The Good Spirit

January 22, year 2001, I had gone to meet my client, the "Yuvray", prince of an erstwhile Princly state in India. I had to clear the pending bills of a heritage hotel interior project, I had completed.
The Yuvraj ordered his attendant to put me up at the adjoining guest room, since pending work had to be completed the next morning.The attendant instead, took me to the new Heritage Hotel, since the guest rooms section had an electrical fault.

The Hotel, a small palace, was in the midst of a two square kilometre garden, couple of kilometres away from the palace. I occupied the Royal suite.

The room had a bath with a sink, tub and even the water closet all made from imported glass. The tiles on the dado too were of imported mirror. In short, the place was truly Royale.

The only other human on the entire campus was an eighty five year old puggy (care taker), who stayed in a small cabin next to the entrance, a half kilometre away from my Room.

I decided to make the most of the Royal facility. After a bath, I jumped into the bed, bouncing gently on the Royal bed. And almost instantly fell asleep.

I felt someone waking me up, tapping on the shoulder thrice. Opening my eyes, I saw the bathroom lights on. I swayed to the bath and switched it off. I looked at my pager; it was 2:27 am. It may have taken maybe ten minutes before I dozed off again.

Again, I felt the gentle three taps on my shoulder. I woke up to find the bathroom lights on. This time I was more awake, and walked to the bath. On reaching the doorsill, I realised that I had enacted this once before in the night. The pager showed 5:40 am.

This time I was nervy, and decided to switch on all the lights in the room. Feeling edgy, I walked out into the courtyard, thinking it would be safer outside. The courtyard too looked a little uncanny. I stepped outside the palatial hotel, the wooden gate creaking.

To my relief I spotted the old puggy warming his hands on a small fire.

I walked up to him and he greeted me, in a husky voice.

“You do wake up early, sir?”

I really did not know what to answer him; I did not wish to disclose my status, so I just smiled. The event had me all stressed, and I walked towards a nearby bush to wet it. Just then, the puggy, called.

“Hello Sir, not there, you may go this side” pointing to another bush on the opposite side. I quickly turned around and relieved myself behind the bush.

“Why did you ask me not to go on this trail?”

“This is the path, the Pir (a holy spirit), takes on his way back to his grave, on the edge of the palace campus “

“He is a very good spirit” he added.

“Oh!” I exclaimed.

“Yes” said the old man, “the good spirit does not even allow bad dreams disturb the guests at night here”.

“And how does he do that?”

The old man answered me, and, since then I have never visited that place again.

 

Night with the cats

One afternoon, on a cold wintery day in December 2003 my camping comrade, Bapu rang up asking me if I would join him for a camp. He told me that a lion family had taken refuge in the jambu talav, a dense forest cover of Indian Blackberry trees in the middle of the forest around Girnar, the highest mountain in the Gir Asiatic Lion sanctuary, in India.

He suggested we would spend a night among these cats in their new abode.

That night we called up half a dozen friends inviting them to night with the cats.

Initially their voices could not hide their anxiety, but within a few hours every one called back saying they all had weird commitments on that day and could not possibly make it. Most added their best wishes for the camp.

We decided to go through it all by ourselves, a little taken aback though.

As a last minute effort we put up handmade posters at a gift shop and at a cyber café whose proprietors were known to us.

The poster read Night with the Cats. Call 9825274364

Two hours before departure, a lady doctor called up.

“Sir, I have seen your poster and would like some details”

“What would you mean by the cats”

Lions, I told her, quite curtly in anticipation of her response.

To our surprise she and her husband were at our place within an hour.

Just as we were leaving we got another call from a retired bank manager, asking for details. He confessed that he had no more liabilities to fulfill; and was prepared for the worst. We appreciated his sense of humor, and picked him up on our way to the forest.

Two hours later the five of us cramped in my Suzuki 800, reached the camping site.

We accepted the bank manager’s suggestion that we camp away from the trees, to avoid an ambush from the top.

While three of us put up the tents, others fetched some wood to make fire. Soon the darkness crept on us. After sharing a few jokes and adventure stories, we finally fell soundless, frequently making a left or a right squint in expectation.

At two in the morning we supposed the pride was not interested in visiting us and slithered into the tents.

Sounds from the jungle kept us awake until around 3 am, when we heard heavy footsteps of something patrolling our tents. Permit me not to describe our condition at the moment.

The torment continued for what seemed a lifetime. Realizing the sound of footsteps was coming from just outside our tent we spilled out of our tents with a flash light.

The startled panther stood still for a moment just a couple of feet from us, before taking to the forest.

The next few hours we spent in utter silence and were finally relieved when birds started chirping, announcing the arrival of the twilight. Bird calls were so dear to us at that moment.

Moral of the story, do not ever dare spend a night in the midst of the wild cat territory, not even amongst deer.