Desi Horror Stories

Ancestral

Nikunj was twelve when he visited his ancestral village for the first time with his parents. He had always heard of Govardhan Bungalow, the large ten-room bungalow that his grandfather owned in the village, but when he saw it the first time, his jaw fell open. He had seen such houses only in the movies before. Though the house needed a new coat of paint, its sheer size made Nikunj gasp.

Over the days, he found out that his grandfather was really as famous as his father had told him. The locals often came to the house to his Dadaji, asking for various favors, and Dadaji never refused them. Wherever Nikunj went in the village, there were always people who knew him and they greeted him politely. Nikunj loved the importance that came his way on his Dadaji's account and wished that he'd never have to go back to his little apartment home in the city.

However, one night that changed drastically. And then Nikunj did not want to stay a moment longer in his ancestral village.

It was the evening on the twelfth day of the visit. He had been in the maidan playing with new friends, and as dusk had set in, he said goodbye to the other boys and started walking homeward. The path was off the main road and was simply paved with rocks. On either side, there were cottages and bungalows, none of them as large as his Dadaji's. Each house had a row of hedges in front of them. The hedges made it difficult to directly see the houses, not that Nikunj particularly wanted to see any of them.

With his hands in his pockets, Nikunj walked on, thinking of the dinner that awaited him. He had a song on his lips. Suddenly, he heard whispers behind him and stopped. He turned to look and saw a man and a woman. They looked old to him, older than his parents but younger than his grandparents. The man was dark and had a white stubble. The woman had a few gray hairs as well, which she had tied in a tight bun. They were dressed in the kind of clothes that Nikunj had seen on poor farm folk.

"Aren't you Pradhan sahib's grandson?" the man asked. The woman held a welcoming smile on her face.

Nikunj nodded and turned to walk away.

"I told you so, didn't I?" the man told the woman. "You must know us. I am Sarvaiyya and this is my wife Ansuya. We have been living here for ages. We are old servants of your grandfather and he has allowed us to live here."

"Okay..." Nikunj said and walked a few steps.

"Won't you wait?" the woman said. "Just two minutes. You are such a handsome boy. Let us see you for a minute. You do really look like your father when he was younger."

Nikunj felt cold all of a sudden. There was something amiss with the entire episode. And then he saw it. The irises of the two people were not moving. Even when they talked or gestured, those jet-black irises stayed put in their place. It was as if they had artificial eyes. "I must really go home now," he said somehow.

"Arre, what's the hurry?" the woman said, coming ahead. "This is our house. Come inside for a minute. We have to show you something."

Now, though every nerve and fiber within Nikunj's body told him he should not listen to even a word more from this weird couple, there was something happening within him. His blood was racing furiously. He was rapidly losing his breath. And, most importantly, his limbs had frozen in place.

"Come, come," Sarvaiyya said, and held Nikunj by his arm. "Your grandfather will be so happy you visited our home."

Nikunj wanted to shout for help, but all of a sudden, his voice froze. In fact, he did open his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. He felt the man's hand on his arm, and it was cold as an icy lake, but he could do nothing to wrench himself free. Unbidden, he found himself being dragged by the couple.

And then, when the couple turned, he saw something else that nearly killed him. They had no backs. As they turned, all that was visible of them was some kind of black smoke. Nikunj knew now for sure these two were ghosts, but what could he do?

The two brought him to the house behind the hedge. It was a small three-room house with a well in this front yard. It was immediately apparent to him that nobody lived in the house. There was not a single sign of habitation. The couple brought Nikunj to the porch and asked him to wait. Then both of them came to him in turn, almost floating up to him each time, and asked him questions such as, "Do you like it here?" "Would you eat something?" "Would you like to live in this house forever?"

Nikunj could do nothing but he felt the tears flowing from his eyes. "Who are you?" he managed to ask.

"Your family's friends," the man said and laughed.

The woman joined in with a shrill tittering laugh. "So, we are your friends as well," she said and laughed all the more. "In fact, we have a son too. About your age. Would you like to meet him? You must. It will be great fun!"

Nikunj began to struggle but then he found himself being dragged. There was a force pushing him—either from the man or the woman, he could not say—but it was poking him behind his legs, buckling them, and making him walk. He then felt a sharp shove and a cussword was breathed into his ears. His tears had run down his entire face now, clouding his vision. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands and then he saw—he was standing next to the well.

"There!" the woman said. "Our Ameya is in there. You'll love playing with him."

In a flash, Nikunj understood what was going to happen. The couple was trying to push him into the well. His end was near.

Again, there was the pushing. Whenever Nikunj tried to scream, his voice would fail him. But he could feel the shoving and the punches. And, along with that, there was a lot of giggling. The two of them were happy at what they were doing.

All of a sudden, Nikunj heard a voice. "Niku! What are you doing here?" It was a stentorian voice, and it immediately told him that everything would be all right.

It was his grandfather's voice and it brought him to his senses.

He was aghast to see a search party standing behind his grandfather. Everyone had torches with them.

"We are looking for you since evening!" his Dadaji boomed. "It is almost midnight. And what are you doing here, so far away from the house? How did you reach here?"

Nikunj could not answer the barrage of questions. He had fainted with the pressure.

Things unfolded the next day. Nikunj had reached the other end of the village. There was no way to explain the lost five hours either. But when he told his family about Sarvaiyya and Ansuya, there was a collective gasp. Since he was a child, the family did not give him any exposition, but from what he could understand, the couple worked in Govardhan Bungalow once long ago. They had a son, Ameya, who accidentally fell into the well and died. The couple blamed the family for its carelessness but they could do nothing. It shook Dadaji badly that they had come back in this way to wreak their vengeance upon his family.

Dadaji could fight every humanly possible challenge. But this was something that was beyond his scope. To save his life from such further assaults, Nikunj was sent back to his home in the city the next day itself. He is in his thirties now and has never gone back to his ancestral village again.

But sometimes when he is alone, Nikunj still hears the soft voice of Sarvaiyya and the tittering of Ansuya. It is as if they are still looking for him and will get him one day. And there would be no Dadaji to save him then.

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