Sahitya Akademi

Midnight DialogueAuthor(s): Sunil SharmaSource: Indian Literature, Vol. 46, No. 2 (208) (March-April, 2002), pp. 96-102Published by: Sahitya AkademiStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/23345723 .

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Midnight Dialogue

Sunil Sharma

There are more things in heaven

and earth, Horatio

than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

Shakespeare: Hamlet

He was stuck in the middle of nowhere. Dark phantoms of tall

hills loomed large around and above him. A cold January wind

whipped the long stretch of the unlit road and the sparse trees on

the towering hills. A lonely moon, hidden one minute and visible the next, bathed the ghostly area in a feeble, silvery light. Phew!

It is scary! The tall hills rising on both sides of the road and kissing the bare sky. I am stuck here!

The road rose and fell and rose again. The distant part gleamed in the milky white of the moonlight. Behind him, the far-off fields shivered in the chilly night. Holy God! Not a soul in evidence!

A shudder passed down his spine. 11.30 p.m. He tried to start

his car. It refused. Ten minutes later, he gave up. Damn it, this modern

contraption on four wheels! He felt foolish trapped inside his gleam

ing, two-month-old Fiat car. He climbed out, shut the driver's door, and stood in the middle of the road. No vehicle coming this way. He looked up and down the deserted road zigzagging towards the

far-off town. The mild darkness and cold night hugged his tall, thin

figure. Damn it! Why did I take this short-cut where nobody ventures

out? He lit a cigarette. * * *

The expanse of the long road and the huge hills shooting up made him scared. What if I get mugged? Killed? They can throw

me into a ditch! His heart fluttered. The wind rolled down the road,

moaning eerily. The treetops swayed. The moaning — sad, gentle

- echoed in the hills and travelled down the hill-tops on to the road.

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The moon was enveloped by grey clouds. Thick darkness fell.

My God! They say ghosts come out during such a terrible

night. His heart missed a beat. Far away, an animal made a sound.

The barking of dog? A jackal? A hyena? Well, well, a dog's bark.

We do not have jackals and hyenas here!

The darkness thickened. He saw somebody move on the hill on

his right. He looked up. Nothing. The towering hills looked ominous.

He felt awful.

Then the ghost came. It was a voice.

"Hello, there!"

He jumped out of his skin. A man there in a white shirt and

a dhoti. A mop of grey hair. A straggly beard.

The voice was a hoarse whisper. The man had materialized

soundlessly from out of the shadows. Near the car.

"Saab, what are you doing here?"

Saab's hair stood on end. The apparition approached him on easy

steps. Saab bristled.

"You deaf?"

The standing man looked at the feet of the stranger. No twisted

feet. He looked at the eyes. No green eyes. "I am stuck here. My car won't start. Any mechanic around?"

The stranger returned a bemused smile.

"No."

They started at each other.

"This road can be dangerous, Saab. What are you doing here

so late?"

"You heard me."

"You should have started early." The wind carried down the same howling sound from a darkened

place. The treetops swayed. Saab changed the topic. "You live in these parts?" "Yes." "And what are you doing here?"

"Oh! I was coming from my farm."

"You are not afraid?"

"Who? Me?"

"Yes."

The stranger laughed. "And why should I?"

Saab felt foolish. "I mean scared of...umm...ghosts?" The stranger had inched closer by now. He was tall and

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muscular. He gave a twittering laugh. "Ghosts? Ha, ha, ha. Ghosts are afraid of me!"

Saab's jaws fell open, "What?"

"Yes I am the son of the sun, the wind, the rain. I am just like

them."

Suddenly the marooned man felt as if being pierced by the blazing

eyes of the newcomer.

Eyes that clamped down on him. The farmer shuddered invol

untarily. "You are cold?"

"No... Just the wind." The stranger chuckled softly. "You? Feeling cold?"

"Nope. I enjoy the wind. It toughens you."

They stared at each other. A mass of clouds raced across the

sky. A deep shadow was cast over the terrain. The unearthly silence, the silhouetted trees, the undulating strip of dark road unnerved the

stranded executive. It is so terrifying! "You may catch cold, Saab."

"Hmm."

"You are not used to open places." "No."

The executive looked at the bearded man. He does not have even

a sweater on! The executive pulled his denim jacket tight around

his small chest. "Let us smoke." Both the men lit cigarettes. Good. Ghosts do not smoke cigarettes.

Or, at least, the screen version! He smiled.

"Anything funny?" Said the bearded man.

"Just an idea."

"And what is that?" "That ghosts do not smoke and die of cancer!"

The bearded man laughed loudly. The laughter echoed off the

road and unsettled something in the dark. A howl again. Then a

boulder came down crashing from the hills on the right hand side.

The effect was paralyzing. "You believe in ghosts?" "Not much. Heard about them."

"Ghosts exist." "Did you see any?" The stranger gave him a queer look.

"Yes."

"My Gawd! Are you serious or kidding?" The bearded man inhaled the smoke and let out grey rings. Wow!

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At least, this one is a human being! "I never joke with strangers." The dull metallic voice was hostile. "And these things should not be trifled with."

"Oh! I am sorry. No offence meant. Our worlds are different."

And he regretted it.

"The world is the same. Men make them different." They were

silent. The wind moaned.

"When did you see the ghost?" The executive said in order to

make light conversation. Hell, no vehicle so far! The expensively dressed city-slicker sat down on the bonnet of the car.

"Here, on this road, two months back."

The matter-of-fact tone hit the executive with the force of a tornado. His jaws fell open. And the moon came out of the clouds.

"Here?" "

"Yes...On a moonless night..." The voice trailed off.

"How did he look like?"

"Just like me. Ordinary." "Like you?" "Yes."

"I mean in a dhoti, shirt and a beard?"

"Country bhoots do not wear jeans." Saab again felt foolish before the poor rustic.

"And, for a change, he was not bearded." The executive dropped the cigarette.

"What did he do?"

"Nothing. He appeared from behind me. I was coming from the fields. He came up to me and walked side-by-side, making guttural sounds. He twisted and swirled around me. I kept my pace. He followed me half-a-mile. At last, I told him, "Look, Mister, I am not frightened of you and your capers. Now run before I catch you by your hair." He looked at me in a queer way and then vanished in front of me. Strange?"

The city-bred man was gasping audibly.

"My Gawd."

"These ghosts feed on your fears, Saab. And I am fearless. I am not terrified of the nightly things. I enjoy these occasional walks in the open."

"You are a brave person."

They felt silent.

"Do you have ghosts in the cities?"

"Well, I am not sure."

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"There you have vampires... those who suck human blood... and

they come in a variety of forms and shapes. Ha, ha, ha..."

Again Saab's blood curdled at this open, hoarse laughter. Again something moved and howled. Saab's first instinct was to run a

marathon for his life.

"You O.K.? You are pale." "I am all right...the cold..." "I know. You are not used to the open and dark places." Saab

felt desperate. He wanted to regain control over this yokel. "Life in the cities is different... I mean not the same... we live

in crowded places, travel in crowded vehicles, work and eat in a

huge crowd... at home, we live in small flats and do not mix with

neighbours." "You are first time out in the open?" "Yes. During childhood, my father would take us out to our village

and we would spend the night under the starlit skies. And now

we do not have skies in our cramped homes....The fact is that we

have forgotten that a sky or a moon or stars exist... Trees, winds, flowers—we see them on the Discovery Channel only. It is so absurd!"

"Yes, it is absurd." The nostalgic citizen took out cigarettes. Both

lit. "I never remember having looked up at the sky... the heavens...

for the last thirty years. There was never an occasion. Crowds may be nauseating, but there is no avoiding them in a city!"

"You folks down there do not even talk?"

"No. We are a pack of dumb creatures...in a bus or train or a

park. Even neighbours avoid each other there." "It is truly inhuman!"

"Yes." The bearded man pulled on his cigarette. "All this is hard to

understand. Man not talking with man! Should a man then talk to

a dog or a cat?"

"It may sound odd but city people keep expensive dogs and cats

and talk to them. Rather, the rich would talk to their dogs and cats

only!"

Suddenly both of them laughed, struck by the strangeness of the

situation.

"I have heard about these things," said the bearded man, exhaling the smoke, "That they lead queer lives... shut themselves off in small

rooms and watch TV...exercise in the gyms...." "Yes, yes... and then go on nature tours that cost a mini fortune...

travel in packs like wolves...."

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"And hate and hurt and kill each other."

They laughed again. "It is hell."

"It is."

The cold wind buffeted them. The moon was still obscured by the clouds. The Saab felt more relaxed and instinctively felt like

trusting this total stranger on this moonless night and the deserted

road.

"It is quiet here," said Saab.

"Enjoying your evening out?"

"Yes...I;am. Now...in your company."

"City-folks are a terrified bunch/' said the bearded man." They are afraid of lonliness."

"Right. They cannot stand silence and empty spaces and lonely

nights." "The nights when ghosts prowl?" "Yes. We carry our own ghosts...Ha, ha, ha... The fact is that

we chase many ghosts in the city... success, wealth, name....They are the beckoning spirits."

"Here, in the wild, everyone is equal. King or pauper, dead or

living, all this does not matter a bit to these hills and trees and winds

here."

"You are a wise man."

"Wisdom comes with experience and observation."

The chilly wind swept them again. Saab shivered.

"Let us go, sit in the car," said Saab.

"Not afraid of me?"

"Nope." They climbed into the parked car. "Tell me more about the ghost that you saw." "A troubled soul, the poor bastard," recalled the stranger. "Legend

has it that he committed suicide." "Not a brave man, ha?"

"He was a poor farmer with a small plot. Mortgaged that plot with the money lender. Failed monsoon and famine ruined him. He could not see his children dying of hunger. One night he hanged himself."

"My Gawd," exclaimed the executive.

"Death, in the countryside, is an escape from a life of misery, hopelessness, humiliation. The bugger hastened it."

"Then he began haunting this place?" "He is a loving and caring ghost... He would chat with lonely

souls stranded on this stretch. Never hurt or harm anyone. Just comfort

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them. Isn't he a funny and loving ghost?" "Yes, he is."

The sound of a vehicle could be heard. A rumbling truck?

Wondered Saab.

Up ahead, Saab thought he saw a fleeting glimpse of an animal's

burning eyes. Shadows moved.

"I have to take a leave." The bearded man excused himself and

melted with the floating shadows.

"You were lucky," observed the portly Sikh driver over steaming

cups of a tea at the local dhaba. "That stretch of the road is haunted.

Very few people survive out there." "Is that so?" asked the relaxed Saab.

"Yes. Locals say a farmer's ghost frequents that place at the dead

of night. He stalks lonely, stranded motorists."

□

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