The Find of Ghosts

(Part One)

It was the month of Chaitra, and the courtyard was filled with harvested crops—lentils, peas, chickpeas, pigeon peas, and other pulses. These crops had been brought from the fields in bullock carts and spread out across the large courtyard in front of the house. The task of transporting the crops was almost over for the year, and Bhavesh, the bullock cart driver, had only one job left—cutting the rice straw for the bulls to eat. In the afternoons and evenings, he would gather the children of the neighborhood, seating them in the bullock cart, and entertain them with his stories.

And his stories were always about ghosts. He would speak of fish ghosts, tree ghosts, cemetery ghosts, and even spirits from graveyards, claiming to have encountered them all. He would boast of his connections with the spirits of banyan, tamarind, peepal, and sheora trees, as if they were his relatives. According to him, there was no ghost in this world that he hadn’t met yet.

However, one day, driven by some inexplicable urge, he left his home and vanished. To this day, no one understands what prompted him to do so. One evening, Surendranath, the second master of the house, brought him in from somewhere, introduced him to everyone, and said, From now on, Bhavesh will stay here, eat here, and work here.

Bhavesh, about thirty years old, stood with his head bowed, dressed in worn-out clothes. His face was almost completely covered by months of unkempt hair. Even on that day, he was silent. If anyone asked him about himself, he remained quiet, just as he does now. After five to seven years of working at the house, people had gathered that he had no family left—his parents had passed away, and he had left his brother and sister-in-law's household for good. After that…

No one ever imagined that he could disappear again, before dawn, without a trace. When they finally realized it, no amount of searching could bring any result.

That evening, the children were listening intently to Bhavesh's ghost story. He spoke of an old tamarind tree at the edge of the field, next to an abandoned temple—a place where ghosts supposedly gathered. The ghosts were permanent residents there, and anyone who passed by at night would be frightened to death. For this reason, no one dared to take that path after dusk.

Once, he claimed, he was returning with his bullock cart and, as he approached the tamarind tree, the cart stopped abruptly and wouldn't move forward. No matter how much he beat the bulls with the stick, they wouldn’t budge. The bulls bellowed, but they couldn't take a step forward. It felt as if someone was holding onto the cart from behind. Bhavesh realized that the cart had fallen into the clutches of the ghost of the tamarind tree, and there was no escape. His body was paralyzed with fear, but then he remembered he had matches and a bidi in his pocket. Ghosts are afraid of fire, so he quickly got down from the cart, lit a match, and the cart moved forward slightly. He gathered some dry straw, lit a fire around the cart, and circled the cart seven times. Late that night, he returned home alive, by sheer luck.

Hearing such a terrifying ghost story, the six or seven children sat there, speechless, unable to utter a single word, or even move.

Breaking the silence, Nabarun asked, So, you’ve really seen a ghost, Bhavesh da?

Bhavesh, taken aback, quickly composed himself and replied with confidence, Do you think I’m lying, Nabarun? Of course, I’ve seen one, definitely. If you come with me, I can show you too.

Eighteen or nineteen-year-old Nabarun, a student of Ramakrishna Mission, had returned home after his exams to spend the holidays. He had never heard such a story before, and his curiosity piqued, he eagerly asked, When will you show me? Wherever you take me, I’ll go. Just tell me when.

Bhavesh, without hesitation, replied, Why wait? Tomorrow is Tuesday. Let’s go at 11 PM. Bring a matchbox and candles besides a torch. If things get dangerous, you might make it back alive. (Back then, not everyone had mobile phones.)

It felt like a challenge had been thrown, a battle of confidence, a fight between the truth and the existence of ghosts. Little did Bhavesh know that one day a ghost might actually possess his own mind.

That night, Nabarun was joined by two of his childhood friends, Bimal and Manik. They filled their pockets with matchboxes and candles, tied gamchas around their waists, and set out in the dead of night in search of ghosts.

They tightened their waists with the gamchas to boost their courage and strength. Perhaps that’s why all three of them had gamchas tied around their waists. Leading the way was Bhavesh, tall and lean, dressed in a white vest with a gamcha draped around his neck. He moved forward silently, followed by the three friends who felt like they were on a mission to exorcise the ghosts, their expressions reflecting that resolve.