My ghost

By Gargisri Goswami

The ghost is waiting for me.

It's fifteen minutes past midnight. I can hear the jackals in the distance and the mice on the ceiling. My room feels warm now, almost hot that I throw my covers. 

It is poised at the doorstep. I can feel it. Its presence is heavy yet silent. I open an eye and see its outline, it’s there. 

I don’t want to go today. I am tired. It was a long day at work, my colleagues offered dinner and I didn’t decline. It was followed by drinks and I had one. No, maybe two or three. It’s been a while since I had a drink and it is starting to show on me.

I really don’t want to go today. 

Perhaps it would understand. Or not. I sighed and open my eyes again. It’s still there. The ghost.

 It comes every night at 12:15 to take me. And I go. I go away with it. Everyday. And return in the morning to live through the day again.

I get up and sit on the bed. My head hurts and I feel sore. I sit there for a few minutes and stare at the ghost. It doesn’t move, or say anything, it’s just there, waiting.

The clock shows 12:28. I slip on my warmer and slid into my flip-flops. Taking a few heavy steps, I reached the bedroom door. The ghost moved now.

It glides up the hallway up to my front door and waits for me. I reach the door, opening it, we move out to the narrow path that leads to the road. 

I yawn, and move my hands into my pockets. They are cold. It is cold outside and the fog makes the road appear as a blur. I cannot make out much ahead of me. The ghost leads me ahead and I just follow. I must follow it.

We walk for about 10 mins. I am tired. The legs hurt, even though they shouldn’t. But they do. 

I want to stop now but we can’t. It is getting far ahead of me and I need to catch up. Or I might lose it. I need to hurry. 

The fog is getting thicker and I can’t see more than my hands and feet. The ghost doesn’t seem to mind. It glides like it’s on water, swift and graceful. Like a swan on the lake. 

 We pass the clock tower and I can hardly make out the time, its almost 1 I believe.

Taking the right turn there, we reach the river at last. Its breezy and the breeze is cold. I shiver a little, I wonder why though. I watch the ghost waiting at the bank and turning towards me. I quickly walk up to it.

I settle down. My hands are warm now. I turn up my head to see the ghost staring into the river.

It’s time now. I sighed. I close my eyes and say a prayer; it has become a ritual now since the ghost started coming. My heart is racing now, and I am anxious.

I open my eyes to see a little girl coming out of the river. I quickly turn to the ghost. It’s gone now. That has been so for the last few days; it brings me here and disappears right when the girl appears at the river. 

The girl is almost out of the water, I wonder if she ever feels cold. I wish to ask her if she is, but I consider not to.

She sits beside me. She is wet but not cold. She has my eyes. The eyes never change they say. She is young, but tall for her age. Pale and slim. I can’t look at her; she makes me sick. She is me.

She is me from 10 years ago. Young, naïve and good. I want to hug her but can’t even look at her. We sit in silence for a while. It must be 1:30, I assume. The jackals are silent now and it haunts me to sit there alone with myself beside the river.

“Are you drunk?”, she breaks the silence. I pause, slowly turning to her I tell I am not.

“I had a drink today”.

She nods.

Silence again.

This time she turns her head to me and says, “You can drink now. You are old. You might need it.”

I was surprised, bit curious though. She continues, “I want to talk about my day now.”

I want to object, but didn’t. I stared into the water and her voice came to me. 

She talked about school; she was late today. The friends were rude as usual. She was bullied. She cried a little in the toilet. 

           I know all these. This is my life: I don’t want to hear it all again. Its hurts enough.

But she continues. 

“We will be alright, yes?” she says at the end. I am startled. She has never said that. 

I nod. She smiles faintly. I wonder if she believes me. Then silence again.

I decide to speak now, “Are you ok? I know today was hard. And I can’t promise if it gets any better. But you will be fine. See, we made it till here.”

She looks up at me. The smile is bigger now and she nods.

She starts to say how much she loves coming here every night to talk to me. It feels good, she tells me. 

“Do you miss the family?”

“Sometimes.”

“And me?”

I don’t know what to tell her. I just nod.

“I don’t think so you do, I should not be missed. You are so much better. You do so much. I..I am no good.”

I freeze. My heart aches now and I can’t see her face. I can’t tell me. I can’t tell her that she is a lot better than me, that she is the person I look up to and am proud of, but I can’t. I can’t tell her how stupid I am, what a coward I am now and she is so brave. How do I even tell her what I did?

She gets up. I raise my head to see her walking towards the water. I want to stop her, hold her in my arms and tell her…tell her that I did it.

That I killed myself. 

She turns back and waves at me. I shall be back tomorrow, she says. She is happy.

I close my eyes now. The cold breeze touches my face and I know she is gone.

The jackals are howling again. I wonder what is the time now, is it already 2.

I open my eyes to see the ghost near me. Its waiting. I must go now.

I start walking towards it. It stands still and I wonder why it doesn’t say anything. I want it to speak to me, to tell me what to do, but it doesn’t.

We walk back to the house and I am glad that she returned happily today. That I shall meet her again tomorrow. I wonder if she will ever forgive me, once I tell her.

I must not tell her, I decide. But I have to, that was the pact. Or else the ghost would bring me here every day until I do so. It won’t let me go. I want to go. I want to leave and now it seems I need to stay. For her. For me.

I might stay. I might tell the ghost I want to stay.

We have reached the house. 

I stand by the door and call for the ghost; it turns and looks at me. I want to stay, I will stay back, I almost shout. It nods. Then it speaks, “Are you sure? You don’t want to die.”

“No,” I say, “I will live.’

It nods again. And I see a faint smile on it.

Then it begins to disappear. I stood there watching my ghost disappear. I am gone now. My ghost.

I sighed.

It’s almost 3 am now. I hurried inside the house. The mice are silent now. I pull myself into the covers. I will live again now.