A Ghost Story

One of the most dependable conversation topics, over the age, has certainly remained "ghost story". Excitement overriding the fear, groups -- irrespective of age -- gather in a protective huddle and eagerly anticipate possible impacts. Some debate over keeping the lights on, while others want it dimmed. Some want a hushed narrative, while other ask for sound effects in onomatopoeia. I have never been a huge fan of the genre, but owing to my super-active cousin and another very dear friend, who absolutely love anything "horror", I am bound to watch (and mostly confuse The Ring with Orphanage or The Conjuring with The Omen), and take it in a blah-spirit. I cannot much accept the lack of logic. I act "wow, I am so overwhelmed", but they know, I hardly am. They tolerate me, because I tolerate them too. "Company matters, not the cinema genre, bitches!" I smartly add, and take a sip of my drink. Now, the surprise came when my daughter C, asked me last night for a "Gost Stori Momie!" Never had I asked my mom for one! It is another thing though, that she often insisted on telling me some "true" ghost-stories. Challenged by C, I feel heavy. How to construct a ghost? I humbly fall back to the truth of life, that create stories.

Little one, you don't like Chhuti, do you? You like going to school, fighting in the bus, having your friends' tiffin, and coming back to Tucks and your colours. You are alone most of the time, when Ammu-Mashi goes to sleep, deceiving her that you are asleep too. I do not want you to believe in ghosts. So I cannot really tell you a ghost story. But I will tell you what had once happened to me.

Long back, when I was your age, I was being very naughty with Naani, doodling on her legs while she was asleep. She was rather angry when she found out that the back of her blouse was full of zig-zag tangents. She woke up and screamed at me, "If you do this again, a ghost will come and put you in a sack and throw you in the drain. You won't get to have eggs there!" That did the trick. I was so consumed by someone trying to steal me of my day's daily breakfast egg, that I began to behave. Some days later, while I sat with sums, I began wondering why would a ghost steal my portion of egg. It must be loving eggs too! Overjoyed, all my sums went wrong that evening.

That night though, after your Naani switched off the lights in my room, I woke up and walked to the window which opened to an unending green pasture. I was sure that the ghost lived there. So I called out to it (in my mind of course, else Naani would come beating me). No one came up to reply. Disgusted and sleepy, I went back to bed. It was there, waiting, under the mosquito net. Mosquito net is (used to be) a thing, C, like a tent, or a trap, to keep mosquitoes from biting us during sleep. We have moved to Good Knights, who lay the invisible tents around Momie and you, so that mosquitoes are away. C, dear, a ghost was there, right on my pillow! You would imagine my horror, but I have always been smart, so after pretending a poise, I went on to words.

"Do you like eggs?"

"Yes" it said, in a very grumpy voice.

"If I will give you one bite every morning from my breakfast, will you not put me in your sack?"

"OK. But I also want this pillow." It said rather determinedly. 

I had no idea what to do. Your Naani would surely hit me with her khunti if she found an entire pillow missing. I could not possibly risk that. So, I devised a proposal.

"Why don't you come and sleep on this pillow each night, here?"

"OK." It agreed in such a matter-of-fact manner that honestly, I was a little hurt. And since then, C, as you must have noticed, Momie doesn't sleep on a pillow. She lies when she says she has a bad back and sleeps without a pillow. Actually, ghost is my friend, and comes and sleeps next to me every night. But you see, C, it has never hurt us. So, do not be afraid. Sometimes when you see me speak with the wall, thinking there are little lilies, or flying fish around clouds, it is actually Ghost that I am speaking to. Ghost is a good buddy. Would you want to meet it?

Tonight, C? I warn you though, it might ask you to wear your clothes, or share your toys. You have to decide, whether to be friends with it, or be fearful forever. So, once again, tonight, you meet Ghost, C? Hope you are ready.

I hope C does not understand that I plagiarized the concept of a ghost-construction from the only one I know of -- Casper, who is friendly. Don't chain me, please. The other day I chanced upon an extremely, exquisitely, elaborately sweet Bengali child ghost, on TV. Her name is Bhutoo! She is so sweet, that I don't mind her being friends with C. And C being an only child, certainly needs training in sharing. A ghost to begin sharing with cannot do any harm, what say, readers?