Inexplicable

It was that time again. The 90s Bengali Pop songs were getting louder and louder as time went by. For my father, working in the attic didn’t help. You see, the annual fair was upon us. Twice a year during my school holidays, my family would go to my grandmother’s house to stay for a few weeks. It was usually the second time we went, when the annual fair which is very famous in that village, happened. This fair has been going on for about a hundred years on a 2-acre rice field during the off-season. It is called ‘Kali Mela’ after the goddess Kali who is worshipped during the first two days of the fair. As I became older, I didn’t go to the rituals, but I have faint memories of looking at her Idol. As Hindu Gods go, she is probably the scariest-looking one. With her tongue sticking out, and the severed head that she held in one hand and a trident in the other, she is truly frightening. And she has quite a peculiar fan base also, legend goes that in the early days, Kali was worshipped by criminals, dakoits and thieves. Around 150 goats are sacrificed every year for her. So as much as the fair is supposed to be a happy occasion, I always felt a bit eerie. 

In the early days, all of my extended family on my mother’s side used to stay at my grandmother’s. Nowadays, people rarely come, and even if they do, they don’t stay overnight. The fair lasts for 5 days and It’s usually on the first day that my religious relatives will come and give their offerings to ‘Maa Kali’. As time went by, I saw people having kids and careers, some of my older relatives died. The number of people coming to the fair was always a good indicator of time.

Since the fair is in a rice field, there are various ways to go to it and every neighbourhood has its own secret pathway. The one that we used was a shortcut in which we had to go through a bamboo forest, slide across a narrow pathway between two ponds and then go through someone’s backyard. This year, since no one came except from my family, I was going to the fair alone. Standing in the bamboo forest, I was reminded of an incident that happened when I was 12. That year we had the most number of guests that had ever visited the fair. All the rooms in the house were filled with at least 4 people. Some people had to sleep on the terrace. So at night before dinner, we all went to the fair together. 

There were various types of shops at the fair. Just like any other carnival, there are food stands and game stands. But there are also specific shops like utensil shops, bangles shops and home improvement tools shops. Some of these shopkeepers, my grandmother knew and she always got a pretty good deal. So, roaming around this large area you quickly see the differences in the interests of adults and the kids. We got separated from them. It was me and two other boys from the neighborhood. I don’t remember if we were looking for a sweets vendor or a rifle shooting game but we were lost and it was pretty crowded and we didn’t have any phones. We had two options, to keep looking for our parents and hit some sweet vendors on our way with the limited amount of money we had or go back home immediately. I don’t know if it was absolute panic or the fact that we always wanted to travel that horrifying path alone, but we chose the latter option. 

With me were two of my best friends. Chotu, I have known since childhood. He was quite poor and his dad left his mom for another woman when he was 3. And by left, I mean just up left with his coworker – no contact whatsoever. His cousin Kartik was the most handsome kid I have ever seen. He lived in the neighboring village and only showed up during the fair. Budo is the cousin of my Aunt. He’s probably the bravest of us all. I was the oldest. Collectively you wouldn’t find a meeker and more afraid bunch of kids in the whole village. 

First, we had to go through someone’s backyard. I don’t know if someone even lived in that house as the walls were old with large cracks in them. Through these cracks poked out small trees – a classic symbol of a haunted house in those areas. One thing I forgot to mention was there was total darkness throughout the pathway. We didn’t have a single light source. We didn’t know what we were walking on if it was even earth – we had to rely on our instincts. Occasionally you would hear a fox in the distance. As if we needed a reminder of the spookiness, we were put ourselves through. We walked as close to each other as we could without being labelled as scared cats. None of us wanted to acknowledge the upcoming bamboo forest but there we were standing right before it. 

I remember a story about that bamboo forest that my grandfather once told my mother. He said that he was once walking through that same bamboo forest when it was raining and he saw a bunch of bamboo on the ground. He casually hopped over them when it suddenly sprung upward throwing him in the nearby pond. He called it – the ghost of the bamboo forest. Regardless of that silly story, a bamboo forest at night in total darkness is even scarier. The leaves sway in the wind making a distinct sound which sounds like someone whispering in your ear. And since bamboo grows near to each other they often twist and hit each other making a knocking and creaking sound much like the door creak of a horror movie only a hundred times more terrifying. None of us said a word. No one was willing to cross it. It was impossible without a flashlight. I was about to take a step back when we saw a light coming towards us. A man wearing a white kurta was holding a giant umbrella and casually strolling towards the forest from the other side. We were so afraid – we looked at each other almost immediately agreeing that the man was a ghost. We wanted to run but we couldn’t move. He stood in front of us but we couldn’t see his face with his flashlight pointed at us. He asked if we wanted to cross the forest and we slowly nodded without saying anything. Then he let out a small laugh and pointed the flashlight towards the bamboo forest. It immediately lit up and all the bamboo created a perpendicular shadow on the ground – like the emergency lights of an aeroplane. We ran as fast as we could. It was the most exciting and adrenaline-fueled moment of my life. For a moment I looked back but I couldn’t see the mysterious man anymore. We finally stopped at my grandmother’s house. Grasping for air – we heard an announcement on the giant carnival speakers: “Mr. Sagnik Patra, your mother is waiting for you at the fair reception please come quickly”. One of my elder relatives was sitting outside on a bench. He saw us and called my mother. 

It was a crazy night. I can never experience that excitement again. My friends have gone off to different parts of the country. There are too many light sources these days. Everything has changed. Except the sound of the Bamboo Forest.