A small scene

She sat there looking at him with tearful eyes. He moved closer and encircled his arm around her shoulders.
A sob escaped. She suddenly suppressed her mouth to stop further sobs. With the back of her palm she rubbed her tears off, which came over the rim of her eyes.
He slightly kissed her forehead and tightened his grip. She was inconsolable now. It was like a barrier was broken and tears flowed like a river uncontrollable. Her whole body shakes with each sob escaped.
It was hard for her to believe what she heard just now. She was fixed in her mind that nothing can change the situation she was in as not atleast him. His words were just to fool her because he himself said that nothing could happen to change the situation he was in.
But if this is to be believed than the situation is more bad and if he is to be believed, she was to be blamed for his heart ache. She felt guilty for putting him in the situation of deep pain and loss.
She looked up and gazed in his eyes, then told him that she won’t forgive herself till she is alive for separating him from his heart.
She loosened his embrace and shifted bit far and said that if it was not for their children, she would have moved out of his life. She said sorry repeatedly and closed her eyes and tears rolled down her cheeks.
He sighed deeply and embrace her once again and managed to say that he could understand her pain and felt it deep in his heart. Her last sobs were smothered in his loving kiss. Or so it appears.

1972. My grand mother visited her sister’s family with her children.

One early morning her two young daughters woke up and started to cry. She put the youngest one to sleep again by consoling and the elder of the two was given milk to drink and she went back to sleep.

It was winter and the sun was not up yet. It was dark outside. My grand mom sat overlooking her children as her sleep was disturbed. Suddenly she observed from the corner of eyes that the elderly lady of the family got up early to start her chores and walk past her and went to the kitchen then to her son’s room and then opened the back door of the house and went out in the backyard.

I will mention that it was an old fashioned estate home and was surrounded by vast fields and big trees, as we have in rural areas. The family was counted in richest families of the locality, blessed with two sons and a good family business apart from their earning farmlands.

So, after a while when my grand mom saw the elderly lady going out of the house, the younger son came out and got ready to go on his work. He noticed my grand mom sitting like that and told her that he was leaving for work and will close the front door while he goes out. Then my grand mom told him bit worried that his mom went out in the backyard a while ago and she is not yet back, could he check on her, what’s taking her so long in that cold?

The son looked puzzled and threw his glance from grand mom to the door and back to her, the pointed to the door and said that it was still locked from inside how could any one go outside from a locked door? What was she talking? Then it was my grand mother’s turn to be shocked and she looked towards a small room where the family used to offer prayers daily and from the elderly lady in white came out and took the round of the rooms and went out.

After this incidence the riches of the family were all gone. They lost the business and suffered loss at their work. They had to leave their home and move to other places for earning their livelihood. The affection between the brothers was affected and the peace was lost.

Recently they sold their property in the village and their was some misunderstanding between the brothers regarding distribution of money earned from the selling of property. The relatives had to come in between to solve out their problem. The families of both the brothers are not in very good position now.

Today, my grand mother told me this story and revealed the truth, I don’t know how many of you will believe me or may you won’t as I myself don’t believe but the truth is, that day, according to my grand mother, The Lady Luck or ‘The Goddess of Wealth’ moved out of her sister’s home.

Work in progress

These days I am at my brother’s place. Came for summer vaccations. I am enjoying my days here. Nothing much to do, infact nothing. Everything is taken care of by my sister in law and brother.

This gives me a lot of time to read and work upon my new idea. Even collection of new things for my writer’s book. I take time to write something everyday, even if its a single para or charcter development or back story. Sometimes it is for the next scene in the story. It makes writing little faster.

Developing the story from those notes and back stories and hints is interesting. I am loving it. I miss my books here as couldn’t get them due to luggage weight issue but still the online library facility provided by my library, is filling the gap.

I thought of writing a short story in the series of romancing the reaper or the devil. But I am not able to do so, it has developed into good seven chapters and still on, I am getting freaked out.

My story is about The devil falling for a girl and not realising it. Even the girl doesn’t know who he really is. The catch is, The Devil sells his soul to her and loses a bet to her. Rest is in continuation.

I hope it finishes soon so I can share it with you all.


It was a beautiful spring morning, everyone gathered arround the tea table in the morning parlor in the manor.

Waiting for the tea after breakfast. The parlor had blue colored walls and the window panes were white. Out of the window, looking over the green spring garden, yellow buttercups were patting on the windowsill as if asking permission to join the tea party. The yellow of the buttercups was a bright contrast against the lush greens of lawn outside.

There came Miss Marry with tea trolley, filled with freshly baked tea cakes and cookies, one of her speciality. But then iy was th3 celbration of her golden jubilee association with the family, as a care taker. She was now more of a family member rather then acquired help, who came to my grand ma 50 yers back.

Dorothy ‘ s Seat

Reading Steve still standing ‘ s post “the wait…short tale” made me remember a story of past, of time by gone long ago. Ages or time untold.

It’s a real incident as I’ve been told by locals. In summer vacations of 1990s I with my family went to a hill station in Uttrakhand  (then Utter Pradesh). 

The place was Nainital. A hill station in the lap of Himalayas. It was then a very small and insignificant normal village, but the British developed it into a town. To get relief from the Indian summer they use to take refuge there. It is thus called British hill station. 

No, I am not here to discuss the well known beauty of the place neither the head less ghost roaming on the governor house road or the ‘ thandi sadak’ but to share a story which shows how love can wait for long long time. I don’t know what’s the truth but I love to believe what I was told by local guides there and what my Mom used to tell me about the place when I was a child. I start my story and leave it upon the readers to decide whether to believe or not.

There was an English lady called Dorothy, daughter of an English official who resided in Nainital. Young Dorothy fell in love with English soldier and they were engaged. 

Little away from the town there is a place called ‘Tiffin Top’ on top of the nearby hill. After climbing or trekking the hilly road for 3 or 4 km the view which comes face to face is a huge flat space covered with soft-fresh green grass, surrounded by ‘cheer, deodar’ and oak trees, where people used to have picnics, they still do no doubt. Moving further ahead of this place for about 10 to 15 minutes dead end of the hill comes. It’s like a Creek hovering over he town below. At this end point there sat a huge rock, this was the meeting point of the lovers. 

When the duty calls, no man in uniform turns his back, so the lover of Dorothy too made a promise to return soon and left. Since that day she used to go and sit on the rock all alone, waiting and crying for him. They say years passed but no news from her fiance came. She finally gave up the hope and her life too. 

Since then the place came to be known as ‘Dorothy ‘ s seat’. And the rock has engraved imprint as proof of her waiting. As it’s said  she used to sit there since morning to night. 

That’s what waiting is…its truly said Love waits beyond the time. I have seen the rock, from a distance as to reach it, one has to  climb the fence. But now 22 years have passed so don’t know the developments.  Only some stories where they say she was married to some British Col. And died in airplane crash so in her memory he built the place, the other one goes like this, that she was an British artist and died there so her parents, got the place named after her, as a memorial.  

This was the first story that strike me after the above mentioned post.


“What is the time?” Asked Rashmi.

“It’s 8.00 p.m. right time to have your dinner, love.” Replied Sarika right from the dining table. She was serving herself with biryani she made from the recipe she watch last week on TV.

It seemed Rashmi was still not in the mood to have anything. Actually she was not yet over the scene that occured in college canteen, students making fun of her chubbiness.

When she slept weeping hard she didn’t realise. The alarm for 7.00 a.m. went off on her alarm clock standing on her bedside made her jump off the bed in horror realising it would be late for exam if she doesn’t start getting ready in 5 minutes.

That evening when she came back,she felt little better. Actually she was glowing a bit. When Sarika asked what was the matter she even blushed a bit. Then replied in a shy voice ” That new boy in our Bio class…” “Who that handsome hunk with sects?!” Exclaimed Sarika. “What about him?” Narrowing her eyebrows Sarika.”…..nothing he just…just…I mean just smiled at me and…” hesitating a bit Rashmi trailed of her sentence.

Next day when Sarika got up she noticed Rashmi was already up and was humming a line of romantic song…This act of her earned a googling eye glare from Sarika. But Rashmi didn’t notice all that and took a bottle of water girl perfume and sprayed and tucked her flying string of loos hair behind her ear, took her books from the table just near the door and was about leave her girls hostel room when Sarika came half running to catch up with her.” I am happy to see old you back.” Smiled Sarika.

In college canteen that day Rashmi, Sarika, 2 other girls of their class were sitting on a table adjacent to one of the big windows which looked onto the parking lot for students across the garden full of green hedges and variety of flowers. Every one was busy discussing the new boy in class but Rashmi, her eyes were scanning everything and everyone outside the window. She was half heartedly concentrating on the discussion when one other other girls asked her if she was looking for the new boy.

She was taken by surprise at the question and blushed. Same time her blush increased a bit more and she bowed her head down and closed eyes crossing her fingers. Seeing this the girls looked in the direction of the entrance door where on a single chair table the boy was sitting looking directly towards them  and staring Rashmi with a sweet smile.

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

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.


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