Spooky

Spooky is whatever our senses are not trained to interpret or understand. It lies outside the domain of ordinary life.


My maternal grandfather had to reach his village where his wife was counting her last breaths. The bridge on the river he had to cross had broken down, and he was wondering if he will have to swim across.

A bullock cart appeared in the shallow water, and the driver wrapped in a blanket asked him to come on board. After reaching the other bank, he turned back to thank his saviour, but there was no one in the range of his vision. The helper had mysteriously disappeared.


       My 82-year old uncle who could walk with difficulty, came out to welcome my  mother on the main gate, after climbing down a few stairs. His voice was loud.

“Welcome, welcome … I was just waiting for you. Come and take care of your sister.”

(His wife was my mother’s sister, and they were close).

All three of them were attending a satsang (a religious congregation where people meditate) next morning. My uncle was the speaker. His voice echoed in the auditorium through the mic

“Keep your bags packed. You never know when the call arrives ….”

Saying so, he fell on one side and a thick garland from his guru’s photograph fell on him. The end had arrived.

A meditator from the audience later claimed to have seen two of their cult gurus arrive on a cart-like thing, and lend a hand to pull my uncle on board.

Looks like he was aware that the end is near and wanted someone to be with his wife in times of bereavement.


Sunday Confessionals: Spooktober

11 thoughts on “Spooky

    1. I accept that stories change form over a period of time, but there must be a molehill to create a mountain. Then, it has become difficult to separate truth from fiction.

      The above two stories are real which happened in my extended family, so I don’t see exaggeration.

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