You see, graveyards are not the ideal place for hangouts, especially if you are 17, and it's around 9:30 at night. So when Pratik actually challenged me to hang around with him for like half an hour inside the Muslim graveyard near Ultodanga, I really wasn't excited, especially since I don't believe in ghosts, but am shit scared of them. Generally I'd have turned down the offer, but today had been a bad day, what with that terrible mathematics paper, I had to lighten up a bit. So I agreed with the challenge.
Now, if by graveyard you think some super creepy place, you are right. It is, if you let the creepiness seep in that is. We walked around a bit on the pitch road, orange shadows and lights showering around, the innumerous graves lining the road. Now this is a pretty old graveyard, as I observed some graves to date back around the time of indipendence. Most of the headstones had urdu scribblings, and ocassional 'Maya I Love You's.
Pratik: Ki bhai rastae rastae ghurchhis? Let's go and sit somewhere?
Me: Sit? Are you sure? Ekhane kothao bosha allowed naki?
Pratik: Ami ki jani? Amra to regular maal khai ekhane eshe. Cho toke jaygata dekhai.
Me: err, okay. Su.. Sure.
Pratik: Cho na. Bhoy khachhis keno?
Me: Ke bhoy khachhe? Cho tui.
And so we shifted our path from the main road, and travelled through an airy labyrinth of graves, and left the bright side of the world, to enter a more shadowy version. Now, this might be a great place for junkies, but I so totally do not belong here. I don't. The neon lights didn't reach this place of the earth, just an orange hue surrounding everything. Must be smog. And then there are the shadowy trees. Not your weepy willows from the London scene and the greater Psychedelic truth of Pink Floyd, but the banyan trees, which are creepy enough to make you shit in your undies. And there were the graves. White, tiled, broken, and they smelt of soil. Pratik sat down on one of the graves. I stood, confused whether to rest my fat ass on the last remains of some one who 'has been, but not anymore'. Finally I decided to push aside the cordiality with the dead, and sat down on another grave. There lay the remains of some Karim Abdullah, or something like that. "Sorry Karim chacha. Hope I ain't disturbing you much." I started to converse, to push aside the eery feeling I was experiencing on the back of my neck.
Now, Pratik is a really nice guy. He knows studies and books are not for him, it's just the guitar and the stage, that is his world. And, though knowing very well he won't fare pretty well in the H.S. he keeps on trying and trying hard to make his peace with academics. And I respect him for that fact. He's also a very experienced drinker, and he knows weird places all around North Calcutta, just like where we were resting now. If it wasn't him, I wouldn't have actually dared to come at this place, at any time of a given day. We chatted about life, music, girls, and condoms. Meanwhile, I saw my cellphone vibrating. Anwesha, and she was asking where I was. I let her know my coordinates, and she kinda freaked out and asked me to get out of that place.
But after a while, when the initial terror passes, this place is actually a cool place to be, y'know. Cool, breezy. On one side, over the low wall, a vast meadow was lying, empty, bereft of any greenness, just brown and yellow. And in the not so far away, the lights of the Police quarters, and Ultodanga buildings could be seen. It was a clear no man's land, no one was supposed to be there, at this time. No one was actually. But here, it was bustling with life, in this shadowy marsh land.
But it was getting late, it was almost 10 now.
Pratik: Chol sala uthi ebar.
Me: So I win? Yay! Cho ebar uthi.
And we entered back into the world of light. This, was more comfortable. And then we realised-
Pratik: Ei maal! Tor chhayata koi? Where hell is your shadow?
Me: Where it's suppossed to be, dude. Right behind me, following me.
Pratik: Naa re! Tor kono chhaya porchhe na re, Maakkalir dibbi!
I freaked out, and turned around. And there was no shadow. Nothing. I was standin, on the middle of a clearly lit road, and there, there wasn't any shadow, of me. It was almost like I was half me. The other half, the shadowy part, disappeared.
Me: Crap! Eta ki? Eta ki bhabe? Eta ki kore holo?
Pratik: Bhai, ami to kichhu bujchhi na. Amar to dibbi chhayata porchhe.
I saw that. Two boys were standing on the middle of the road. But there was only one shadow. And then it clicked to me. I'd left my shadow behind. And I had to get that back.
I ran towards the place where we were sitting, a few minutes back. I ran, I ran. I ran through the graves, through the fallen leaves. Through the dead.
I went back to that place. And I saw shadows sitting. One, two, three, maybe a few more. I couldn't differ them. Shadows sitting around, huddling, maybe waiting for a few more shadows to join them. Crap! Which one was my shadow? I saw a fat looking shadow, at a little distance from the rest. He had this orange hue around him, must have from the orange shirt I was wearing. That had to be me.
So I went up to him, held him by the hand, and dragged him back to below the orange lights.
Me: Now you be a good boy, and stick back inside me. Or else I'll whoop your shadowy ass.
The shadow just nodded. I saw Pratik at a distance. I went up to him.
Pratik: Peli? Kothay chhilo?
Me: Oi okhantay bhul kore fele esechhilam. Majhemodhhey bhul hoye jay. Choh, ar bhalo lagchhe na.
....And the two figures left, with their respective shadows, not caring to notice the dimming of the orange lights. It was closing time, it was the time of the shadows....
Graveyards are spooky place for hanging out. Believe me. I've experienced it today O.o
Now, if by graveyard you think some super creepy place, you are right. It is, if you let the creepiness seep in that is. We walked around a bit on the pitch road, orange shadows and lights showering around, the innumerous graves lining the road. Now this is a pretty old graveyard, as I observed some graves to date back around the time of indipendence. Most of the headstones had urdu scribblings, and ocassional 'Maya I Love You's.
Pratik: Ki bhai rastae rastae ghurchhis? Let's go and sit somewhere?
Me: Sit? Are you sure? Ekhane kothao bosha allowed naki?
Pratik: Ami ki jani? Amra to regular maal khai ekhane eshe. Cho toke jaygata dekhai.
Me: err, okay. Su.. Sure.
Pratik: Cho na. Bhoy khachhis keno?
Me: Ke bhoy khachhe? Cho tui.
And so we shifted our path from the main road, and travelled through an airy labyrinth of graves, and left the bright side of the world, to enter a more shadowy version. Now, this might be a great place for junkies, but I so totally do not belong here. I don't. The neon lights didn't reach this place of the earth, just an orange hue surrounding everything. Must be smog. And then there are the shadowy trees. Not your weepy willows from the London scene and the greater Psychedelic truth of Pink Floyd, but the banyan trees, which are creepy enough to make you shit in your undies. And there were the graves. White, tiled, broken, and they smelt of soil. Pratik sat down on one of the graves. I stood, confused whether to rest my fat ass on the last remains of some one who 'has been, but not anymore'. Finally I decided to push aside the cordiality with the dead, and sat down on another grave. There lay the remains of some Karim Abdullah, or something like that. "Sorry Karim chacha. Hope I ain't disturbing you much." I started to converse, to push aside the eery feeling I was experiencing on the back of my neck.
Now, Pratik is a really nice guy. He knows studies and books are not for him, it's just the guitar and the stage, that is his world. And, though knowing very well he won't fare pretty well in the H.S. he keeps on trying and trying hard to make his peace with academics. And I respect him for that fact. He's also a very experienced drinker, and he knows weird places all around North Calcutta, just like where we were resting now. If it wasn't him, I wouldn't have actually dared to come at this place, at any time of a given day. We chatted about life, music, girls, and condoms. Meanwhile, I saw my cellphone vibrating. Anwesha, and she was asking where I was. I let her know my coordinates, and she kinda freaked out and asked me to get out of that place.
But after a while, when the initial terror passes, this place is actually a cool place to be, y'know. Cool, breezy. On one side, over the low wall, a vast meadow was lying, empty, bereft of any greenness, just brown and yellow. And in the not so far away, the lights of the Police quarters, and Ultodanga buildings could be seen. It was a clear no man's land, no one was supposed to be there, at this time. No one was actually. But here, it was bustling with life, in this shadowy marsh land.
But it was getting late, it was almost 10 now.
Pratik: Chol sala uthi ebar.
Me: So I win? Yay! Cho ebar uthi.
And we entered back into the world of light. This, was more comfortable. And then we realised-
Pratik: Ei maal! Tor chhayata koi? Where hell is your shadow?
Me: Where it's suppossed to be, dude. Right behind me, following me.
Pratik: Naa re! Tor kono chhaya porchhe na re, Maakkalir dibbi!
I freaked out, and turned around. And there was no shadow. Nothing. I was standin, on the middle of a clearly lit road, and there, there wasn't any shadow, of me. It was almost like I was half me. The other half, the shadowy part, disappeared.
Me: Crap! Eta ki? Eta ki bhabe? Eta ki kore holo?
Pratik: Bhai, ami to kichhu bujchhi na. Amar to dibbi chhayata porchhe.
I saw that. Two boys were standing on the middle of the road. But there was only one shadow. And then it clicked to me. I'd left my shadow behind. And I had to get that back.
I ran towards the place where we were sitting, a few minutes back. I ran, I ran. I ran through the graves, through the fallen leaves. Through the dead.
I went back to that place. And I saw shadows sitting. One, two, three, maybe a few more. I couldn't differ them. Shadows sitting around, huddling, maybe waiting for a few more shadows to join them. Crap! Which one was my shadow? I saw a fat looking shadow, at a little distance from the rest. He had this orange hue around him, must have from the orange shirt I was wearing. That had to be me.
So I went up to him, held him by the hand, and dragged him back to below the orange lights.
Me: Now you be a good boy, and stick back inside me. Or else I'll whoop your shadowy ass.
The shadow just nodded. I saw Pratik at a distance. I went up to him.
Pratik: Peli? Kothay chhilo?
Me: Oi okhantay bhul kore fele esechhilam. Majhemodhhey bhul hoye jay. Choh, ar bhalo lagchhe na.
....And the two figures left, with their respective shadows, not caring to notice the dimming of the orange lights. It was closing time, it was the time of the shadows....
Graveyards are spooky place for hanging out. Believe me. I've experienced it today O.o
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