal, Kota Doria sarees, Masala Limca, Palaces and gardens, KOTA city from Hadoti region of Rajasthan.

The one I choose to narrate today is about a haunted palace or shall I say a haunted hotel? Well I will call it a heritage hotel run by the royal family of Kota!

The story takes place in the colonial India. Yes the so called ghost in this lore is a British Major.

The palace where our story begins is called “Brijrajbhawan” a residential palace of former royal family of Kota, having a resident ghost of Major Charles Burton, who was then British resident to Kota and was killed while serving by the sepoys of 1857 freedom war.

Image courtesy : google

Our story begins when Major Charles Burton of 40th Bengal Native Infantry  was posted to Kota as Resident and Brijrajbhawan Palace was British Residency and now home to Major and his family for 13 years.  In May 1857, at the outbreak of the mutiny, Major Burton was summoned by the British General commanding the nearby Neemuch cantonment for the protection of Neemuch, a town in Madhya Pradesh. Burton was accompanied to Neemuch by his family. On the request of Kota ‘s king Major along with his two sons returned to Kota on December 13, 1857. After two days Major Burton saw a large party approaching the Residency. He assumed that these troops of the Maharaja had come to pay a friendly visit. But soon the mutinied  soldiers surrounded and entered the palace. All the servents of the Residency abandoned the Residency,leaving The Burtons alone with few arms that they were able to snatch. They ran to the upper storey and took refuge in a small room and waited there for the help to arrive while the loot was going on in the lower portion. But after 5 hours of firing The Burtons surrendered and kneeling down said their prayers. In March 1858, Kota was again annexed by British government and the bodies of the Burtons were disinterred and buried in the Kota cemetery with full military honours.

Image courtesy:google

After independence the palace became private property of the royal family of Kota, to which they later converted into a heritage hotel after renovating. Today, it is not only a heritage hotel but also a haunted destination in India where the ghost of Major Burton prevails. It is said that Charles Burton’s ghost still haunts the old building and susceptible guests have complained of distinctly “discomforting and oppressive feelings”. Though the staff is reluctant to the complaints yet acknowledges an English voice being heard often by the drowsy watchmen that says, “Don’t sleep, no smoking” followed by a sharp slap if they are not performing their duty properly. Seems that the ghost of Burton still patrols the mansion!

Image courtesy : google
Image courtesy : google

Need of the hour… to find myself.

I need to find me. On my way to myself. I haven’t find me yet. My demons may be quiet for a while now but they do exist and wait for the reason to wake, and take a deep breath which they hold on for so long and then they slowly crawl back to my ears, wrap my mind around and falls the darkness. I just know one thing for sure even in this darkest hour of mine that I am afraid of happyness because whenever I am happy something worst happens. But still I am strong enough to fight against all the bad that has happened to me. I am working on myself for myself by myself. Though the depression stays their in the head like a wound that never heals and I have to be careful not to touch upon the points that trigger it and everything goes fuushh..! Though it keeps nagging in there all the time. I am bit tired of explaining to others about it because they make their on point of views according to their perceptions.

I am tired of even myself for trying to hold on when I should have given up, of being strong, of hiding my tears and keep smiling even when it was killing me inside. It is ruining me to answer all, about me being ok or fine when I just want to cry my heart out, shout out about my broken heart and damaged trust. I want to tell, I want to share so may be I might find a way out of this dark place I am prisoner of ,from so many years and lately chains tied to my feet and thrown into the dangerous water to drown with the weight of my own guilt and suffering. The malicious mind is playing bad tricks but heart, it wants to heal, wants to rejoice and experience happiness once again.

I have started questioning myself, searching my inner depths, connecting to my higher self, trying to open my mind’s eye above the physical plane. Asking the universe to heal me, to give me peace, establish connection. On the other hand I am taking my writing skills to another level, I am writing and writing and losing myself in it. Something’s to opening up somewhere deep down. Some sad feelings are again turning and twisting but I am writing them down, basically I am trying to acknowledge my pain so that I can forgive them completely simultaneously I am nervous and afraid of the dark feeling again, that pain and agony, I don’t want to go through it again. I have learned very hard how to suppress and bury my pain and pricking thorns into the corner of my heart where I can ignore them without knowing their presence, but I am also enjoying my writing, it also has gone to upper level in this process of healing. I am in dilemma, what’s happening, what to do, where am I heading, definitely I am not going to stop but afterwards what? What will be my situation. But for now I know of sure that while I am writing for that brief period I am disconnected with everything else, I feel nothing except my content of writing. The numbness, hollowness and the emptyness for a while takes a back seat. For that moment I become alive completely engrossed in it. After putting the pen down kind of withdrawal symptom is experienced. For a while I feel dejected. Every time I want to return back to my writing or more to reading if not writing.

The emotional turmoil I am going through is very dangerous either I will be ruined completely or I will learn to cope and live with my depression. I don’t know where I am going but I am on my way to find myself and that’s for sure.


My story is ocean in a drop, starts 10 years back.

I am married in totally different tradition and culture.

Though it is a love come arranged marriage yet I felt very alienated in the beginning.

I am born in Northern state of U.P. brought up in western state of Rajasthan and married in southern state of Telangana.

So one can easily understand my confusion, but as time passed and I started to understand the language, it all bloomed like a flower in front of me, the southern culture.

Now I can really say that my marriage is a blessing in disguise for it in true sense helped me to experience the unity in diversity.

Now I can say I am truly an Indian, oh yes I forgot to tell my eastern state connection, I have my maternal aunt from W.B. and Bhabi from Bihar. So in this way all the cultures and traditions of India are now familiar to me. And this marriage has given me a chance to explore the southern part of India deeply.

I am blessed to know my country little better from my some family members and lot of friends. I can now truly, proudly say that I am an Indian. This also has fed my literary hunger and enriched my experiences, vocabulary, and depth to my writings.

Hope you like it, my journey across India.

‘This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’ 


Komorebi… sunlight filtering through leaves!

In a lush green garden under the shade of a huge tree sit down and feel the warmth of the beautiful sunny day. Let the sunlight fall on your face and kiss you gently. Imagine this sunshine is coming through the net Of branches and leaves. You will feel the golden glowing warmth on the parts where the light is falling and the rest will be quiet. If the light us falling on your eyes imagine your eyeballs changing color from dark brown to almond honey brown and with this feeling let the liquid warmth fill your soul and feel the cool breeze ruffling your hair lightly and magnificent scents of various flowers combined into one, fill your nostrils, take a deep breath and close your eyes, count till and exhale and expect the magic of the hour to begin to take over your senses completely. Slowly you will feel the relaxing of your muscles, changing of your surroundings and feel your presence to be somewhere in more serene, calm and peaceful environment, in some deeper dimension. After spending some time in that place when you come back to your senses you Will find yourself more fresh and completely rejuvenated.

This is for daily prompt Expect

Dead inside.

Nothing is as bad as broken heart. Pain seems to subside but the bleeding continues inside. The hurt no one can see the pain no one can feel, but the one who suffers. Sometimes the scene is so bad when you cannot express your condition and can’t cope with it either, people on the outer front either don’t get what’s going on or they think we are just faking. Some people go to limits where they say shrug off your sadness change your mood and smile it will be OK soon as this all pain and sadness is in your mind. Be strong, have positive thoughts and don’t linger on, on what should be let go off are the nice advices we get, but I wish this could be so easy that by mare a shake of head everything could be  gone, disappear into the thin air.

The moment eyes are closed their voice admitting their act of cheat and everything else is clearly audible. The mind at that time becomes a record player which keeps on playing and re – playing the scenes from the bitter reality. It’s like heart trying to forget and mind refusing to do so. Sleep for us is a way to escape from the brutal reality but there also we find no peace. If only this sleep could turn into a never ending episode,  so there would be no need to wake up and run from all those thoughts of heart ache and pain. All day in wakeful hours what we do is try to keep all those thoughts at bay by indulging in something or the other. But the moment we stop to breathe the same thoughts crop up. All the pain taken to forget goes in vain.

There are times when it seems we are normal, to others of course,  but in actual we are just hiding behind a mask which we have put on, so no one is bothered or try to bother us because some times people do listen to our problem but they do not understand. They just hear but don’t get the point. This hurts more. To fake a smile to hide the tears and escape the bothering

seems far more easy rather than explaining people what we are going through which they actually don’t understand. Those are the times when I really feel dealing with physical pain is far better than dealing with emotional pain.

The mind plays so many games with you that you just can’t bear the situation. There are many times when you want to share your pain or just let your thoughts out but the mind tricks you in such a beautiful way that you are always standing alone still figuring out what to do with the idea of sharing. Basically you are standing on a two way path completely confused not able to make out whether to tell and feel relief or to be quiet and just don’t bother others with your problems as anyhow they won’t understand. You will find yourself always standing on that two way road, not moving an inch here or there. After sometime the opertunity will pass or you yourself feel that now telling anyone of it will be of no use. Again whenever you have something to speak out your mind will confuse you, in other words will not let you speak and then you find yourself standing again on the same point. It seems like you are frozen in time. Heart and mind are on fight continuously. Where heart want to trust mind differs and where mind puts it’s trust heart has its share of disbelief. Not only this but in the lone hours person himself is in war in the lonely dark places of mind. It’s like you’ve been closed and left loose in pitch dark room without any clearity and you are bombarding your head. This happens mostly in the nights when you are alone to yourself and everyone else is asleep. Even if you have the company of your love then also it hardly matters. The moment you close your eyes you are dropped in front of hungry tigers and lions. And then the battle begins, a bloody battle where no blood comes, no scars are visible, but you are totally defeated and worn out the next day when you wake up. It’s the time when you don’t want to wake up, don’t want to do anything, but drag out yourself from the bed every morning. Then the other horror starts when you realise that you still remember every single bit that you wanted to forget and in that fight to forget and remember you forget only what you wanted to remember and remember what you wanted to forget.  This is how the mind and the person keep on fighting for the person they are no more and have no connection either. The heart in this process dies. But it dies a very slow death moment by moment day by day shedding all the hopes like dead leaves from a tree and when none is left there remains a big void a numbness. Nothing else remains. I have heard they say hope is the last thing a person does before they are defeated. And my personal feeling is similar to it, don’t take away someone’s hope they might have only a hope to cling to, for surviving. The moment it’s gone the person becomes a living dead which is more horrible then death itself.

I have come to a conclusion that pretending is far better then explaining. And keeping your pain to yourself is easier. There are times when thought of moving on and letting go comes, but the very moment it comes a cold shiver shakes the whole body and it becomes very hard to do so. But there will be a day when nothing would be able to stop, a day when inner self will be completely dead. No hurt no pain will be left. May the strength be showered upon.

There is so much to say and so much to explore inside hurting self but right now is the time to take a break.