If you scuff your memories on my older posts, you may reach my ancestral village Edamon once again. You may meet up our old maid named Panikkathi as well.

Panikkathi used to tell us stories of ghosts and fiends. Today I thrust them aside as superstitions and falsehood, though once I lived in the tip of fear listening to her stories. This is one such story of a ghost, whom Panikkathi had encountered during her creditable journeys into the woods.

There was this mountainous woods lying close to my ancestral house, beside the meter gauge railway track that separated the house and connected the Punalur to Sengottai. The woods had given the entire village a dusky overlay. With sky-high trees filled the land, light hardly entered into the woods. Shadows rarely escorted the bodies as darkness ruled the days than light. Life was numb and emotions were stuck in the womb of fear. Every moment there asked for courage.

Panikkathi used to go to the woods alone. With a sickle fixed tightly on to her waist cloth, she would walk into and fade out in the darkness, singing songs for a favorable setting. The dead and grounded leaves would grumble her steps with craggy noises but she wouldn’t bother. Trees would stand still, watching her passing them one by one.

One day, it was late when Panikkathi set out to the woods. The Sun was at the end of its trail and darkness spread sooner than usual.

Panikkathi made her moves quicker. The earlier she could cut the grass, the earlier she could return to her home. She went past the silent woods and cribbing crickets. Owls looked down at her audacity. She kept on walking as she could not find grass enough to cut. At the end she had reached the peak of the mountain. She found lots and lots of grass to cut.

As it was the topmost place, the land looked brighter. As Panikkathi bent to cut the grass, she heard the clanging noise of bangles. She looked around. To her surprise, she found a young girl sitting a few meters away from her. Facing the Sun setting, she was sitting on a rock bed. Clothed in red, she looked blood-stained, and her luxurious hair had flowed down her back. Panikkathi was not sure of approaching her. From behind, Panikkathi made her wavering steps towards the lonely girl. In a hand’s distance, she stopped. Tenderly she asked, “Dear girl, what are you doing here alone?”

The girl looked back at her. The very moment, the hair that covered her back had moved to her side, and what was seen was horrible. She had no skin at the back!! Her bones were visible similar to viewing a skeleton. She had no eyes. Two dark holes were left.

Tenderly she replied to Panikkathi, “Go home... This is not a good place to stay"

Panikkathi did not think twive. She ran back! She ran down the valley like a horse running away from hounds. Somehow she reached home. She was said to be unwell for a week or more. Later she shared her experience with others.

“Could be an unlucky girl cheated by some men…. Thank God, she spared me!!” she was telling me.
Love or fear, from then, she started lighting a special lamp for the young girl's sake.

Kerala is a great place. But I must say that this greatness is only in its looks and not in its contemporary mores. As days grow, the people in Kerala are becoming more and more insane and insolent. They will just meddle into and screw your glitter of life. When people have no job except some smutty dissolute politics, you can’t expect any good instincts from them other than fraudulence and criminality. Luck or not, the world is yet more or less unknown about these dissolutions.

As a Keralite, I have inexplicable disappointment in this heavy truth. But truth is always bitter, I grasp.

One of my recent experiences had matched this gloomy fact and affirmed it without qualms.

I had gone to Kerala during last Easter. It was a nice time out as the stress of jobs and strain of ‘daily living’ had surrendered to a kind of enticing calmness. With my brother and two other friends I went to the nearest town, Punalur, for a movie. We were in bikes and had to park the bikes in a shed nearby the theatre. The shed was the part of a tourist bungalow lying close to it.

Once the movie got over we came back to the bikes but what we could find was awfully nasty that the bikes’ tyres were punctured, mirrors broken and fuel dripped out. Being furious, we had no other way but to question the guard in duty of the Bungalow. He was heavily drunk and was in a bad mood. When he denied answering we could estimate that none other than him did the crime. Being a Law Student and furthermore branded for being very instinctive, my brother had created a scene over there. He pointed out the nifty sections of the law like a priest reciting the preludes of verses!

Finally the man told us that the police had done those misdemeanors because it was non-parking area. He also claimed to have paid five hundred bucks to the police for the carelessness from his side.

My brother was at the end of his patience. He slapped the guard on the spot, as it was clear that he was lying.

By this time, somebody had called the police. ‘Drunkards attacking a guard’, police rushed in with necessary set up to offer all of us a night’s stay in the lockup.

Seeing police coming, the guard got charged up! Vengeful in mind, the over-smart guard took hold of my collar and tried to hit me with his knees. Caught on the spot for this misbehavior, the guard too was taken to the police custody.

From then till reaching the police station, it was a rain of all bad words in the language, a special talent that our policemen can boast of!

“Lock up! Oh my god, this is the first time I’m coming to a police station! That too, like a criminal! Beaten up and abused! My little brother, my friends, my pride, my self-respect , I am going to see all this agony?” I never wanted to argue with that foolish guard, I never wanted to question my bike’s damages, I never wanted to park my bike there, I never wanted to come for that movie... but no use now!

The policemen asked us to remove our shirts and shoes. My brother, who couldn’t digest what was really going on, opened his lawful mouth yet again, but to get beaten up again. My self-belief couldn’t prevent the brook of tears from flowing alongside the cheeks and falling down like a tap kept open. I cried in heart like a child.

From here, the things were not very awful as we expected. All of us were taken to the hospital for medical tests to find out whether drunk or not and this had saved us! It was found that we were normal but the guard, who too was taken for the tests, was drunk extremely.

Later we told the police that the guard had accused the police of doing the crime of damaging the bikes. Hearing this, the police rage has amplified against him and he got further charges.

See! Someone just intrudes into your life, makes it unhappiest and then gets himself in peril!

By this time, our poor dad had arrived there, with all his nerves arrested like frozen. He was neither angry nor sad. He had no emotions.

Because he wanted his sons to be conscientious and proactive always, though he never wanted to meet them in a police station in such a condition!

We lied to him that they didn’t beat us!