It was a moonlit night and quiet.
Just the sort when you imagine leaves rustling, someone walking top toe ...
But there was no sound except an owl hooting from far away.
The silence, after the city noise was unnatural.
And she heard someone calling her name in a whisper!
Startled she looked around. The door was closed, so who could be there?
The candle flickered and a whiff of cold air entered the room.
Was someone outside the window?
Or is it shadow.
She flashed the mobile torch in that direction!
The owl hooted.
Someone was banging the door!
- Memsaaab! memsaab. Dinner lag gaya. A jaiye!
She jumped up! The lights were on!
Selected ghost stories was opened next to her and she had dozed off!
Relief.
She opened the door.
- Aiye memsaab! Par aapke room me koi aya tha? Dekhite joote ki nishani.
Indeed dusty shoe marks on the mat!
But do ghosts wear shoes?
This write up came back with a note of regret – for not being able to make to the next round in the competition, to the editor's table. Well, this is the first time I competed , that is if I do not count the House Competition essay writing, where I came second after Champa. Actually I do not why I took part – chance, curiosity or plain gambling …..because writing for me has always been a catharsis – an expression that I can share …..So no regrets , really! The road may be narrow and dark…….. It was 1983 and life with Baba always veered on the unexpected and the adventurous. Like that road trip from Kolkata to Delhi via Agra. We had this faithful Ambassador that took us on this journey with Baba at the helm and our cleaner Kalipada as his first assistant. I was the official navigator and Giri uncle, my father’s friend, in charge of our ummm, let’s say security, since me and my cousin Dimpi, both all of 18, needed an escort , officially. Baba always liked the un-tr...

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