She would see shadows following her whenever she used to go upstairs. Once she could swear she had seen the table move on its own in the kids' room. And more than once, she had seen babyji whispering to the air around her and then breaking into giggles. Kanta would cringe every time Ayushee passed her. She could feel an extra pair of eyes boring into her back and she could hear an extra pair of feet tip-toeing into the house behind her memsahab's daughter.
She had been skeptical about taking up work in this house even though the pay was great. She was not keen to do a full-time job in that house but she needed the money for her younger daughter's marriage. At night, she had contemplated leaving the house abruptly but her consideration towards the memsahab had argued, urging her to help. And today, the meals went stale just like that in a matter of minutes. It was the work of the devil. There was no questioning that, she knew. She confirmed her decision of not coming back to this place ever again and walked on the lawn. Something bad was about to happen to the Bajaj family, she could sense it. She would call in sick from home later on and never ever return.
She was thinking about the entire scenario when she passed the banyan tree, treading the narrow path that would take her straight out of the woods and onto the road outside from where she could walk to her humble quarters half a mile away. She had hardly gone two paces ahead of the giant tree when a faint rustle of dead leaves alerted her. It sounded like someone had crunched them lightly
The Other Side
233 beneath their little feet. She turned around feeling frightened to look over her shoulder. A sudden gust of wind blew in her face; dust entering her eyes as a strong flowery fragrance clouded her senses.
Kanta quickened her pace, almost breaking into a jog, panting as she went ahead rubbing her eyes to see as much as she could of the jungle path ahead. She tried to keep up with her rapidly pacing heart and in the process failed to notice a cluster of rocks lying ahead. She crashed to the ground, letting out a painful cry. She clutched her ankle with both hands, taking away the attention from her still hazy eyes. She tried to stand up twice but fell down both times, unable to bear the pain.
“Kanta,” a voice sounded in her ears. It was more of a whisper yet it seemed to echo around the woods. Kanta whimpered, trying to remember the lines from the Hanuman chalisa hearing that croaky voice. She squinted hard, looking around wondering where it came from.
And just a few yards away, she could see a little girl walking towards her, a bunch of flowers tied to her bouncing hair, the banyan tree touching the skies in the background. As she came near, Kanta could not control her body from trembling much like the dead leaves in the wind. She could not help noticing the red rope marks around her little neck as she joined her hands in prayer, trying to mutter words with sweaty lips. The last thing that Kanta remembered were the girl's eyes focusing on her. They seemed as dark as the sky on a moonless night.
Four hours later, a frantic Mrs. Bajaj was trying to get through her husband's number. She finally found him on his office number. “Come home now, please,” she said between sobs.
“What happened?” he asked in an urgent manner.
“Kanta… Kantabai…”
“Yes, what happened to her?”
“Some locals found her dead body in the woods…” “What?”
“She had gone to order some food and…” Mrs. Bajaj started wailing.
“Calm down, Pooja. I'll be on my way. Is Ajit with you?” Mr. Bajaj asked. “Y… yes. Collect Ayushee from school,” she said, before disconnecting the call.
She sat in a corner of the hall, silently sobbing and thinking about everything that had transpired from the time they had arrived here.
“Mamma!” her thoughts were broken by Ajit's voice from the kids' bedroom. She immediately rushed upstairs where she had put him to sleep. She forced open the door and jumped back, horrified. Ajit was bobbing up and down on the bed defying all theories of gravity, his horizontally lying body bouncing up and down on the bed covering a distance almost up to the ceiling of the room, his head twisting from left to right.
“Mamma, help. Please make her stop,” the little boy screamed on seeing his mother rush in through the corner of his eye. Mrs. Bajaj ran towards her son and with all the energy left in her body, she pulled him down holding onto his waist. In a state of aggravated shock, she carried him in her arms out of the room. Ajit was crying loudly and Mrs. Bajaj was too stunned by what she had witnessed to console him.
“What was happening?” she finally asked, hugging him to her bosom.
“Didi's friend hit me, mamma,” the little boy answered, pointing to his cheeks. And sure enough, Mrs. Bajaj could make out the indisputable mark of fingerprints.