Something that scares me sometimes.

Paranormal – one of my favoriteacan’t say completely that I believe in it nor I can say that I don’t believe but it amuses me. I mean the topic.

Well leaving behind all the debate of I believe or I don’t, let me tell you a story. A story which occured years ago in my ancestral home.

It goes like this, one of the men working at our mansion, had always trouble sleeping in his quarter. As I mentioned it was ancestral so was centuries old. And being so, it had it’s own share of spooky stories. But,now don’t let me embrangle you from the main story. Well,I think I should not call it a story but true incident. So, this guy, who worked for my grandfather was given a quarter in the outer portion of the mansion. There were others also in his neighbouring quarters but they never said a thing about some sort of disturbances.

This guy alone had a problem, so we all thought either he is imagining things or hallucinating under the influence of cheap alcohol. But every morning he used to wake up with sores on his face and shoulders. In the evenings when he used to come up with cowmilk for the household, we used to surround him to tell us the story of his ‘brave’ encounters. May be from there my interest in paranormal and horror genre started.

Well, coming back to my experience, yes my experience as now I can own the incident bravely. One day he was supposed to go to his village and return by the night. That evening another house help who was assisting him, came to deliver milk and gave the keys to his quarter, saying sorry as he couldnot stay in there. First we thought this guy is influenced by the stories but then he showed a slap mark on his left cheek, which he had covered from a cloth, used to tie on head to save from heat.

Next day, we children planned to go and see in the quarter, what the mystery was? So, without telling elders and the nannies and specially the governess, we sneaked out. Six of us, a whole bunch of screaming and shouting children, full of excitement, reached the outer garden and then crossed the garage areas and there was the outer line of the house helps’ quarters.

The keys were with the eldest cousin. At time he used to be very weak hearted. And I was the bravest one. All the others in the group encouraged me to take the keys and open the door. And being a good loving elder cousin to rest of them, I did what they wanted me to. We entered in and to my surprise, the bulb which one of us switched on, went off with a blast. And imagine who was the first to escape? No, it was not my eldest cousin, but me! Yes me. Because I have acoustic startle reflex. May be some of you might be laughing at me or questioning me over the claim of being bravest of the bunch, but believe me I know what the hell I deal with when I say ASR. Enough of my side story, I will tell you what happened next.

The moment I jumped out of the room, everyone followed the suit. I gathered my wit and entered again followed by rest. We stayed in there for about half an hour but nothing happened. Apart from one of my younger cousin, who actually was scared, felt cold and heard something. Looking at his condition we left the room and locked it again. Kept the keys back in place and didn’t utter a word about our expedition.

The guy returned in the evening instead of previous night. And we were eager to see if he notices something in room. He stayed the whole time out of it and after dinner retired to his room. We were watching him from the main gate to the main mansion.

Next day it was sunday, yet we woke up soon and gathered in the common verandah. Before elders could question us, we all ran from there towards the quarters and what we saw was unbelievable. The guy with his bed and bedding, was lying outside with the bed atop him. Rest of the men and their families had come out and surrounded him. He woke up and took all his belongings back in the room, came out shutting the door behind him. We asked him what had happened to which he shrugged his shoulders and told us that it was nothing new as every night someone threw him off his bed, only this time it’s out of the room with his bed. Then he went back to his work and we came back inside.

We didn’t say anything about our expedition and never spoke about this experience with anyone. Today, decades have passed but this is the second time I am mentioning this incident. Prior to this time I mentioned it to my hubby some two years ago, I think.

For now this is all. May be in next post I will share some other such experiences from my home and other places, that too if you like. Thank you for reading till end and if you didn’t then also for bearing with me.


The image above is from Lhairton Kelvin Costa at Pexels.

He lay still like a stone, with palms open and the ancient key lying in it. The question is, did he find the lock or the curse found him first? Seeing him for the first time hinted that he might be not so lucky that his death found him at the crucial moment of the discovery. The ancient lock is said to be hiding a large precious treasure of the then warrior clan, in a hidden temple of Durian, the lost city. He used to say that only a true Durian can find and unlock the temple’s treasure. He found the rusty key somewhere unexpected, thus believed he was true descendant of the long lost clan and would unearth the treasure for the benefit of his other brothers and sisters. The shocking fact is, that he was not one of them but only the bearer of the key. Which he was supposed to deliver to the rightful person. All this was written clearly in the old manuscript he clenched in his another hand which lay across his chest. May be he realised it too late. But now the question is, who is the rightful owner or does the person actually exist. The common knowledge says, the Durians are long extinct clan. But the finding of key, says something else and the key bearer according to the manuscript, suggests there is some truth in the legend. There must be a true Durian. The right time is come for them to raise and shine. But the question still remains unanswered, ‘ who is or where is? ‘

FOWC with Fandango – Rately

I am always in a hurry when writing something or drawing and even painting. Why? I had no idea but it made my hand writing and written work look awful.
Once my friend told me to alow down my thought process so that the ideas have time get processed and be refined. And when I tried this it did make change in both, my work and handwriting.
Today when I was looking for an image for my post I found out why I face that problem. May be I am not alone and all the creative people suffer with the mess building up in their mind and are afraid of loosing the idea, for which they apply various methods to hold on. So, the fact that creative minds are rarely tidy is true to its core.
So many ideas keep on jumping up and down in my mind to come out on the paper, that I get confused. The problem with me is that I tend to forget some of the points running in my mind. I am not able to hold on to them, even though I keep repeating them and finally when I jot them down I notice it’s slightly different from my original idea or thought. The final product then is different from what I initially had in mind.
Sometimes I feel so hochpoch in there that just don’t wanna tread in my mind. The mix soup of my thoughts starts boiling at a point and then I can’t help but let it out of the pot. The mess of my mind looks beautiful or thoughtful on the paper.


Beauty of the relations lie in the understanding between people. And here I mean any relation, which is being pursued. Even with animals, birds and your pillow also counts in it at least for me.

I don’t know how many feelings and emotions have gone in there and been absorbed. It’s like secrets buried with a best friend. The understanding of the two goes here as well, mine for it and it’s for mine. No one gets same comfort as I. And on my part, I just can’t get proper sleep if I have to use other.

That brings to a question, do I travel with my pillow every where? Then the answer is most of the time no, I don’t but some times I do. The reason behind is again the understanding. Being a mother of two, hubby with busy schedules and living far from my Parnts place gives me very little time to travel to various places. So I steal all the time I get, to go to my parent’s house and there my old buddy (pillow of my teenage) awaits me. For rest of the travels if we go some where, it’s hardly for two days or maximum four, so I can manage with little sleep as I don’t have a hectic routine to follow after waking.

Then comes the understanding with my room which shares the same feelings as that with pillow.

So, see the understanding works well with everything not only between living things.

_________________________________________ for daily prompt from Nox, The Daily Spur.

My Mental Health Crisis Kit

I know many of you must be familiar with what I am talking about but some of you might be wondering what this crisis kit is all about.

So for those who are not aware that I suffer with mental health issues I would like to tell that there were moments when I was totally lost and suicidal.

It is all due to my therapist and coping methods that I can now breathe. From here when I look back, I wonder how I managed to get out of that pitch darkness. Sometimes it really hard to believe that I can now control my thought process to an extent. Hough I have regular mood swings which do turn to full episodes of depression or anxiety. I have panic attacks too, during such episodes but before they can engulf me completely, my Crisis kit comes in handy. It is for these tools or items, that I can manage the crisis.

What I carry in my mental health crisis kit?

  1. Phone
  2. Earphones
  3. Notebook
  4. Pen, Pencil
  5. Tab
  6. Medicines
  7. Books
  8. Painting note book
  9. Colors
  10. Instant Coffee
  11. Bestie’s contact Number
  12. Photos of kids

In time of need these items play a vital role. Apart from these, I have two more things to deal with mental health crisis. That is outing, anywhere, even window shopping does the trick and the other thing is shower.


It’s not the boquet of roses that I hold near to my heart,

But its full of flowers that bloom in life, called experience.

I have bright sunflowers of smiles, red roses of loving moments,

daffodils of achievements, water lilies of my trials, golden tulips of my love,

Failures are depicted by decaying greens which I carefully detach

Making way for new and soft leaves to be replaced.

I lay it in fresh sunlight of life to keep it alive and fresh,

I sprinkle water of new ideas and approach to keep it vivid and lively.

Flowers gathered everyday….