In the 1970s, electricity (especially alternating current
or AC) was almost a scarce resource in the city of Calcutta, and so, when
evening dawned, it turned into a City of Lanterns.
Rather than electric lamps, it was this kerosene lantern that
illuminated the city — be it a bustling marketplace, the busy office stretch or
even downtown Calcutta.
And, whatever electric bulbs there were ran on direct current or DC, owing to which even the lanterns seemed brighter than the lamps.
The lamp posts on the streets operated on DC as well.
This made them no brighter than a night lamp. Adding to the woes were the
frequent power cuts, which made the roads look dark and desolate.
The city had to go to bed early because people refused to
step out of their homes late in the evening. Around 9 pm, most denizens would
be indoors.
But many, who ventured out late in the evening, often thought
that they were being followed by someone. This eerie feeling was perhaps fuelled
by stories of apparitions, the paranormal and black magic that were apparently
“rampant” in the city at that time.
Whatever the city may be believing, it was diametrically
opposite of what Jyotsna Ghosh, an employee of the Central Excise department,
felt.
Jyotsna, who joined Central Excise in late 1971, lived with
her family in a central Calcutta neighbourhood. Her husband Nihar was a
journalist with a big publication house while daughter Subhra studied at La
Martiniere, arguably Calcutta’s best school.
In office, Jyotsna’s colleagues had a horror story to share
every day. One of them, Sobha, once told her, “Jyotsna Di, did you hear. A lady
in Behala, who was absolutely normal, suddenly walked out of her home last
night and drowned herself in a nearby pond.”
Hearing this, Jyotsna, in a huff, replied, “It must be a
case of suicide. Perhaps she was suffering from depression. Sobha, please don’t suggest that she was possessed.”
Life went on as usual for Jyotsna and her family. There was harmony in
the family generally and the only point of friction with Nihar was when Jyotsna
wanted to visit her mother’s house in Garia or uncle’s house in Jadavpur, both in
South Calcutta.
Jyotsna’s
uncle Jogen wasn’t keeping well for over a year, and for the last few months,
he was terminally ill. She told her husband, “I am going to my uncle’s house in
the evening directly from office today and will be back home by 10 pm.”
Hearing
this, Nihar retorted, saying, “No, you cannot come back home so late.”
As
usual, there was a heated argument, and after a while, Jyotsna took her bag,
slammed the door and left for office.
After
work, she took a public bus to Jadavpur, which was a dark and dingy area of the
city with myriad lanes and by-lanes. Often, electric lamps on the streets, not found
to be in a working condition, took several days to be replaced. So, the area was dimly
lit generally while some places were
pitch dark.
As the bus reached the Jadavpur bus stand, Jyotsna alighted.
She got down to find a rickshaw but unusually, there was none on the road and even the main road was bereft of proper street lighting.
From the main road, her uncle's house was almost 3 kms away. And, there was a shortcut, too, via even narrower by-lanes, which cut the distance by almost a km.
Even though a shortcut, pedestrians seldom used the alley. Jyotsna didn’t know why. “Perhaps, people want to avoid this dark and narrow patch,” she said to herself.
But Jyotsna, who had some idea about the area, decided to take the shortcut to her uncle’s house and walked along…
… It was 11:15 pm and there was no news of Jyotsna. Nihar called up her uncle’s neighbour (apparently, even a telephone was a scarce resource and not everyone had one) and Jogen’s son Ashok took the call and informed Nihar that Jyotsna wasn’t at his house.
Worried,
Nihar frantically made calls to the police while Subhra, who was in Class 1,
started crying aloud, thinking that angels had taken away her mother and she
was lost forever.
Putting
Subhra at his mother’s house in Christopher Road, which was about 500 metres
away, Nihar went to meet the deputy commissioner of police or DCP, who was also
his friend.
The
Jadavpur police got a call from the DCP’s office and a vigorous search was started
to locate Jyotsna.
There
was no trace of her, initially. After hours of search, an octogenarian by the
name Faizal, who lived in one of the alleys, came up to the inspector and said,
“Did you check that by-lane,” pointing to the stretch which Jyotsna had taken a
few hours ago.
He
further said, “There is an abandoned house inside, which is mysterious. I had
seen a few strangers come out from it in the wee hours. They said they
didn’t know how they landed up inside.”
On
hearing this, the police team wasted no time and headed for the house. In fact,
it wasn’t a house, rather a bungalow, with several spacious but dilapidated rooms inside. There was even adequate space outside.
Sambhu,
a new recruit who was part of the search team, found it strange. He asked the
officer-in-charge, “Sir, how come you have such a big house amid these by-lanes?”
The
officer replied, “This is a 100-year-old house, and at that time, most of these
by-lanes didn’t exist.”
After
a five-minute search, one of the cops stumbled upon something in the dark and fell.
On
flashing their torch lights, the cops found that a woman lay on the ground. She
seemed to be breathing, and upon sprinkling some water on her face, she got up
surprised, saying, “Who are you all?”
The
officer-in-charge said, “Ma’am, we are the police. Are you Jyotsna Ghosh?”
She
said, “Yes, but how did I come here?”
While
narrating her tale to the cops, she said, “I was going to my uncle’s house last
evening as he was unwell. But even though I know these by-lanes well, I was
getting lost every time and something seemed to be dragging me back to this
house. I came back here at least five or six times.”
She
added, “When I opened the gates of this house to see what was inside, I found
it well lit as if it were a new house. And, a woman in her fifties came to
open the door and smiled at me. After that, I don’t remember a thing.”
The
investigation officer said, “Ma’am, this house was well lit? How come? It was
abandoned over two decades ago, a few years after a man poisoned his wife.”
With
a smile, Faisal said, “Officer, it is possible. You won’t understand,” and
walked away.
Jyotsna
was wondering if it was the same woman she saw last night.
The
police, meanwhile, dropped Jyotsna home in their Jeep and Nihar also brought
back Subhra from his mother’s house. On seeing Jyotsna, Nihar said, “So, when
will you visit your uncle again?”
“May
be tomorrow morning,” she replied, but “never at night.”
Subhra hugged her mother saying, “Didn’t the angels like you?”
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