What Uncle Saw

Scary Books: Indian Ghost Stories
: S. Mukerji

This story need not have been written. It is too sad and too mysterious,

but since reference has been made to it in this book, it is only right

that readers should know this sad account.







Uncle was a very strong and powerful man and used to boast a good deal

of his strength. He was employed in a Government Office in Calcutta. He

used to come to his village home during the holidays. He w s a widower

with one or two children, who stayed with his brother's family in the

village.



Uncle has had no bed-room of his own since his wife's death. Whenever he

paid us a visit one of us used to place his bed-room at uncle's

disposal. It is a custom in Bengal to sleep with one's wife and children

in the same bed-room. So whenever Uncle turned up I used to give my

bed-room to him as I was the only person without children. On such

occasions I slept in one of the "Baithaks" (drawing-rooms). A Baithak is

a drawing-room and guest-room combined.



In rich Bengal families of the orthodox style the "Baithak" or "Baithak

khana" is a very large room generally devoid of all furniture, having a

thick rich carpet on the floor with a clean sheet upon it and big

_takias_ (pillows) all around the wall. The elderly people would sit on

the ground and lean against the _takias_; while we, the younger lot, sat

upon the takias and leaned against the wall which in the case of the

particular room in our house was covered with some kind of yellow paint

which did not come off on the clothes.



Sometimes a _takia_ would burst and the cotton stuffing inside would

come out; and then the old servant (his status is that of an English

butler, his duty to prepare the hookah for the master) would give us a

chase with a _lathi_ (stick) and the offender would run away, and not

return until all incriminating evidence had been removed and the old

servant's wrath had subsided.



Well, when Uncle used to come I slept in the "Baithak" and my wife slept

somewhere in the zenana, I never inquired where.



On this particular occasion Uncle missed the train by which he usually

came. It was the month of October and he should have arrived at 8 P.M.

My bed had been made in the Baithak. But the 8 P.M. train came and

stopped and passed on and Uncle did not turn up.



So we thought he had been detained for the night. It was the Durgapooja

season and some presents for the children at home had to be purchased

and, we thought, that was what was detaining him. And so at about 10

P.M. we all retired to bed. The bed that had been made for me in the

"Baithak" remained there for Uncle in case he turned up by the 11 P.M.

train. As a matter of fact we did not expect him till the next morning.



But as misfortune would have it Uncle did arrive by the 11 o'clock

train.



All the house-hold had retired, and though the old servant suggested

that I should be waked up, Uncle would not hear of it. He would sleep in

the bed originally made for me, he said.



The bed was in the central Baithak or hall. My Uncle was very fond of

sleeping in side-rooms. I do not know why. Anyhow he ordered the servant

to remove his bed to one of the side-rooms. Accordingly the bed was

taken to one of them. One side of that room had two windows opening on

the garden. The garden was more a park-like place, rather neglected, but

still well wooded abounding in jack fruit trees. It used to be quite

shady and dark during the day there. On this particular night it must

have been very dark. I do not remember now whether there was a moon or

not.



Well, Uncle went to sleep and so did the servants. It was about 8

o'clock the next morning, when we thought that Uncle had slept long

enough, that we went to wake him up.



The door connecting the side-room with the main Baithak was closed, but

not bolted from inside; so we pushed the door open and went in.



Uncle lay in bed panting. He stared at us with eyes that saw but did not

perceive. We at once knew that something was wrong. On touching his body

we found that he had high fever. We opened the windows, and it was then

that Uncle spoke "Don't open or it would come in--"



"What would come in Uncle--what?" we asked.



But uncle had fainted.



The doctor was called in. He arrived at about ten in the morning. He

said it was high fever--due to what he could not say. All the same he

prescribed a medicine.



The medicine had the effect of reducing the temperature, and at about 6

in the evening consciousness returned. Still he was in a very weak

condition. Some medicine was given to induce sleep and he passed the

night well. We nursed him by turns at night. The next morning we had all

the satisfaction of seeing him all right. He walked from the bed-room,

though still very weak and came to the Central Baithak where he had tea

with us. It was then that we asked what he had seen and what he had

meant by "It would come in."



Oh how we wish, we had never asked him the question, at least then.



This was what he said:--



"After I had gone to bed I found that there were a few mosquitoes and so

I could not sleep well. It was about midnight when they gradually

disappeared and then I began to fall asleep. But just as I was dozing

off I heard somebody strike the bars of the windows thrice. It was like

three distinct strokes with a cane on the gratings outside. 'Who is

there?' I asked; but no reply. The striking stopped. Again I closed my

eyes and again the same strokes were repeated. This time I nearly lost

my temper; I thought it was some urchin of the neighbourhood in a

mischievous mood. 'Who is there?' I again shouted--again no reply. The

striking however stopped. But after a time it commenced afresh. This

time I lost my temper completely and opened the window, determined to

thrash anybody whom I found there--forgetting that the windows were

barred and fully 6 feet above the ground. Well in the darkness I saw, I

saw--."



Here uncle had a fit of shivering and panting, and within a minute he

lost all consciousness. The fever was again high. The doctor was

summoned but this time his medicines did no good. Uncle never regained

consciousness. In fact after 24 hours he died of heart failure the next

morning, leaving his story unfinished and without in any way giving us

an idea of what that terrible thing was which he had seen beyond the

window. The whole thing remains a deep mystery and unfortunately the

mystery will never be solved.



Nobody has ventured to pass a night in the side-room since then. If I

had not been a married man with a very young wife I might have tried.



One thing however remains and it is this that though uncle got all the

fright in the world in that room, he neither came out of that room nor

called for help.



One cry for help and the whole house-hold would have been awake. In fact

there was a servant within 30 yards of the window which uncle had

opened; and this man says he heard uncle open the window and close and

bolt it again, though he had not heard uncle's shouts of "Who is there?"



Only this morning I read this funny advertisement in the Morning Post.



"_Haunted Houses._--Man and wife, cultured and travelled, gentle

people--having lost fortune ready to act as care-takers and to

investigate in view of removing trouble--."



Well--in a haunted house these gentle people expect to see something.

Let us hope they will not see what our Uncle saw or what the Major saw.



This advertisement clearly shows that even in countries like England

haunted houses do exist, or at least houses exist which are believed to

be haunted.



If what we see really depends on what we think or what we believe, no

wonder that there are so many more haunted houses in India than in

England. This reminds me of a very old incident of my early school days.

A boy was really caught by a Ghost and then there was trouble. We shall

not forget the thrashing we received from our teacher in the school; and

the fellow who was actually caught by the Ghost--if Ghost it was, will

never say in future that Ghosts don't exist.



In this connection it may not be out of place to narrate another

incident, though it does not fall within the same category with the main

story that heads this chapter. The only reason why I do so is that the

facts tally in one respect, though in one respect only, and that is that

the person who knew would tell nothing.



This was a friend of mine who was a widower. We were in the same office

together and he occupied a chair and a table next but one to mine. This

gentleman was in our office for only six months after narrating the

story. If he had stayed longer we might have got out his secret, but

unfortunately he went away; he has gone so far from us that probably we

shall not meet again for the next 10 years.



It was in connection with the "Smith's dead wife's photograph"

controversy that one day one of my fellow clerks told me that a visit

from a dead wife was nothing very wonderful, as our friend Haralal could

testify.



I always took of a lot of interest in ghosts and their stories. So I was

generally at Haralal's desk cross-examining him about this affair; at

first the gentleman was very uncommunicative but when he saw I would

give him no rest he made a statement which I have every reason to

believe is true. This is more or less what he says.



"It was about ten years ago that I joined this office. I have been a

widower ever since I left college--in fact I married the daughter of a

neighbour when I was at college and she died about 3 years afterwards,

when I was just thinking of beginning life in right earnest. She has

been dead these 10 years and I shall never marry again, (a young widower

in good circumstances, in Bengal, is as rare as a blue rose).



"I have a suite of bachelor rooms in Calcutta, but I go to my suburban

home on every Saturday afternoon and stay there till Monday morning,

that is, I pass my Saturday night and the whole of Sunday in my village

home every week.



"On this particular occasion nearly eight years ago, that is, about a

year and a half after the death of my young wife I went home by an

evening train. There is any number of trains in the evening and there is

no certainty by which train I go, so if I am late, generally everybody

goes to bed with the exception of my mother.



"On this particular night I reached home rather late. It was the month

of September and there had been a heavy shower in the town and all

tram-car services had been suspended.



"When I reached the Railway Station I found that the trains were not

running to time either. I was given to understand that a tree had been

blown down against the telegraph wire, and so the signals were not going

through; and as it was rather dark the trains were only running on the

report of _a motor trolly_ that the line was clear. Thus I reached home

at about eleven instead of eight in the evening.



"I found my father also sitting up for me though he had had his dinner.

He wanted to learn the particulars of the storm at Calcutta.



"Within ten minutes of my arrival he went to bed and within an hour I

finished my dinner and retired for the night.



"It was rather stuffy and the bed was damp as I was perspiring freely;

and consequently I was not feeling inclined to sleep.



"A little after midnight I felt that there was somebody else in the

room.



"I looked at the closed door--yes there was no mistake about it, it was

my wife, my wife who had been dead these eighteen months.



"At first I was--well you can guess my feeling--then she spoke:



"'There is a cool bed-mat under the bedstead; it is rather dusty, but it

will make you comfortable.



"I got up and looked under the bedstead--yes the cool bed-mat was there

right enough and it was dusty too. I took it outside and I cleaned it by

giving it a few jerks. Yes, I had to pass through the door at which she

was standing within six inches of her,--don't put any questions; Let me

tell you as much as I like; you will get nothing out of me if you

interrupt--yes, I passed a comfortable night. She was in that room for a

long time, telling me lots of things. The next morning my mother

enquired with whom I was talking and I told her a lie. I said I was

reading my novel aloud. They all know it at home now. She comes and

passes two nights with me in the week when I am at home. She does not

come to Calcutta. She talks about various matters and she is

happy--don't ask me how I know that. I shall not tell you whether I have

touched her body because that will give rise to further questions.



"Everybody at home has seen her, and they all know what I have told you,

but nobody has spoken to her. They all respect and love her--nobody is

afraid. In fact she never comes except on Saturday and Sunday evenings

and that when I am at home."



No amount of cross-examination, coaxing or inducement made my friend

Haralal say anything further.



This story in itself would not probably have been believed; but after

the incident of "His dead wife's picture" nobody disbelieved it, and

there is no reason why anybody should. Haralal is not a man who would

tell yarns, and then I have made enquiries at Haralal's village where

several persons know this much; that his dead wife pays him a visit

twice every week.



Now that Haralal is 500 miles from his village home I do not know how

things stand; but I am told that this story reached the ears of the

_Bara Saheb_ and he asked Haralal if he would object to a transfer and

Haralal told him that he would not.



I shall leave the reader to draw his own conclusions.