The Other Side(59)

Mrs. Bajaj turned away with tearful eyes and made her way to their room, silently praying that no calamity should strike her small family.

She skipped dinner and the hunger worsened her insomnia in the middle of the night as she lay on the bed, twisting and turning again. On an impulse, she walked towards the bedroom window, pulling back the curtains staring out into the backyard with empty eyes. She focused in on a figure moving silently towards the woods in the distance. Without thinking twice, she rushed towards the main door. Though they always locked it before going to bed, the door was wide open. The kids were too short of height to open the two latches above. She ran on the green lawn, her feet moving quickly.

“Ayushee,” she called out but the figure would not turn.

She quickened her pace, her breath engulfing her lungs and caught up with the figure. She placed a hand on her shoulder and the figure suddenly stopped in its tracks. Standing completely still, the figure rotated its head a full three sixty degree, the back still facing Mrs. Bajaj.

Mrs. Bajaj screamed, horrified and retraced her steps, not quite willing to witness the scene. She could not run away, her body frozen by the shock of seeing another face on the body of her daughter. It was the face of a little girl around the same age as her daughter. Red puncture marks surrounded her neck and her eyes were completely black minus the pupils inside.

“Go away from here,” her daughter said but the voice was not hers. It was hoarse, boiling with malevolence.

Mrs. Bajaj was jolted awake as the figure laughed in a devilish manner, its head spinning fast like a whirling top over her daughter's body. Mrs. Bajaj turned and ran as quickly as her shivering legs would allow. Her husband was snoring when she entered the room, drenched in sweat.

“Wake up, wake up,” she shook him.

“Huh? What is it, Pooja?” Mr. Bajaj said in a groggy manner.

“Ayushee, Ayushee… something's wrong with her,” Mrs. Bajaj tried to describe what she had seen.

“What?” Mr. Bajaj said, getting down from the bed and switching on the lights.

Finding his wife mumbling incoherent words with dazed eyes, he walked upstairs to check on their daughter. Two minutes later, he came back to their room.

“What is wrong with you, Pooja? Ayushee is sleeping in her room. I just checked,” Mr. Bajaj informed, sounding irritated.

“No, I saw her. I saw her in the garden. Her head turned like this…” she tried to demonstrate holding her own head, but couldn't manage to turn it beyond her shoulder level.

“Her face… her face… It wasn't her face…” she tried to say.

“Shut up, Pooja. Stop this nonsense. You've been hallucinating again. I understand you're disturbed by Kanta's death. We'll go see a psychiatrist soon, ok?” Mr. Bajaj said, taking her hand in his.

“I'm not mad. I'm not lying,” Mrs. Bajaj said, freeing her hand from his hold.

“Go to sleep, Pooja. You've had a bad dream,” Mr. Bajaj said, switching off the lights.

Mrs. Bajaj lay down on the bed, thinking about what she had just witnessed. The dreadful black eyes kept coming back to her whenever she tried to shut her eyes. The silent house seemed to call out her name. She pulled the blanket over her body up to her face when she started seeing shadows on the walls.



As their car entered the premises of the police station a couple of kilometers away, Mr. Bajaj sneaked it in a corner. Turning to look at his wife, he sighed.

“Pooja, just relax. Let your fears go. Don't be nervous when you are talking to the inspector. It'll only complicate things. I hope you understand what I mean,” Mr. Bajaj said rubbing her back.

“Let's go back home. I don't want to leave the kids alone there. Please,” Mrs. Bajaj pleaded. “Pooja, for God's sake. It's a holiday today. Ajit wakes up late anyway and Ayushee sleeps like a log till the time no one stirs her and it's only eight in the morning. Within a couple of hours we'll be back home. Just calm down for now, ok?” Mr. Bajaj asked starting to unlock the car door.

Mrs. Bajaj nodded meekly and alighted out of the car from the opposite side.

The inspector walked in late, ordering the constables around as they scrambled around to salute him. He threw his baton-like stick on the table before calling them inside his cabin.

The horizontal black nameplate introduced him as Pramod Sawant. He smiled asking them to relax as the couple took their seats. The interrogation went smoothly and to Mrs. Bajaj's delight, his wife did not freak out, not even when the inspector mentioned the gory details of Kantabai's death. She seemed deep in thought and replied to the inspector's questions to the point.

“Getting late, are we? I understand you're a housewife,” Inspector Sawant said after noticing Mrs. Bajaj eyeing the wall clock on the opposite side for the umpteenth time.