The moonlight filtered through the leaves to give an eerie touch.
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I was then a science student of Class 11. I would go for evening tuitions that would sometimes stretch till the late hours.
It was a moonlit night in mid-June. The sky was overcast and the road damp. The moon seemed to play hide-and-seek behind the strips of dark clouds fleeting across the sky. After the tuition, some of friends started chatting with each other and, it was nearly 10 p.m. when I started for home. The mud road leading to our house was desolate. As it was a rainy day, the path was slippery and filled with potholes full of water. The atmosphere was eerie.
A big tamarind tree stood at the end of a long trench covered with water hyacinth, like a green carpet. There were umpteen scary ghost stories surrounding that tamarind tree and the trench. Usually, while returning from tuition, I would wait with my cycle just before the trench for some company before going along the path. That day I waited long, but in vain. Eventually, I started pedalling fast to go quickly as I could.
I had cycled only a few metres when I perceived something white under the tree. To my utter horror, I noticed someone was standing there as the moonlight filtered through the leaves fell on the particular spot. I applied the brakes and the bicycle skidded, leaving me flat on the muddy ground. Somehow I got up and ran some distance at breakneck speed, leaving my bicycle behind. But the thought of my bicycle lying abandoned prevented me from leaving the place.
I gathered courage. When I drew closer to the tree, I clearly saw someone was still standing there. Picking up two big stones, I decided to encounter whatever it might be. As I crept forward, I saw that it was a woman in a white sari. I heard of a churel (demoness) encountered by many at that notorious spot. However, my desperation had then reached the point of complete fearlessness.
I stretched out to hurl a stone at the churel when the “apparition”, in a shrill voice, asked me to stop for I might hurt her. The woman turned out to be an elderly widow. I heaved a sigh of relief. I wanted to know the reason for her frightening passers-by. She confessed that she had no such intention. She indicated a hut behind the tree where she lived with her family. She had been waiting for her grandson who had gone to fetch some groceries. From that day, neither did I see anybody under the tree nor did I fear to cross the road alone.
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