Purush: The ghost that isn’t! Part 1, Story 8, Episode 16

hello listeners this is sarah again from kahani suno with kabir and sarah podcast today i'm here to present to you another story this is called purush i have always found that somehow whenever we refer to ghost stories the ghost seems to be a woman mostly like this three movie. So I tried to write a story and this is my most recent story. In fact, I'm still writing it wherein the ghost is not a woman but a man and he is the Purush, right? Like this three. So this is the part one of the story. It's titled of Snake Charmers and Snake Harmors. So let's get on with it. As I navigated the treacherous curves of the Eastern Guards, I found myself staring at my own hands. My knuckles were white, gripping the steering wheel as if it were the only thing keeping me anchored to the world. And maybe it was. It's strange, isn't it? How one moment you can be drumming your fingers to a hip-hop beat, totally lost in the music, and the next, a single inch of moment decides if you live or vanish. I looked at that circle of plastic and leather and realized that's all that stood between me and eternity. Left, I live. Right, I disappear. There is an unsettling thought I once read somewhere that for yourself, you are immortal. You will never experience your own death. You will never feel it. Only the people around you will witness your mortality. You never will. Hence, you are immortal. I forced myself to concentrate on the road. The map on my dashboard said that Minmaluru, the village I was heading to, sat 3,000 feet above sea level. I might be halfway, about halfway there perhaps. I had misjudged the journey, forgotten that distance means nothing in the hills. The ghat roads twisted endlessly, looping upward in sharp pin turns, with deep valleys sliding dangerously close to my window. I had always thought of myself as a confident driver. I could navigate the worst of the roads, an expert even. But here, every turn demanded respect and attention. One small mistake, one second too fast, one turn too wide. I could already imagine it. The guardrails giving away, the car breaking free, tumbling silently into the valley below. I checked my phone. No signal. Not that it mattered anyways. There had been a signal most of the way, but the damn thing had not even let out the slightest beep. Even the telemarketer seemed to have given up on me. Just like he had. I looked at it to make sure it was alive and kicking. It stayed back at me with 100% battery and more alive than me even. It was immortal too, it seemed. So, to think that a few decades ago, these devices didn't even exist. Now they rule our lives so completely that our being convulsives and goes off into an unimaginable state of anxiety if we cannot find them for a few minutes, sometimes seconds even. And for the first time, a strange thought crossed my mind. What if I threw the phone out of the window? Thought was very tempting. I gripped it even more tightly. Death was not the only way to disappear anymore these days. Switch off your phone and you're dead to the world. I couldn't bring myself to it. Perhaps one has to be truly crazy to consider that, completely hopeless. I don't know if I was either. No matter how much life had pushed me to the edge, I still held on to that sliver of hope. hope that perhaps my absence would prove my value more than my presence ever could hope that stepping away would make him realize what I mean to him Shaker, my husband this journey, this ridiculous, lonely, winding climb into the mountains felt like my last attempt to take a little bit control on the path my life was taking do I stay? do I leave? do I give in to the pressure? It struck me then that relationships have rules frighteningly similar to driving a car. Stay on course, you survive. Turn the wrong way, you crash. Agree, continue. Disagree, you're done. I told myself to think of happier things, kinder things. But the road refused to let me. And then another thought arrived. What if I didn't correct the wheel? What if the car and I simply vanished into the hills? The idea frightened me Not because I wanted to die But because I realized Part of me no longer cared After all, I was immortal for myself, wasn't I? What did it matter if the car burst into flames? If the fire consumed me and gave me a painful death? Would it hurt more than the pain I already hid in my heart? Tears blurred the road I, who had once loved life fiercely who believed in living it to the fullest was now imagining a quiet death in a forgotten place. Perhaps this is what love gone wrong does to you. It doesn't kill you outright. It hollows you out first, bit by bit, until you no longer care. Not about the world, and most of all, not about yourself. I reminded myself that I had to reach my destination before dusk. If not, there would be no more wondering if the car would drive off the road and kill me. There would be no if. And I didn't want to die, not at this time at least. The sliver of hope needed to be tested. Maybe he will call me, maybe he will come after me. Maybe he will bring me flowers. Maybe he would apologize and maybe he would not have any conditions anymore. Like how it was before, just him and me and unconditional love before everything fell apart, before we got married. I stepped on the accelerator. I told myself I would rather die driving like a confident race car driver than crawl to my death like a slow-moving sloth. That thought made me wonder, were there even sloths in this country? So far, I had seen a few monkeys, a couple of deer, and an impressive bounty of squirrels. As long as there were no big cats lurking around, I told myself I was fine. I knew animals preferred the dark. That thought alone made my foot press harder on the accelerator. I realized something then. I didn't think I minded being engulfed in flames, but being eaten alive by a wild animal? No. That did not seem like a very good way to die. Certainly not the kind of obituary I would like written about me. But then a voice inside my head asked, But you'll be dead. What will you care? You're immortal, right? Would he care? Another voice asked. I hated myself in that moment. Why did all my grand ideas always end in the same place With the thought of what he would think even death seemed like an easier escape I looked up to see the board announcing that I was entering the village limits I had made it. A long red gravelly road led to the village and I followed it. And that was when I saw the house. Standing alone on top of the hill, a gasp escaped my lips. Against the darkening sky, its outline stood sharp and unnatural, almost like a halo. This was going to be my home for three months. It had taken me more than 24 hours to get here. A flight to a distant city, a rented car, more than 10 hours of driving through these cursed hills. Every instinct in my body told me to reverse, turn around, drive back the way I had come. Perhaps if I had not been so exhausted, I would have listened. But the thought of driving downhill in the dark on these dangerous roads, with wild animals roaming hither and thither, looking for dinner, that killed the idea. So I decided to stay the night and leave at the first light. I dragged my suitcase out of the car and was wondering how on earth I would carry the damn thing up the stairs when I saw them. A couple walking towards me. For a moment, I didn't know whether to run or sigh with relief. I chose to stay. There was nowhere to run. I stood in the middle of a thick forest surrounded by tall Chinat trees, the sound of crickets rising into a deafening crescendo. It felt like one of those cruel choices life offers. Run and die, stay and die. Bhago to maro, na bhago to bhi maro. So I did the only sensible thing. I stopped moving and stood rooted to the spot. As the couple came closer, they seemed harmless. Jyoti ma'am? The woman asked hesitantly. The man had already come up and taken the suitcase. I wanted to tell him to leave it there since I was going to drive back the first thing in the morning. Welcome ma'am, he said and headed up before I could say anything. I almost ran into the house after them. I somehow wanted to be inside before night fell. I knew that the first thing I'd do at the crack of dawn would be to drive as far away from this god-forsaken place as possible. The lady, Rangamma, decided to stay the night with me. Her husband, she said, would return first thing in the morning. Food was served on the dining table and I ate ravenously. The light in the house was dim and I was so exhausted that I paid little attention to anything around me. I was told my bed had been made There was hot water in the bathroom That was all I needed to hear I do not remember when I fell asleep But when my eyes opened again I realized it was still early morning The creaking of the crickets had given way to the soft chirping of birds The curtains were drawn But I could sense that dawn had already broken I felt completely refreshed I don't know whether it was sheer exhaustion or if I had simply passed out, but I had not woken even once during the night. A new place, a new bed in the middle of a jungle and I had slept like a baby. I was elated. Things did not seem so bad after all. They usually don't after a good night's sleep or a good meal. The sleeping part was done. The meal part still remained. My stomach growled and the decision I had made the night before still hung heavy in the air. Would I stay here for the next three months as I had planned? Away from civilization, away from him, away from them. Or would I gather my things and what little pride I had left and run? Run back to a life I had been desperate to escape. Run back to the people I had tried so hard to leave. Why? Because a spooky house in a remote jungle had frightened me? Me? Jyoti? The woman who had prided herself on never being afraid? The Jyoti who had trekked alone through remote mountains? The Jyoti who had fearlessly led NGOs fighting for the rights of the downtrodden? Women had thanked her for her battles. Children loved her for her laughter. Men admired her for her fire. And now, what excuse did I have to be a coward? That I was scared of animals that went about their business and I had never crossed my path and most probably never would if I didn't go around seeking them out. I decided I had a perfectly invalid excuse. Lost in these thoughts, I walked to the sliding doors, pulled the curtains aside and stepped out. And what greeted me, I can't quite capture it in words. For a moment I wondered if I had died in my sleep and woken up in heaven. A thin fog floated over everything. A small creek ran beside the house. Vapors hovering over the water, like a frozen lake lined with diamonds. Greenery stretched in every direction. Leaves and stems glistened with early morning dew. Elephant-year plants stood by the windows. Huge droplets of water pooled in the hollows of their leaves. Birds darted through the air Flowers loomed quietly The Chinar and eucalyptus trees towered like slender elegans Stretched upwards to the skies Swaying gently in the wind Everything was coated in a soft silvery grey It was unbelievable And suddenly without warning tears filled my eyes I sat down and began to cry I don't know why I didn't want to stop It felt as if the storm inside me had finally been silenced by the serenity outside. Sometimes the ugliness within us makes us blind to the beauty around us. And sometimes when you finally see something beautiful, after a very long time, your soul remembers all the mess and garbage it has been carrying. And it breaks out as tears that don't stop, hiccups that threaten to choke the life out of you, and your nose flowing with the tears. Quite an orchestra. I rushed back inside and then I saw it, coiled on the table at the head of my bed. A king cobra, its hood flared. This time, not even a gasp came out, only air. I knew it. My instincts had been right. All I had to do was get out of here somehow alive and run for my life. That's when Rangamma entered. She didn't blink. She put her hands over her head, palms of the hands facing each other in a namaste, both to the creature with reverence, staring into the snake's eyes. She seemed the least perturbed, like snakes coming and going out of your bedroom was routine. At that time, I wasn't sure who I was learier of, the cobra or Rangamma. And after what felt like a lifetime, the cobra uncoiled and slowly slithered away. Not outside, it slithered under my bed. My invalid excuse suddenly felt very valid. Rangamma, I whispered, my voice trembling. When is your husband coming? He's here, ma'am. The man appeared in the doorway, his shadows stretching across the floor. Tell him to take my suitcase down. I said backing away from the bed I leaving This house is full of snakes It dangerous It probably haunted Please don say that ma the husband said gently How did that snake get in I demanded It came to bless you, he said. This is a sign. You were led here. Bless me? It's a cobra. One sting and I would be history. If it had wanted to do that, it could have done that easily, ma'am. Snakes don't seek you out to kill you. If the Naag sought you out, it means something else. I didn't want to argue with this crazy couple anymore. I needed to get the heck out of there. It means you have come here for a noble purpose. This is a sign you must not leave. I stared at him and that Rangama said softly, and ma'am, how did you know this house is haunted? We were told not to discuss that with you. Discuss what? I asked. That this house is haunted by a he-ghost. We call him Purush. It wasn't strange anymore. It was completely bonkers. Left, you live. Right, you vanish. I should have turned right. The phone rang as if on cue. I froze. I had completely forgotten about it. I hadn't even checked it since I crashed last night. Funny, I didn't know then that I was stepping into a world that was slowly and quietly pulling me away from everything familiar. I answered, Jyoti? Yes. I thought you were dead. I closed my eyes. Of course, this was how he greeted me. Granted, I had missed messaging him after reaching, but it was not like he was checking on me all the time. Did you like that thought? I asked without thinking. The line went silent. Dead. He had cut the call. I sighed. No matter how many times I told myself to behave like an adult, to stop lashing out with cheap accusations, I never seemed to tire of taking a jab at my dearest husband, like I would never let the opportunity drop and end up ruining the moment. A moment that I had been praying so fervently for, that he would call me and check upon me. But the moment he didn't, it was like I couldn't wait to lash out. I wondered when it would be that I would respond instead of react. Never, said the voice in my head. And he? He never tired of putting me in my place. One wrong move and that was it. I kept hoping he would let something go, just once maybe, not be so harsh, not be so cold. He hadn't always been like this. He used to be warm, gentle, caring. Someone once said, the easiest way to destroy your love story is to marry that love. I was beginning to believe it. A knock on the door. Coffee, Rangamma called. This woman had a talent for appearing exactly when my life felt most unbearable. I took the mug gratefully. Breakfast is ready, ma'am, she said. Just tell me when you want to eat. I'll make fresh eggs for you. Hot water is also ready. I looked up at her and to my embarrassment, my eyes stung again. How long had it been since someone treated me with simple kindness? Yes, she was being paid to do it, but still, in just a few hours, she had managed to save my life, managed to feed me, tugged me into bed and now stood in front of me with coffee and warmth. I hadn't felt in years. I got ready and stepped out to find the table overflowing with breakfast. fresh fruit, toast, a steaming teapot, little bowls of accompaniments. The moment I walked in, I heard Rangamma in the kitchen whisking eggs. As promised, everything was perfect, strangely perfect. She never asked what I wanted. Coffee appeared, hot water appeared, scrambled eggs, tea. It was as if she had me figured out. And for once in my life, someone doing things for me without me planning, organizing, orchestrating felt heavenly. I let myself have that blessing Breakfast tasted unreal Even the water, fresh cold spring water Straight from the source Felt like it had its own soul Rangama's husband howard nearby Only then did I realize I didn't know his name Raju, he said when I asked Raju, I repeated I've packed my things Could you be kind enough to load them into the car I intend to leave as soon as possible I said it firmly Trying not to give him room to start with his nonsense about destiny and noble causes again. Noble cause indeed. It was like a last attempt to set my life on course again. Nothing more, nothing less. Yes, the work was responsible for me coming there. I was contracted to do a feature on the village, its beauty, its people and its coffee plantations. Part of the effort from the tourism wing of the government to drive more people to visit the eastern ghats. I did not care. I was a good photographer and also a good writer and I was looking towards this project more as a getaway. I quoted low and got the job. Three months of work to make sure that by the end of it I could convince people to make a beeline for Minimaluru and the surrounding areas. Well, it didn't matter now. I had been given the option to back off in a week if I wanted to and I was going to use that option in a day. I looked at Raju. He didn't argue. He quietly cleared the place. Then he turned. Madam, you cannot leave today. I knew he wouldn't give it up without a fight. And why not? I asked. What reason would he come up with now? We're expecting bad weather, heavy rain. Driving on these roads will be dangerous. I would suggest you leave after a couple of days. I stared at him. Was he smiling or was my frustration playing tricks on me? No, there was definitely a hint of satisfaction there. Like he had already decided I wasn't going anywhere. Not today, not tomorrow. I looked at the weather report and he was not wrong. Heavy rainfall predicted over the next couple of days. Looks like I was stuck in this quad forcing in place with a strange couple, a king cobra and a ghost for company. What could be better? Well, it did get better. Ma'am, I won't be able to come for the next two days. As you know, we are going to have very bad weather and that means I'd have to stay home. I would love to stay with you, but I have young kids to take care of. Rangamma ended. I just nodded. Though I was nervous that she'd not be around in the night, I was actually a bit relieved that I could valow in my self-pity all alone, making coffee and eggs the way I wanted to. Do you want to take a tour of the house before we leave? Raju asked, interrupting my thoughts. That would be lovely, I said. Anything to get my mind off spending the next two days alone in this Harry Potter-inspired mansion. I got up as he led me through the home. I was very happy to know there was no upstairs except a small attic. We went through the standard rooms, a couple of bedrooms, one bedroom being mine with the attached bath. He showed me how to work the geyser for hot water. Didn't realize the damn thing needed to be switched on an hour before I could even think of taking a shower. Another common and bigger bathroom. It was interesting that the shower and the toilet were in separate rooms. I actually liked the concept that someone would be able to poop in peace without waiting for someone to get out of the shower The living room with a fireplace and a roaring fire He showed me how to work that one too A small TV with a DVD player and DVDs of some classic Hindi and English movies Some of my favorite ones too That would be a relief to watch some Bollywood magic by myself It had been too long since I watched anything of my own choosing on the TV He paused before a room hesitated before going in It was a long narrow room much chillier than other parts of the house much higher ceilings wooden windows open to the outside The room seemed to be done in a completely different way from the rest of the house Like the rest of the house was modernized, but this was left alone. Ornate carvings, chipping wood and a presence that was almost lifelike. That this room had a life, a personality and a story to tell. Why does this room look different from the house? I asked. Again, Raju hesitated, debating again. do I tell her or not? This room is part of the history of the house, ma'am. I'm not sure why, but it has always been like this. No one has tried to do anything about it. What history? This time there was no hesitation. I would not want to tell you, ma'am. Believe me, it's for the best. Raju, I would like to make that decision for myself, please. If I'm going to be living in this house for the next two days, I would like to know everything about it, please. I made sure to stress on the two days so that there was no doubt that I'd be leaving soon. Apparently, there was a death in this room. So what? I'm sure there are many people who die in their homes. Doesn't mean you won't make the bed they lied in, does it? I asked, trying to lighten the atmosphere. He gave me a stare before proceeding with, this was different, he mumbled. How was it different? I persisted. There was a suicide committed in this room. He was right. There was no need for me to know that information. I made a mental note to adhere to his suggestions from the next time onwards. We closed the door behind us and left the room. Also, ma'am, don't be scared if the lights go out, especially with the rain and wind, electricity is an issue here. We have a couple of emergency lights that come on automatically. It keeps getting better, doesn't it? Anything else, ma'am? He asked once we were back to where we started. I scowled at him. I needed to take this man's poker face out. Tell me about this Purush that Rangama was talking about. Don't worry about what she says, ma'am. Half the time she's talking nonsense and half the time she's just imagining things. So should I ask her? Please don't. She will worry you more. Then go ahead. Tell me about Purush. It's nothing but a folklore that is very famous in this path. Many people who have been in this house claim to see him from time to time. I have been the caretaker of the house for more than 30 years and my father used to take care of it before that. And we have never seen this purish that everyone claims is haunting the house. Did Rangama see him? She claims she did, but I have my own doubts. I feel like she imagined him based on the idea she was fed by others. I could totally identify with what he was seeing. Rangama seemed to have built up a world of her own. a world where she made all the decisions and was happy to be in. Maybe it was just a figment of her imagination. I sighed with relief. The rain started early in the afternoon, just a drizzle that seemed to be intensifying. The couple hurriedly left me completely alone in the house. Oh yes, I forgot my faithful companion was with me, the one who seemed reluctant to even let out a beep. I made a beeline for it. It lay in the same place I had thrown it that morning. I picked it up. No notifications. You are all caught up. It seemed to say triumphantly. The rain was coming down in torrents now. The big breakfast made me sleepy. I decided to take a nap. It was dark by the time I got up. I realized there was no coffee that was going to be served for me. Gosh, I had been spoiled in a matter of hours. I knew I had to make it myself. I got up and made a beeline for the kitchen and that's when I saw him. out of the blue, like I had seen the cobra. What was it about this house that made entities appear out of nowhere? Standing in the kitchen as if he owned it, for a moment I thought Raju had returned, but this was a taller man and his hair fell below his shoulders. I was surprised that I did not behave like a screaming banshee at the sight of a strange man in my kitchen. I guess my nervous system was getting trained to take the most fantastic things with a pinch of salt. Hello, I said calmly. He turned and I remembered Phoebe's reaction in France when she first saw Brad Pitt. She looks up, addresses God and gives him a thumbs up whispering, well done. That was my exact reaction. Tall, dark and very handsome. Could not determine his age but he seemed like a mature man. Not too old, maybe in his 40s. He was dressed in what looked like a white kurta and pajama. He turned with a sharp expression on his face. I don't know what came over me, but I blurted out, Purush? He stared at me, eyes widening, breath catching, as if I were the ghost. For a moment, neither of us spoke. He took a few steps back. You can see me? He asked softly. Well, yeah, clear as a day. Am I not supposed to? I said, instantly hating how squeaky I sounded, especially against the depth of his voice. He blinked, almost amused, almost sad. That's unusual. What is unusual? I demanded, suddenly irritated. People seeing you or you breaking into other people's kitchens uninvited? His lips twitched. People don't usually respond to me at all. It felt like he was talking more to himself than to me. What does that even mean? I snapped. Who are you? He straightened, the air around him shifting like a breeze that hadn't existed a second before, whispered through the room. Well, I, he began. The lights flickered violently. No, no, no, please, no. I wondered if there were electricity guards that I could pray to. I didn't even have the time to. The lights went out completely and darkness engulfed us. Where were the damn emergency lights Raju had mentioned about? I saw no light except the faint lightning outside. There in the cabinet, I heard him say. Which one? The large one next to the stove, he said. Sure enough, there they were. Not sure which great mind thought, hey, let's have emergency lights and then hide them in a place where no one could discover them, even when there was light. Thank you, I said with a relief as the lights flickered to life. I was greeted with silence. Purush had disappeared. The phone was ringing. There was a tremendous thunder that shook the living daylights out of me. 24 hours and I had gone from the most mundane existence to living in an ice age with no electricity, no civilization, sharing the home with what looked like the ghost of a suicide victim. A handsome ghost but a ghost nonetheless. A male ghost to boot. Do they even exist? This was truly my first time being introduced to one. Somehow ghosts seem to be depicted as always being female in white saris and here he was in a white kurta pyjama and instead of being scared out of my wits i seem to be enjoying this misadventure so listeners i'll end my part one here i hope you liked it and hopefully i'll be back in a few days with the second part and we can continue and know more about purush and jyoti and what happens so till that time Thank you for listening. I'll see you soon, very soon. Take care. This is Sarah from Kahani Suno with Kabir and Sarah podcast. And remember, all these stories that we are narrating to you are original stories written by either me or Kabir at this point. And hopefully going forward, if anyone wants to join our podcast and narrate their stories or have us narrate their stories with one Kabir that they should be original written by you, then please let us know, sarah at kahanisuno.com or kabir at kahanisuno.com. Thank you, listeners. Have a great day ahead.