Tuks and spirits

                                                              

Tuk drives are always entertaining, bumpy, dusty rides. But at times, they offer a little bit more than what you bargain for.

If you’re abroad and missing home, one of the first things that you will probably start to miss about your paradise island is the taste of a spicy, freshly made pol sambol with roast paan and parippu. Nothing beats that. Except for maybe kottu. Followed by the all-authentic tuk experience. 

The three seated box like transportation device is the sight-seeing genius of this century. Hop on it and trace your way through the winding roads of the city without hassle, especially if the driver is knowledgeable. It’s cheap, compact and fast so a handful of friends can easily scoot about in it. It also so happens that normal vehicle laws don’t apply to these things in the sense that tuks can take U turns on roads that can’t and in fact don’t allow vehicles to do so. This is done at the discretion of the driver and passengers but done nonetheless. The uncovered sides let the people inside get an eye full of the uncharted view of everything outside, while exposing them everything outside, including the elements of dust, rain and vehicle fog. 

During the night, the local tuk experience is equally entertaining but more to the dodgy side. There are not many people on the road, and the lights in the few cars that pass your tuk, cut straight through your vision as the cool night air whooshes past your ears.  It was a quarter month moon that night. The stars littered the sky like glitter dust, piercing each inch of the dense, black blanket with little specks of burning light. 

Theekshana travels at this time because his job is on shift basis. He doesn’t mind. In fact, he prefers it to traveling during the day. He avoids harsh sunlight, stuffy busses that play biscuit kudu music, clogged roads, dusty pavements and people running about like hamsters in their wheels. At times there would be no buses so he would hail one of the few darting tuk tuks. Few of which would actually stop to take a wiry passenger. There’s no fixed point where he would hail one, so sometimes he’d have to actually go looking for one. On that night too, he wondered off into the thick darkness starring up at the sky occasionally, and ogling the few odd characters that were his fellow commuters at this time. Save for the rare 24/7 saiver kade , every other shop is fast asleep by this time.  He kept on walking for a while, noticing how peaceful the eerie quiet was when he spotted a tuk in a quiet corner of the road. 

It was resting next to a closed shop by the road, almost hidden because its lights and engines were off, unless someone was specifically combing the area looking for a one, this tuk was dead to the night. Theekshana happened to be that one person who was specifically looking for one. He saw a feeble light seeping in from a half opened door a few yards away from the sleeping tuk, and assumed – no - hoped that whoever the driver was, was inside and would be willing to hitch him a ride. He had already braced himself for the high rates that were sure to be pelted at him because he knew that the prices in the night doubled to that in the morning. He thought he would hang around until whoever was inside the dim lighted room came out so he can ask if they would take him. His own impatient shuffling about annoyed him to the extent that he thought it would be okay to sit inside the tuk and wait for the voices inside the dimmed room to stop. And wondered which was ruder, to go knock on their door at the dead of the night and ask if the tuk was for hire, or go sit in it and wait for them to come out. 

He mentally opted for the second one and found himself at the back of the tuk tuk waiting for something to happen. And something did happen, quite unexpectedly too. As soon as he was getting comfortable in his seat, Theekshana felt as though he was being strangled. He felt clammy hands wrap themselves around his neck and the further he struggled to unlatch himself from whatever thing he was, it tightened its grip around him more and started to choke him. Tears fogged his vision as he flayed his arms and battled against the invisible clutches that held on to him so forcefully. His cries were muffled by his own thrashing around and as suddenly as the mayhem started, it stopped.

Theekshana scrambled out of the tiny interior and ran for it, without giving much thought to finding out who or what that had tried to assault him. 

Epilogue 

Theekshana had later visited the vicinity to get to the bottom of things. Apparently, someone had murdered the owner of the three wheeler to get it. Since then the vehicle is known to have been haunted. Whoever gets inside is attacked by an unseen entity. They had tried to sell it but no one would ride it, let alone buy it and eventually they allowed whoever to take it for no payment but still no one would go near it. A monk who had been called in to bless the vehicle had been able to communicate with the spirit and that was how the murder was revealed.


Original print on Ceylon Today on 4th of October 2014

Recovery

The steady beep-beep of the heart machine next to her bed is soothing. It's the sound of life coursing through her veins, predictable and reassuring that things would soon go back to normal. Last night, the little lines that zigzagged through its screen had almost stopped. She'd have a minor scar where they had to fix her up but she'll soon be up on her feet, the doctor had said.

The lights in the private hospital above her head were dimmed and flickered a few times before she woke up. Her vision was fuzzy and disoriented and her head felt as though it had received a good pounding. She glanced around to absorb her bearings.

The small white room, her bed, a curtain that was open around her and a small table to her right with a few items were some of the things she could see through her groggy peripherals. There wasn't anyone around but she remembers the faint echo of Lal's voice telling her that he was stepping out to grab some food. Her head continued to throb in tune with her pulse as an overwhelming sense of thirst washed over her. Her mouth felt like a dry sponge and her tongue clawed for some water. She eyed the flask that rested on the bed side table next to her and wondered whether she could reach out for it without dislodging any of the tubes that were stuck on to her arm. After a few strenuous efforts of twisting to the right and shifting to the left, the flask still seemed a thousand miles away. The urges to drink water and the overwhelming weight on her head that longed to rest back on the pillow were in tandem.


Just as all attempts of reaching out to the water seemed to fail her, a small figure appeared by the door. The figure belonged to a small, fair girl, aged maybe 12 or 13. She peered from the entrance and smiled at her, one of those shy but friendly smiles that serves as a polite gesture among strangers. Her floral dress came right up to her knees while the two plaits she wore on both sides swung when she gestured an inquisitive nod at her. Rashmi managed to produce a weak smile and motioned towards the plastic cup on her bed side table. The girl timidly made her way to her side, removed the piece of cardboard that covered the cup and handed it over to the patient who gulped it down. Rashmi smiled at her, a meek and grateful 'thank you' and slumped back into bed, closed her eyes and tried to sink back into the damp maze that was now the inside of her mind.


A nurse, who had been making her rounds, asked if she wanted any water as that's what patients want right after an operation since it leaves them quite thirsty. Rashmi mumbled that she already got some water thanks to the little girl, probably a visitor who had come to see another patient, just a few minutes ago.
The nurse nodded and checked if everything was alright and left the room. She met Rashmi's husband on her way out and explained to him what happened. The girl who had visited Rashmi is an apparition that is rarely seen in the hospital premises. Of course, the nurse didn't want to alarm Rashmi by telling her, but had told her husband about it.


The little girl in the floral frock and hair plaited in two, never speaks to anyone but gently smiles and was once even seen seated next to a patient's bed. She does not make her presence felt when there is more than one person in the room and since this was a private hospital, most of the rooms are usually occupied by one patient. This had been the first time that she had helped a patient with something. She is usually seen roaming in the halls, or around patients' beds. With her fair skin tone and hair that is more brown than black, she is assumed to be of Burgher origins and since this was the hill country, locals like to think she is someone from the olden days when the hill capital was riddled with foreigners.


Author's note - What I found strange about this apparition was that it was actually able to move the cup when it in fact, does not have a physical body. But apparently they can. The source I spoke to (who I will keep unnamed) did some research on the matter and he discovered that it is actually possible for energies to manipulate physical objects depending on its level of capability. Some entities have positive energies while others have negative energies. And it is possible for them to use it. However, this fact isn't 'scientifically proven inside a lab so I wouldn't be able to tell you for sure. But let your imagination run wild with the idea, no-the possibility of energies influencing physical bodies.

Original published in Ceylon Today September 14th

Wrong number

It's an awfully warm night tonight. That was the second wash in two hours and I'm still not cooled. Believe me, all I wanted to do was just stand under the shower and give in to the feeling of chilled water washing over me. But then I thought about the poor children in Africa, who did not have any food or water. "And here you are.Wasting precious water 'chilling' in your shower when those poor deprived children don't even have water to drink"

How me saving water on this side of the planet would help them in that part of the world, did not make any sense to me, but it seemed like the right thing to do. The whole Gandhi and the "be the change you want to see in the world" thing floated in and out of my guilty pleasured consciousness and I soon walked out of the shower.

It being the tropics, you'd assume the days to be hot but the nights to be cool. Tonight clearly doesn't fit that agenda. Rather quiet too. Too quiet, if you ask me. I can't even hear the wind rustling the leaves outside. Which could also explain why the inside of the house is so warm. No wind, Stupid Heat. Enough to fry a blooming egg. I pictured a miniature me inside my head, cooking an egg on a frying pan. I half chuckled, half groaned at that mental picture.

Today was one of those days. I couldn't find my darn phone to randomly poke at. And I think the stupid fan was making the heat worse. I heard some science-y dude say that ceiling fans only increase heat. Apparently the air that is near the ground gets heated and rises. (This would ideally allow cool air to rush in and fill that gap) But what does the ceiling fan do? It pushes that warm batch of air right back at you. The result is that a ceiling fan is utterly pointless.


The heat is making my verbal diarrhea act up again. My brain just refuses to stop talking. There's no one at home also, to complain alongside me. That'd have made this pesky situation much easier to handle. Mom would have made some nice cool fruit juice, and dad would let me use his A/C office room. But then, both of them have gone out. They said they'd be back soon, though. I don't mind... I know I know... I've seen all the movies about spooky houses and so on. There's no one at home and things go bump in the night because someone's dead grandma is toppling things in the attic or something. *shrug* That's Hollywood. This is real life.

I lie in my bed listening to the steady 'tik-tok' of the clock. The house is so quiet; it's actually kind of irritating. I usually like the stillness and peace that the absence of sound brings about. But, urgh! The stupid heat! It's driving me nuts! I heaved a sigh and switch on the radio so that at least the sound of people talking will make this eerie quietness go away.


I grope around to find my phone. URGH! I groan outloud again and head over to the house phone downstairs. It could be in the TV room, or the bathroom, or even in my bedroom. I gotta call it, and then rush back upstairs to listen to the ringing tone to locate it. 'Oh well, at least something to do,' I muse during my descent downstairs.

I dialed my phone and let it ring. Just as I was about to keep it down on the stand to rush upstairs, the 'beep beep' noise at the other end stops. Yikes. Did I accidently dial a wrong number? Poor chap on the other end. Must have woken up for this. I didn't even speak to say "Sorry, wrong number" but hung up the phone and dialed again. This time I held the phone to my ear, a while longer and again, just as I was about to keep it, again someone picks it up. Feeling a little silly this time because I again, dialed a wrong number.


"Hello, I'm really sorry, but this is a wrong number," I say apologetically to the mouth piece.

Silence. "Hello?" Probably the person at the other end is sleep-answering. Just as I was about to keep the receiver, I heard a slow rasping grunt at the other end. Followed by heavy breathing.

"Hello? I'm really sorry for calling this late. I accidently dialed this number" And I quickly kept the phone.
I checked the caller ID and read the number out loud. Wait a minute. That is my number. See. 077- 47240. My blood froze. But then, who answered the phone?

Originally published on Ceylon Today Guys and Girls on June 1st