A Ghost Story

Thats probably not the most innovative/interesting/attractive title I could have chosen for a post,but I promise you something good if you stick with me.

I don't know why we have to believe in something/someone who doesnot exist or does in another plane of existence when there are millions of births a day and a million things tangible to believe in .I really don't know.But I always have been a big a scaredy cat.For instance,I have never watched a horror movie alone,only with a room full of people and from behind a cushion.I would hide behind a tree if anyone shouts BOO.My fear stems from,not an absolute belief in Them,but the dubious question of a What if? on their existence.Boy do I sound like a loser.Them.Bah.Inspite of my fear for the unknown(in this case,ghosts,phantoms,spirits) I have always loved ghost stories.Though I know I'd probably need an escort to the washroom at night,I threw that to the wind.

During one such story telling session something weird happened.We ( me and my friends) were at another friend' house.We were twelve yearsold at that time and our friend's house is one of those big old colonial houses,few of which are left in South Calcutta.It had large airy windowsthe size of doors,the ceilings were extremely high,and each room was like a miniature ballroom.In short it was magnificent.We were in her room while she was narrating the history of that house,which was about a 100 years old and has been with her family for more or less the same time.We moved on to refreshments for a while and one of us was telling the story of a horror movie she had recently watched.As usual I was sandwiched between two of my friends,voluntarily ofcourse.When the horror movie story ended,talk turnedd to the house again.S,whose house it was,was telling us about the clattering in the attic,a room which looked itself at times and her grandmother.She was mostly brought up her grandma,and her demise a few months ago saddened her.She was saying for days after,she could feel her presence,like she was still there.One of us said that it was common when you lost a loved one.Our friend,S is an asthma patient and had trouble sleeping if a sleeping somebody's hand(or foot :D)landed on her stomach.She usually slept with her grandma,but after a few weeks she was sleeping with her mother.In sleep her mother's hand landed on her mouth and as if on cue soemthing heavy lifted her mother's hand off her face.This awoke her mother,and to be sure she tried to put her hand on S again,but something impeded the movement of her arm.At the end of this story,we sat astounded in a circle,when a loud Hmm reverberated through the room.It wasn't one of us.It

seemed the Hmm was meant to sound like "Yes,I know you are talking about me".And we fled the room screaming.

As if this wasn't enough.Another day we met at another friend's house and a few adventorous ones amongst us wanted to do a planchet.None of us were even sure how to do it,though everybody was interested,even me.All we knew that we had to concentrate and the spirit would communicate through a medium.Before P could say anything,we decided to call on her grandfather.Everyone sushed her.They thought that she was scared,and consoled her by saying that people who love us continue to do so even if they are not with us.Suddenly one of us

was speaking in a deep voice,not her own and her eyes seemed to be rolling back.She simply said"I miss my grand daughter",yet it scared the undigested roughage out of us.The good thing,however was it was over in a few minutes.We were breathless,perspiring,shaking and totally speechless.That was when P sputtered "but...bbbut my grandpa is alive!"

The medium was then buried under heavy blows from anything that could be found nearby!