By Ananya Mahapatra
In these last two years, it happened almost every night of Amavasya, the day when the jealous Sun determined to hide the delicacy of the moon with its bellicose light shafts, the new moons’. Srugam would always see a young man rushing towards the dark forest from his backyard on that gloomy night. But the enigma is that he has never been able to have a clear glance at the young man’s face, nor has he ever got to hold him up.
Today is the night of Amavasya again. Like in previous nights, Srugam waited patiently for the young man. “Who is that person?? Definitely not a spook. Then!!... or is he??” He murmured. One thing is for sure he is definitely not scared of ghosts. A shady kerosene lantern was hanging up near his head. Seems like it’s not been cleaned for decades. Having a glass lantern those days in their village was a fortune which he got as a gift from the kind Granny living at the village end.
The first time Srugam caught a glimpse of that young man was a year ago, and the first thought that came into his mind was -“did he steal something??”- He even tried following the shadow with suspicion of theft, but it suddenly vanished, and Srugam couldn’t get what he was looking for. Even if there’s not much in his hut, he still looked after the whole house if anything got stolen and talked about the possibility of theft with his neighbours. But nothing was missing, neither his nor at others. After keeping an eye for several days, he finally moved on, thinking that was just an imagination.
But right after a month, in the same Amavasya night, Srugam again felt a shadow was watching him from afar. He got up and hurriedly looked after the silhouette. Yet again, the moment Srugam thought, now he could see his face, the shadow began to fade and started moving towards his backyard to the forest. It completely vanished within a span of his eyes near the forest. Two days passed, and Srugam still kept his eye open at night, but it didn’t sight again. The same has been a ritual for Srugam and the shadow man in each Amavasya night.
Days, months, and just like that, six nights of Amavasya passed. Within these six months, all those Srugam could see was just a silhouette. But with time, he understood that was not a coincidence; there must be some reason behind the scene; the shadow he was seeing was definitely not a thief. He finally had a serious talk about this with his mother and some close elderly neighbours.
“That must be some ghost or a spirit.” His mother said. “don’t roam around at night, basically, in Amavasya. Darkness helps the spirits contact the living and make spiritual activities. Because they can’t face the light, they prefer gloomy nights, and no night is gloomier than the night of Amavasya. With the help of darkness, their powers increase.” Yet Srugam wholly ignored.
Finally, he saw the face of that man on the seventh Amavasya. But again, it had already disappeared in a span. All Srugam could think was, ‘that face…why it… seems that familiar?!!’
But he couldn’t understand why and how!!! Right after that, Srugam again couldn’t catch his sight for the next five Amavasya nights; he could disappear right after, making Srugam curious about his existence.
One month to go for a year; the last Amavasya night is yet to come. Srugam used to go to the dark forest near his home or sometimes to the hillside near the village end. The woods near his home is suitable for hunting, whereas the hillside one is good for lumbering. Whenever he went to the hillside, he would surely visit the Granny living nearby.
“Grann…Grann...”
“Ohhh... Why are you shouting like that...”
Srugam went up to the verandah and sat near the stair. “Ummm... what’ll be on the house tomorrow??”
“Let’s see... What do you want to have?? Would you come!??” “Well, I want to; how can I not? But… what’s so special about Amavasya?? Nobody celebrates it in the village.”
“Hmm, that’s the charm. The uniqueness... A dark night and a bonfire in the yard... It’s good that you don’t have a scary instinct.” “Ohhhh, you scary little Granny. I have had enough of your stories since childhood.” Srugam paused a moment, “well, I have some business tomorrow night too. I could visit in the afternoon.” “Business!!! Okay.” She patted his head dearly and said, “what’s happening with you nowadays?? Why are you looking pale and thin??”
“Is it?? But I am eating—”
“It seems like someone soaked your energy.”
“Like some ghost or a Dahani?? Or a Chiriguni??” Srugam laughed at Granny.
“The old woman panicked, “what nonsense, Chiriguni’s don’t soak energy. All they do is look after their baby. And— “And?”
—And sometimes more-or-less make an attempt to bring their baby back.”
“Bring back…?”
“Yes...kill them.”
“But… isn’t it??”
“Hmm, once a baby is killed, it can’t live as half-dead as a Chiriguni; instead, it’ll become a spirit then haunt or vanish.” “So what’s the Chiriguni gonna get?”
“After continually getting this lesson, some of them stopped and just tended to protect the babies. But still, there are some vicious ones out there.”
After the talk, Srugam went to the hill for some wood, did his work and unbanded alongside the stream. After eating his lunch, he bent towards the water to cleanse his face. But…right after his eyes, “this…this face…it’s….” He moved his hand alongside his face time again. “That man…his face!!!
Then he suddenly remembered something, ‘Mother once said, ‘‘ you look exactly like your father.’’ ’ “father??!! But how is this possible and why on earth??” Then, with a halt to the headache, he shook his head, “it’s getting tricky, I have to talk about this with someone...but who??? — granny??!!!!!!” without a second, he ran towards her hut.
By Ananya Mahapatra
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