Death of a ghost

The "fact" that the guava tree in the yonder fields was the domain of a ghost, made it a place of pilgrimage for the dare-devils. To touch it was the first certificate that proved your bravery. Every boy who claimed that he was no more a child but had grown up into a "man" had to perform the task of at least once going there and touching the eerie tree. But it was not just touching it. It was imperative that you get five leaves from it to prove that you were not fibbing. The tree was known never to bear fruits.

When my turn to prove my valour came, I thought at first to refuse the certificate. But then I could not remain the butt of mockery. I had still many years to spend with my friends. The time chosen to prove I was no chicken-hearted was twelve noon. It was widely believed that it was this time that the ghost that lived on it prowled out in search of its victims.

Glaring sun

Why some ghosts choose the glaring sun to hunt and not the cool of the night bewildered me. For till date I had heard of ghosts venturing out in the dead of the night... So this one was unusual, and I believe more daring and more ferocious.

Anyway my day of reckoning came. Five boys, donning the expression of judges were waiting for me at the cross road. The marked destination was just few blocks away. After that the fields began. My tormentors had varied expressions on their faces. While some had pity writ large, there were others who had a malicious glee.

I knew in my heart that there was not to question why, it was to do or die; become a martyr in the hands of the ghost. It was five minutes to noon. My time had come. As I took the first few steps, I turned back, and saw my dear friend Kake wave at me. From his face it appeared as if it was the last good bye. Such apocalyptic vision made my heart shudder.

My march was slow, but not my heart beat. At that moment I cursed my self for not having learnt any of the holy hymns. With it, I blamed my parents for not being foresighted enough to give me a charm to wear, in order to protect me from any evil eye. So many of my friends wore it. Some around their neck and some around their arms. Oh! How I cursed my fate and the unholy planetary alignment on my day of birth.

My walk to the place was agonisingly slow. After I crossed the last house of the lane and turn right towards the fields, I turned back to see my tormentors, but the shrubs shrouded the view.

Transfixed

I was suddenly transfixed on seeing a crowd, where the ghost was suppose to dwell. I could also hear quite a lot of human clamour. "My god," I thought, "had the devil been overwhelmed by the heroes of the nearby village", and with it my gait increased, the fear had left me, for I was not alone.

When I reached the chattering crowd, there lay on the ground, prostrate, the abode of the evil incarnate. The tree had been chopped off to make way for a farm house.

As I turned back, I could visualise my anxious judges, eagerly waiting, either for my body or for the laurels in my hands. The leaves from the jinxed tree.

Suddenly it dawned on me that a great deal of excitement had gone from life. But then how could I reveal the fact to my friends that the legend of the ghost and the haunted tree was for ever over. And then the historical truth, that they were the last judges and I the last candidate.

Vimal Yogi Tiwari is a journalist based in India.