Prashan's blog

The horror that followed him up to Malaysia   Too many sleepless nights made Prashan drowsy and felt dizzy. After he had finished his works and made sure that nothing was left. He hurried home to take a nap for a brief period, he often chat with one of his best friend Venkatesh during late night, so he wasted no time going to bed early. This evening offered the rare luxury of sleeping in after working until ten thirty for a couple of weeks   Suffocated in his bedroom as tight and cold as a casket. Prashan wondered bleakly what others would think of his experience. The unnerving sound of swiftly moving spirit still rose from deep in the ground though Prashan quickly realized that it could be coming from anywhere; he had little feeling for where the spirit was taking him. He knew only the harrowing threat that he’d fled.   Damp with fear despite the frigid temperature and the sound grew louder. Closer. He gripped the moist earth, bracing himself for a murderous sound. But for now, it remained only the sound of spirit. A lot of it. Rushing furiously.   A noise rose near his feet. The sound petrified him. It did not come in kindness. Or in rescue. Not to a mind crazed by the worst the earth could offer. No, to Prashan, deep in this dark stranglehold, the predator had come finally to strike. He screamed and jammed. After a frantic, sixty-second retreat that felt more treacherous than a cliff walk, he collapsed, crying and hugging the bed. Come on, I got in, he pleaded with himself. I can get out. All of sudden everything changed. The sound became kinder and even looked familiar to him. There came the sound, “You look so tired, may I have a body massage for you?” His stomach boiled with anxiety, a siege of raw, wretched panic that left him twisting violently—brief, brutal movements that bruised and bloodied him, but gained not a hint of freedom. Only to say, “yes” to the voice of the spirit.   “Oh God, man, what kind of nightmare am I having?” cried Prashan. As soon as he replied to the voice, the spirit slowly started massaging him. Now he felt more solace and enjoying the evening, completely forgot about the spirit. But the spirit did exactly what she wanted. She slowly lied on the back of Prashan, who is facing the chest towards the ground. He woke up and he didn’t have a clue whether spirit was being sincere or sarcastic. He didn’t care. Just shouted to get rid of him.   He thrust the bed as far as he could, dragging himself on one elbow until he spotted a wide flame like spirit so brightly that he startled. He pondered over what had just transpired. Maybe he had just imagined it, hadn’t really seen what he thought he had seen. Perhaps his eyes were playing tricks on him. The only remedy he found is to pray to god. He started chanting “swamyee saranam Ayiappa (The South Indian God)”.   He was sure that the chanting has started disturbing the spirit and it slowly moved away from him and disappeared. He immediately went into a dead run, hoping that whatever he had just seen would not follow him. He ran through the dark until his heart pumped acid into his veins, making the muscles in his thighs, calves and feet burn. He exhaled; his breath hung in the cold air like a rain cloud. Then he ran some more.  He was lucky his instinct guided him through the darkness to the safer room.   Prashan had lived on these rooms for three months. Down on his luck or not, Prashan knew damn well that you have to keep a good head on your shoulders to survive on the devil's room - and whatever the hell it was that he had seen, it seemed real enough to him and he wasn't prone to flights of fancy or seeing things that weren't there.   He remembered all the old rural legends he'd heard over the years, things his grandfather and grandmother had told him when he was a little boy. Those were the worst ones - the one's he'd heard and saw down here wasn't that bad.  And yet this was his home, this was the place he felt safe. They were all closing in on him now - all the things he’d ever had to live with or get over or deal with.  All those things that he’d overcome to get where he was, be by himself, not bothered by anybody, anything, and even the spirits anymore.