Ghosts are for real!

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Sometimes some happenings occur which leaves a deep impact on our lives. No logical explanation can be given as to why such a thing happened. Among the numerous incidents that have occured in my life, one such incident remains embedded forever in my mind. It happened in the 1960s when I was about 8 years old. My father was an Engineer in the Government of Assam(India) and was posted at Tezpur, a small district town in those days. We used to live in a huge bungalow in the top of a hill, just besides the mighty river, Brahmaputra. The bungalow was a legacy of the British Raj. It had a huge garden in the front and a large backyard. There were the servants quarters, the quarter of the Driver and that of the Gardener, nearby. I used to study in "The Saint Josheps Convent School" run by the Missionaries, about a kilometre away. Life in those days at Tezpur was very simple. We had no TV or such things, so our spare time was spent by playing games in the backyard or in the garden. My family consisted of 3 brothers and 3 sisters. 2 sisters were younger to me and the other 2 brothers and 1 sister, elder by a couple of years. So I spent my time with my younger sister, the servant boy and the Driver's son, who was my fast friend and in whom I confided myself completely. I don't remember the exact date or year of the happening, but remember very well that my school was closed for Summer Holidays. I used to spend the long hot summer afternoons playing inside the house, as playing in the open was forbidden. One hot afternoon, I was playing alongwith the Driver's son, the servant boy, my younger sister and two other girls of my school who had come to visit me. We were playing Carrom in a large room. As the room was without any furniture, we played squatting on the floor. The other members of the family were having their afternoon siesta after having lunch - a common practice in India, still prelevant today. So as not to disturb the others, we were alloted this particular room to spend our afternoon. We were having a wonderful time playing and quarelling amongst ourselves, as to who was the best striker. We were deeply engrossed in the game. Suddenly, we heard a strange sound - a sound like as if something was fluttering and being split aside. We looked towards the place from where the sound came and saw a strange thing. We saw that in one corner of the room the space was splitting aside with an earshattering sound, something like "Phat,phat,phat". As the sound subsided slowly, we saw an old woman bent with age. She was wearing a saree with a pinkish white shade and leaning on a stick, but her feet were not on the ground. She was floating on space. She was staring at us, eyes wide opened without a blink. Her eyes were vacant. She had grey stringy hair with some black in it scattered in a disorderly manner on her head and face. And her face - Oh! What an ugly face it was! It was a withered, leathery dark brown face full of deep furrows and wrinkles. She had a deep frown on her face and kept on staring at us with her vacant disapproving eyes. I felt that she wanted to say something to us, but no sound came. The Driver's son was the first to react. "Bhoot! bhoot! (Ghost,ghost), he shouted. My sister screamed and clung to me. We all ran outside the room shouting "Bhoot! bhoot! (Ghost,ghost). Hearing all the hue and cry, everybody came running to us. After a lot of explanation, my parents went inside the room, but there was no one there. We searched the adjoining rooms, the garden and the backyard, but there was no one. My parents whispered something amongst themselves and then told us not to play in that room again. From that day onwards the room was locked up. We were strictly warned not to enter the room again at any cost. Years later I learnt that an old woman who was a maid servant of an English family during the British Raj had died in that very same room. Even today whenever I think about the incident it gives me creeps. The horrible face of the woman has been forever embedded in my mind. I have never been able to forget it. It will always remain as fresh as it was, on that terrible afternoon. I believe that Ghosts really exists. Readers are requested to contribute any interesting episodes on the subject or their comments.