The Lady in the White Saree

It was a moonlit night on Marine Drive, the shimmering Queen's Necklace casting its hypnotic glow on the Arabian Sea. The bustling city of Mumbai had settled into a restless quiet, with only the distant hum of taxis and the occasional bark of stray dogs piercing the air. For Arjun, a seasoned taxi driver, the city’s pulse was his lifeline. But tonight, something felt off.

Arjun’s old taxi rattled down the curve of Marine Drive as he lit another cigarette, hoping to shake off the eerie feeling crawling up his spine. He had heard the stories—the Lady in the White Saree, a specter said to haunt the area, preying on unsuspecting drivers. But Arjun wasn’t one to believe in ghost stories.

“Superstitions are for fools,” he muttered to himself, turning the dial on his taxi's radio. Static greeted him, followed by a low, guttural hum that made his hair stand on end. He quickly switched it off, the silence somehow worse than the noise.

As Arjun approached a dimly lit stretch of the road, he saw her. A woman in a pristine white saree, standing at the edge of the pavement, her long black hair cascading down her back. She raised her arm slowly, signaling for a ride.

Arjun hesitated, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. Memories of fellow drivers recounting similar encounters flashed in his mind. But his practicality overruled his fear. A fare was a fare, and she looked like someone in need of help.

He pulled over, and she slid into the back seat, her movements almost fluid, as if she were gliding rather than walking.

“Where to, madam?” Arjun asked, forcing a casual tone. The woman spoke in a soft, almost hypnotic voice, “Drive to the end of Marine Drive... near the old pier.”

A chill ran through him. The pier was abandoned for years, a desolate place avoided by locals. But Arjun nodded, starting the car.

As they drove, Arjun couldn't help but glance at her through the rearview mirror. Her face was pale, unnaturally so, and her eyes—dark, hollow voids—seemed to bore into his soul. She stared out at the sea, unmoving, her white saree glowing faintly in the dim light.

The air in the car grew colder. Arjun noticed his breath fogging up the windshield, something that shouldn’t happen in Mumbai’s humid weather.

“Are you alright, madam?” he asked nervously.

She turned her head toward him, in a slow, deliberate motion. “Just keep driving,” she whispered.

The words sent a shiver down his spine. He tightened his grip on the wheel, his knuckles turning white.

As they approached the pier, the city lights faded behind them, replaced by an eerie darkness. The sound of the waves grew louder, crashing violently against the rocks. Arjun’s unease turned into dread as he realized they were completely alone.

The woman gestured for him to stop. “Here,” she said, her voice echoing unnaturally in the confined space of the car.

Arjun parked and turned to look at her, but the back seat was empty. His heart raced as he twisted in his seat, scanning the area. She was gone.

Panicking, Arjun stepped out of the car. The night felt heavier now, the air thick and oppressive. He called out into the darkness, “Madam? Are you there?”

A cold breeze swept past him, carrying with it a faint, sorrowful wail. He turned toward the pier and froze.

There she stood, at the edge of the pier, her back to him. Her white saree fluttered in the wind, though there was no breeze.

“Who are you?” Arjun managed to stammer, his voice barely audible over the crashing waves.

She turned slowly, her face now fully visible. Her hollow eyes glowed faintly, and her lips curved into a chilling smile. Blood dripped from her mouth, staining the white fabric of her saree.

“I was like you once,” she said, her voice no longer soft but guttural and filled with malice. “A simple soul, just trying to make a living. But they took it all away. They robbed me... and left me here to die.”

Arjun’s legs felt like lead as he tried to back away. “I didn’t do anything to you!” he pleaded.

Her smile widened, revealing rows of jagged teeth. “And yet, you are just like them—driving aimlessly, blind to the pain you pass by.”

Before Arjun could react, she lunged at him with inhuman speed. The world spun as he felt icy hands around his throat, squeezing the air out of his lungs.

“Now, you’ll join me,” she hissed, her voice echoing like the wail of a hundred lost souls.

The last thing Arjun saw was her terrifying face, inches from his own, as the world faded into darkness.

The next morning, Arjun’s taxi was found abandoned at the pier. The police chalked it up to another unsolved case, one of many linked to the legend of the Lady in the White Saree.

Locals whispered among themselves, adding Arjun’s name to the growing list of those claimed by the ghost of Marine Drive.

And as the sun set that evening, the white saree glimmered faintly under the streetlights, waiting for her next victim.