That Rainy Night

The sky was overcast with dark clouds. Thunder rumbled now and then with sparks of lightning. Gradually, the soft tapping sound of rain changed to pitter-patter and then to loud drumming. People ran for cover while those who were lucky opened their umbrellas. The puddles began plinking as the rain got heavier. Mihir was carrying an umbrella. Still, the incessant rain had drenched him to his skin. He took shelter under a green wooden structure with a tin roof next to the bus stop. Of the few people who had taken shelter along with him, was a man wearing a raincoat, a woman and her child and a girl of twenty. After a while, not seeing a possibility of the rain stopping, the man glanced at his watch and moved out. Then subsequently, the woman with her child too got into a car that had come for them. Mihir was left alone with the girl. He cast a glance towards her. She was wearing a bright red salwaar which was wet from the rain. She was looking away from him, towards the drizzle. He thought of striking a conversation and said, “It doesn’t seem that the rain will stop anytime soon.” She did not respond. “Where are you headed?” Mihir asked. At this, the girl looked up, smiled faintly and answered, “Mother Teresa Sarani.” In a word, she was captivating. Kohl highlighted her large almond-shaped eyes, set flawlessly on her pale face, which her long black hair partly concealed. Yet, she was frail and was shivering from the cold wind chilling her wet dress. Mihir glanced at his wristwatch. It was half-past ten. By now, the rain had slowed down. He thoughtfully asked the girl, “I see you have no umbrella. So, if it doesn’t bother you, then you may come with me, I am going nearby. I’ll drop you in the way.” She hesitated for some time, stood up and said, “Only if it is no problem to you.” “Yeah, no problem.” Mihir and that girl stepped out of the bus stop. There was little space for both of them under the umbrella. She was walking too close to him. He smelled a faint sweet perfume from her. The raindrops sounded like the tinkling of numerous anklet bells. Mihir thought of breaking the ice and talking to her when she asked said, “So, hi I’m Meghna. And you are?” “Mihir.” They talked and laughed as they passed by so many closed stores, gloomy houses, deserted lanes, few vehicles zooming past them and still fewer people walking on, otherwise the busiest streets of Mullick Bazaar, in this pitch-black night. Mihir was highly elated by walking with this attractive girl in this rain, sharing an umbrella. It seemed like one of those beautiful romantic movies. He pulled her, trying to place his hand on her waist. He peeped towards Meghna. She was quiet and smiling embarrassedly. This intimacy was growing fast. She broke the silence, “Take a right turn shortly. We’ll come to my place.” Mihir looked around. This place was something familiar. Mother Teresa Sarani? Meghna was breathing excitedly and smiling. As they turned right after a while, realization dawned upon Mihir as his eyes caught the gate on top of which was written ‘SOUTH PARK STREET CEMETERY’. Mihir, startled, stopped abruptly. But Meghna, having spotted him, aggressively dragged him toward the cemetery. He had gathered around him a thick, dense fog; he couldn’t see the way forward. However, the supernatural force pulled him forward. He went on and let himself be pulled on his hand by the seizure. All of a sudden, the fog smoothed out and revealed a grave before him. It took a moment for Mihir to get out from the daze and he was petrified by what he saw ahead. He was frozen to death. On the gravestone was inscribed, ‘Meghna Matthews. July 6, 1996 – November 19, 2016’. In front of the gravestone was a large 6 feet deep pit. But it lay bare, and a foul, rotting stench of flesh wafted from it. 19 November 2016? Yes, Mihir could now hit his senses. That fateful night like this when he had killed someone. No, not intentionally. It was an accident. He was high after that late-night party and was racing his car with his friends when suddenly a girl came before him. He tried hard to pull the brakes. But before the very eyes of him, the car skidded, hit the girl and hurled her into the air. All he could see of the girl was that she was wearing a red salwaar before she let out a heart-wrenching scream and then his car’s windshield was covered with blood. Mihir thought of taking her to the hospital, but he feared that she might be dead and from that day, that scene had haunted him. But tonight, that girl had come to seek her vengeance. That girl was no more a human. She was hovering a few inches above the ground. He could see her pale face in full sight now. There was a large gaping hole in her skull, from where an endless amount of blood was still flowing, smearing her face dark red. She swooped to him and said dismally, “Mihir, you could have saved me.” And just then, she let out a blood-curdling malicious laugh and shoved him into the pit.

By Chandrima Ghosh, Burdwan, West Bengal