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A Queer Rainy Night — a short story
Chapter one

It was the year of 1993. In one of my regular routine area visits as a Sales Rep. throughout India as a part of the working assignments for a medium sized Engineering firm, I started off from my home city of Kolkata towards Mumbai and reached there after thirty-six hours of the train journey. Mumbai: as it is known for its vibrancy and cosmopolitanism, however, has no dearth of cheap and best accommodations for a night stay. So I checked in among one such hotel and after a night stay next morning, I again set out for the next destination called Kalyan: Forty Kilometres away from Mumbai – a suburban town devoiding of the fanfare and busy city life as Mumbai. But there is a self-imposed caveat for me or you can say a self-contradictory mental snag which I would like to point out here is that whenever I went out for a field duty I had a mixed feeling because, generally, I like to travel but when it comes to spending nights at small-town hotels far away from the main city, I felt (even now)  — I don’t know why — a sort of nervous anxiety for no valid reasons whatsoever unlike city-based hotels where I feel relatively safer. So far so good as it was not like those of remote areas which I would better avoid spending a night.  
                I had to stay there for three days to meet up the post dispatch formalities of the Transmission Hardware materials being already sent there by road transport or rail.  It was a whirlwind tour so, as usual, after completing the assignments, I had to leave for the real small town to look after the same formalities.
                          After waking up from my sleep next morning, I found the sky overshadowed by dark clouds on that fateful day and the overall mood of the surroundings was sombre and lethargic. Then, all at once, a heavy downpour started —I thought the intensity of the rain will be over by the next few hours as I had to catch up with the bus from there at 2-30p.m in the noon.  But it was the month of  June and the full rainy season time of the year. Contrary to my expectation, the rain was in full flurry and there was hardly any sign of its being checked but at 1-30p.m, it was somewhat lessened by its intensity and pouring intermittently. I had no other way out but to stick to the pre-fixed schedule to


follow suit the next day assignments there. Moreover, I had never been there ever, so the place was completely unknown to me; but I was rather reluctant to start, more so because, according to the local belief to start to a new and unknown place in the late hours of Thursday is not quite advisable as it invokes some sort of evil coincidences that have been hitherto proved – according to soothsayers -- in most of the cases so far.
                        But the commitment can’t be compromised working under an organization. Before I checked out from the hotel room at 2 pm I felt a bit dozy and fallen asleep due to the apparent influence of the weather— a destination which would take four and a half hours journey to reach there.
                        By the time I reached the bus stand, only one seat was vacant in spite of the downpour because that was the last bus that would ply across that day. I felt a bit relaxed sitting in a rear corner seat as I thought that I would be reaching at my destined place, ultimately,  no matter if it rains heavily or a splash of  moderate drizzle or whatever in between; but it never occurred to my mind that if it again started to rain heavily what would be the condition of the road traffic during the long journey. And it started to happen exactly what I thought — when the vehicle crossed the urban area of the city replacing with the rural landscape, the broken road condition became a matter of concern, somewhere it was so rugged with hidden potholes filled up with water that sometimes it seemed impossible to go ahead any more; whenever the vehicle was crossing such kinds of ditched hole it was sloping  dangerously either of the way. The driver had a tough time to manage the accelerator properly causing an unpleasant whirring of the engine in full swing. To add fuel to the fury, menacing occasional flashes of lightning made the situation extremely difficult to proceed.
                                               The bus was advancing at a snail’s pace despite all the odds and it reached the destination three hours beyond schedule— at 11 p.m. However, the rain almost stopped except for intermittent drizzle. The name of the place was Gulia— my first impression about the place when I got down was to be a sleepy town of the moderate population; at that moment it seemed like the whole town had gone for a deep slumber aggravated by the mercy of the weather-god except for the moderate buzz in the bus stand. A billboard fell in front of my eyes as soon as I got down —“ TOWN HOTEL,” I hurriedly walked past the distance between the bus stand and the hotel. There was a young guy sitting at the reception



counter, I was informed about the rate and it was, indeed. damn chief compared to the daily allowance for accommodation that I used to reimburse. But the room was too small and a bit scruffy; I was hesitating and, ultimately, snubbed it for a better option. And that was possibly the greatest mistake at those crucial moments. I had no idea of the time in that unknown remote place. The young guy at the reception tried to dissuade me and I turned a deaf ear to his request to take for a halt there, at least, for the night and came out with my baggage for the allurement of better option only in that dark night with disturbed weather condition.
                             When I got out a light drizzle started again and this time with a kind of windy spell with a roaring buzz all around in the vicinity. It seemed to me that everybody in that small town gone for a good night’s sleep resting everything for the next morn and I was the only person in that town who were roaming around for nothing.  Suddenly, I felt very lonely and helpless — Some sort of creepy feeling seemed to overpower me. Moreover, my vision was becoming obstructed occasionally because rain-drops sipping in on my spectacle glasses and I had to wipe it out frequently to get it workable. It dimmed my vision all the more precariously as there was no trace of any street light anywhere along the way. On that pitch darkness, I could curse myself only for not availing of the opportunity that came along my way. At that particular moment, I thought to take the reverse direction to reach out to the bus stand adjacent hotel but in that darkness, I fumbled and lost the proper way to go there. It was as though under some weird spell that I was moving on aimlessly for a better hotel accommodation. All of a sudden, I guessed a kind of a shadowy human figure walking ahead of me keeping approximately twenty feet distance. I had not seen even a single human figure prior to that along the way so it gave me a hair-raising chill through my backbone instantly but also kicked off an unavoidable curiosity to enquire what that shadowy figure could be. I increased my pace a bit to catch up with that figure but the more I tried to decrease the gap, it kept on increasing more and more — at that particular juncture the stunning silence gave way to the howling of a herd of jackals somewhere from far-off surroundings. So, however much I tried to push myself to come closer to identify the figure in the darkness, it failed. All at once, a spark of lightning in the sky broke up the mystery — blue jeans with a top clad young woman was approaching slowly along the way. Amassing all my strength and


courage, in spite of the numbness that I felt all throughout my mind and body at that moment,  still I managed to enquire her in a shivery voice who she was but hardly met with an answer; instead, she seemed to have reached beyond the capacity of my ability to catch up with her with the increasing gap between her and me and at one point of time vanished off from my vision.
Chapter two
                       Trudging along in that fashion desperately for quite some time, I suddenly found a path led off on the left and without giving much thought, I entered there and noticed some scrappy building structures spreading on both the sides of the, more or less, wide pathway in that poor visibility. After walking past for ten minutes, at least, like that way and whoa! — a three-storey building fell before my eyes and a signboard that read: ‘Hotel Dimlight.’ Matching with the name, the hotel was also very dimly lit, maybe, because they had put off the outside lights with the coming of night in that abnormal weather condition – I thought. In that pathetic state, I felt it a boon to spending the night there. First of all, I had to find out the reception counter and when I got nearby, I saw an arrow-marked concrete narrow staircase took off, possibly, to the mezzanine floor.
                            When I reached in front of the reception desk, I got a severe jolt to see the spine-chilling face of the guy who was sitting there. The eyes pushed deep inside the eye-socket and it was as if burning as a fire, his blackish complexion with the deep jawbone and sporadic furrowed lines on his face looked him to be an awkward and somewhat mysterious one. I gazed at him and almost with a trembling voice asked, “Is there any room vacant for night stay?” The guy answered in a curiously motionless state, “Only one double bedroom is vacant at the top floor corner.” At that very moment, my inner soul was signalling me to leave the place right away — a kind of feeling that I had been confined in a booby trap and at the point of no return from there at that dark night. My wristwatch was reading twenty minutes past twelve. I put down my small luggage near the counter and told the guy that I was going outside and that I will be back after a while; the guy tried to tell me something but I just moved out from there rapidly down the staircase and started to walk along the opposite direction of the pathway from where I had entered there previously. The light drizzle was still continuing with occasional sparks on the far-off sky. After a few minutes of walking, I noticed a tiny shop was still open — a typical shabbily covered betel & cigarette counter


made up of dark tin scraps; a faint flicker of an oil lamp was the only source of light. I saw an old man was sitting inside counting the coins for the entire day’s sale and looked in a hurried mood to shut down immediately. I went in front of the shop and asked him for a pack of cigarettes. The man lifted his face and looked at me and silently stretched out his hand with a pack of cigarettes. I lit up one and then asked him directly, “I stayed at this hotel, the hotel is ok — Isn’t it?” The man kept mum as if he had not heard anything. I repeated twice the same question and he at last blurted out, “Where do you come from?”  I replied and again he said, “When there’re hotels near bus stand then why do you come here in the dark of night and in this bad weather condition?” When I asked about the reason he gave a metaphorical reply in Hindi and said, “Idhar bahut Macchar kat-tha hai babu” (There’re too many mosquitoes here). His last words panicked me beyond measure and wobbling through the pathway like a drunkard, I descended on the hotel reception and in one last desperate attempt picked up my luggage and was about to leave the place come what may. Just at that juncture, a middle-aged gentleman popped up from nowhere and with a pleasant smile introduced me as the manager of the hotel and persuaded me with the best of his abilities to stay there, at least, for the night.
              As there was no other alternative but to act in accordance with the existing situation, I paid the bill and the guy on the reception pushed the table call bell and a room attendant reacted immediately by lifting my luggage and gestured me to follow suit. After crossing the shadowy corridor with barely sufficient light, we reached a corner point room on the top floor. When I entered the room, it was all the more scantily lit up than even the corridor and a musty smell overpowered me right from the word go. I hardly looked at the face of that attendant up till then but when I gazed at him finally, I felt somewhat chill through my spine in that insufficient light — his flinty eyes and grimacing face read something different, unlike other room attendants who usually tend to be smiling and friendly. Surprisingly, he didn’t speak a word with me and departed silently as he came. After ten minute’s time, he again came with a jug of drinking water; put it on the stool and went away. After all those ordeals being over until then, I felt hungry and asked for some bread sandwiches through the intercom. The husky voice in the reception said that it will be reaching in a moment. After a few minutes, that attendant stepped in once again holding a tray in his hand and like previous fashion kept it on the stool and gone away without speaking a word. After gorging the stuff


within a few minutes, I was about to shut the door for a deep slumber as I was already very exhausted due to the happenings that hitherto unfolded before me. But before I close the door, I peeped furtively to observe the overall surroundings, particularly the other occupants at the opposite side of the corridor; and I became horribly astonished when I found that I was the only occupant at the whole floor.  
CHAPTER THREE
I didn’t change my clothes so just putting off my shoes, I lie down to sleep. It was quarter past one but I could not close my eyelids due to a creepy feeling that came over me all along aggravated by the musty smell and the overall spooky atmosphere in the room. I didn’t  have any idea when I got into a drowse till I heard repeated soft knocks  on the rear side door facing the veranda of the outside pathway  and it made me awestruck beyond imagination that how would someone coming from the rear side of the third floor in the middle of the night instead of coming  way inside of the front door reception.
                As the time passed by, the soft knocking gradually replaced by a flurry of repeated blows on the door and it became unbearable to tolerate any more; I sprang up from my bed and grabbed the intercom receiver in shaking hands and dialled for room service but to add to my double whammy, in spite of repeated trying, there was no answer from the other end. The blows on the door persisted, my wristwatch was showing twenty past two — a long way ahead before the sun rises so I decided to open the door to break the jinx and, simultaneously, felt that I never came across in such a helpless and frightened state in my life and was thinking about the possible impending danger associated with that act as well. But to break the deadlock, ultimately, got the better of my terrifying mental state and slowly I came near the door and chanting mantras from holy book flung the door wide open — it was all blank in the dead of the night and no one was standing there; only simultaneous ominous wailing of cats could be heard from afar. I shut the door with a temporary sigh of relief and got to my bed; although the bang on the door also stopped but the wailing of the cats was making a heavy toll on my already weird nerves — a clear sign of something terrible to happen and despite my best attempt to ignore, it hardly worked. At that particular moment, I woke up from my bed for answering a call of nature but before going there, I lit a cigarette for a couple of moment’s  respite and then switch on the toilet light from outside and leisurely moved toward the bathroom, pressed open the door  and was


thunderstruck at the most awful spectacle that emerged before my eyes — and stumbled across the woman with blue jeans and top likewise whom I had seen a while ago in blurred vision while coming through the pathway, kept lying dead on the bathtub in a pull of blood  oozing out from several stab wounds out of her body; she was lying slantwise facing the door with one of her hands stuck out of the  bathtub  and a large bloodied knife laid on the floor in one  corner of the bathroom.
                  I was awakened by the sound of the call-bell and hurriedly woke up to open the door — Oh God! I realized that I was in a spell of a horrible dream. I opened the door and the room attendant informed that he came, at least, one hour back but after repeatedly knocking at the door met with no answer; he came for the second time to inform me that the Area Sales Manager from Kolkata wanted to speak to me at the reception. (He knew where I usually stayed at Kalyan). And he also wanted to know when did I proceed to my next destination as the Executive Engg. of that area telephoned him that they wanted to get the materials checked as soon as possible. I told the ASM that I was heading for that place tomorrow and that I had to defer the journey due to heavy rain…etc…etc and he lightly scolded me for not attending the phone one hour back.
 Next day the sky was clear and reached my destination at the scheduled time in the afternoon. The signage for the “Town Hotel!” met before my eyes and checked in there without allowing a second thought — it was a cheap hotel with small rooms as I saw in my dream. As soon as I entered the room of  The Executive Engg. the next morning and after exchanging pleasantries, he suddenly asked me in which hotel did I check in and having heard my answer he muttered, “God is merciful!”  I gazed at him for a few moments and asked him why he was saying so — he answered that the last night there was a gruesome murder of a young woman in the “Hotel Gulia…”  
           Whenever I thought about the incident in my later years I could not imagine why I had seen a pre-replay of the incident before it actually occurred — it still remains a mystery.
        
      


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