Hi! I am back after sometime and this time I have a story to tell you. This story dates back to pre-independence times. Nevertheless, it always has remained one of the most thrilling stories I have ever heard from my Grandpa's collection (My Grandma also used this same story several times to keep us quiet when we were younger). My Grandpa was in the Police Department and he always told us stories enriched with his experience in the summer evenings when there was a power cut and we kids couldn't run about the house. Well let me try to do justice by narrating it to you now...
I belong to the state of Orissa. In those days in Orissa, when most of the state had not seen development and was mostly full of villages, incidents of the sort that I am going to narrate weren't surprising. My Grandpa was a police officer in a nearby town where this particular case was filed. A lady had committed suicide after killing her baby, following a family quarrel. There were no witnesses to the case except for a hand-written letter from the lady which specified the reason of her drastic action as a quarrel with her husband.
Grandpa set out for the village to assess the situation himself. The route to the village involved a small wood. It was around 45 minutes before he could reach the village that a lady clad in a simple red-bordered white saree along with a baby tied to her back (with a cloth, as most tribal women do) appeared on the road. She was carrying a bundle of sticks with her. When she saw the police jeep, she seemed to be asking for a lift. Grandpa stopped the vehicle in front of her and asked her to get in. She seemed pleased to have been relieved from the long walk to the village. She sat very quietly in the Jeep with her baby and bundle of sticks and wiped her face from time to time to remove the sweat accumulating on her forehead.
After sometime, when she had overcome her initial shyness and apprehension, she asked, "Going to the village, Sir?" "Yes", was my Grandpa's short reply. "For the suicide case, I assume", she enquired again. "Yes" said Grandpa. "Well Sir, I also live in the same village, you can drop me at the entrance and I will walk down to my house", said the lady and Grandpa replied with an okay. But the lady seemed to have gained courage during this short dialogue, for she continued, "Pardon my ignorance sir, but do you have a witness to this case? As far as I gather from the local people around, no one knows or has seen anything to confirm the suicide". My Grandpa was slightly irritated yet at the same time inquisitive about what this lady knew regarding the case. So he gently asked, "You are right, there is no witness to the case. But you seem quite interested! Tell me what do you know about all that has happened. Did you know the lady or her family members?"
That was it, the lady just wanted to be asked and she bubbled out with what she knew.
"You see sir, the woman who committed suicide, was a childhood friend of mine. We were married at the same time and whenever we met we talked about our married lives. The last time I met her, she was in a very sad plight. The couple never was in good terms. She had thought that after their baby, things would improve. But the drunkard husband she had was hard to change, let alone improve. He was so engrossed in drinking that he hardly cared about the increasing responsibilities. He even stopped going for work. It was then that my friend started picking up sticks, as I do now, to make ends meet. But her drunkard husband used to snatch away all her meagre earnings to get him a drink. At times he used to thrash her so hard that she couldn't come for work. She once told me that she wanted to run away for the sake of her baby. But where can a woman of our caste go Sir? The world outside is pretty bad. That is why I am surprised that a woman of our caste, who had the courage to even think of running away from her husband's house, could actually commit suicide??!! Somehow, I feel that the husband must have given her a death blow from which she never recovered. On realizing what he had done, he would have hung her body. He must have killed the baby too and written the letter. The wretched man he is, this is very expected of him. Oh! Yes Sir, I must mention this. This should have struck me earlier! My friend and I never learnt to read or write. I guess that solves your case."
She had had a mesmerizing effect on her listeners, for she was the one who pointed out to the driver that they had arrived at the entrance of the village and she wanted to get off the Jeep. While getting off, she gave the directions to the victim's house and said, "Thank you for the lift Sir. I think I have told you enough about my friend. In case you require me again, try finding me here at this point. However, I feel I won't be required". She picked her baby and bundle of sticks and vanished around a bending of a kutcha road that probably led to her hut.
Grandpa reached the site of the suicide. Many people were gathered there. Some people were holding the drunkard husband who had vanished from the scene probably to get another drink, for he was still in a drunk state. Grandpa examined the people and the husband and walked inside the house to inspect the dead bodies.
And lo & behold! The woman who hung from the ceiling was none other than the woman Grandpa had just given a lift to. The dead child was also the same child she carried with her. He found the letter too. The woman wore the same red-bordered white saree, her hair was undone and she had the same tikka on her forehead like the lady who had asked for the lift.
Grandpa came out and without a word handcuffed the husband and took him along with him.
On the way back he thought to himself, there could be no better witness to this case, could there be?
I had this story first published in my engineering college magazine in the year 2002. My friends then had appreciated it. One of them in fact called me up from her home after we had passed out from the college just to check if this was a real story. (She hadn't had the time to go through the college magazine before that). Well, I can only say that I took my Grandpa's word for it. I hope you find this story interesting too. Do put in your comments.
I belong to the state of Orissa. In those days in Orissa, when most of the state had not seen development and was mostly full of villages, incidents of the sort that I am going to narrate weren't surprising. My Grandpa was a police officer in a nearby town where this particular case was filed. A lady had committed suicide after killing her baby, following a family quarrel. There were no witnesses to the case except for a hand-written letter from the lady which specified the reason of her drastic action as a quarrel with her husband.
Grandpa set out for the village to assess the situation himself. The route to the village involved a small wood. It was around 45 minutes before he could reach the village that a lady clad in a simple red-bordered white saree along with a baby tied to her back (with a cloth, as most tribal women do) appeared on the road. She was carrying a bundle of sticks with her. When she saw the police jeep, she seemed to be asking for a lift. Grandpa stopped the vehicle in front of her and asked her to get in. She seemed pleased to have been relieved from the long walk to the village. She sat very quietly in the Jeep with her baby and bundle of sticks and wiped her face from time to time to remove the sweat accumulating on her forehead.
After sometime, when she had overcome her initial shyness and apprehension, she asked, "Going to the village, Sir?" "Yes", was my Grandpa's short reply. "For the suicide case, I assume", she enquired again. "Yes" said Grandpa. "Well Sir, I also live in the same village, you can drop me at the entrance and I will walk down to my house", said the lady and Grandpa replied with an okay. But the lady seemed to have gained courage during this short dialogue, for she continued, "Pardon my ignorance sir, but do you have a witness to this case? As far as I gather from the local people around, no one knows or has seen anything to confirm the suicide". My Grandpa was slightly irritated yet at the same time inquisitive about what this lady knew regarding the case. So he gently asked, "You are right, there is no witness to the case. But you seem quite interested! Tell me what do you know about all that has happened. Did you know the lady or her family members?"
That was it, the lady just wanted to be asked and she bubbled out with what she knew.
"You see sir, the woman who committed suicide, was a childhood friend of mine. We were married at the same time and whenever we met we talked about our married lives. The last time I met her, she was in a very sad plight. The couple never was in good terms. She had thought that after their baby, things would improve. But the drunkard husband she had was hard to change, let alone improve. He was so engrossed in drinking that he hardly cared about the increasing responsibilities. He even stopped going for work. It was then that my friend started picking up sticks, as I do now, to make ends meet. But her drunkard husband used to snatch away all her meagre earnings to get him a drink. At times he used to thrash her so hard that she couldn't come for work. She once told me that she wanted to run away for the sake of her baby. But where can a woman of our caste go Sir? The world outside is pretty bad. That is why I am surprised that a woman of our caste, who had the courage to even think of running away from her husband's house, could actually commit suicide??!! Somehow, I feel that the husband must have given her a death blow from which she never recovered. On realizing what he had done, he would have hung her body. He must have killed the baby too and written the letter. The wretched man he is, this is very expected of him. Oh! Yes Sir, I must mention this. This should have struck me earlier! My friend and I never learnt to read or write. I guess that solves your case."
She had had a mesmerizing effect on her listeners, for she was the one who pointed out to the driver that they had arrived at the entrance of the village and she wanted to get off the Jeep. While getting off, she gave the directions to the victim's house and said, "Thank you for the lift Sir. I think I have told you enough about my friend. In case you require me again, try finding me here at this point. However, I feel I won't be required". She picked her baby and bundle of sticks and vanished around a bending of a kutcha road that probably led to her hut.
Grandpa reached the site of the suicide. Many people were gathered there. Some people were holding the drunkard husband who had vanished from the scene probably to get another drink, for he was still in a drunk state. Grandpa examined the people and the husband and walked inside the house to inspect the dead bodies.
And lo & behold! The woman who hung from the ceiling was none other than the woman Grandpa had just given a lift to. The dead child was also the same child she carried with her. He found the letter too. The woman wore the same red-bordered white saree, her hair was undone and she had the same tikka on her forehead like the lady who had asked for the lift.
Grandpa came out and without a word handcuffed the husband and took him along with him.
On the way back he thought to himself, there could be no better witness to this case, could there be?
I had this story first published in my engineering college magazine in the year 2002. My friends then had appreciated it. One of them in fact called me up from her home after we had passed out from the college just to check if this was a real story. (She hadn't had the time to go through the college magazine before that). Well, I can only say that I took my Grandpa's word for it. I hope you find this story interesting too. Do put in your comments.
3 comments:
Please Note the Title of the story is 'The Witness'
So u believe in ghosts?
great story and great narration... you really should write more often!
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