Sometime in the middle of one winter night in the early 70s Gopal woke up with a start.

“Kaun hain?” blurted the half-awake Gopal on his first night in Khalari. He had arrived during the day from the neighbouring state of Bengal.

“Have you gone nuts” mocked a friend of his when Gopal had declared that he has taken a job in Khalari.

“That place is a jungle, few quarters of ACC cement plant and few more for the colliery staff, shrubs, trees and wilderness all around, and yes, ghosts, that’s all,” the exasperated friend explained.

“Just see, you would also run away, like I did” said the friend before walking away in a huff when Gopal didn’t seem to be deterred.

 “Kaun hain?” dared Gopal this time, he was now wide-awake.

The doors and the windows of the empty house rattled, it appeared as if thousands of hands were shaking the whole house. He was petrified and gaped at the quaking doors and windows in silence. Few moments later the rattling stopped and there was stony silence except for the occasional chirping sound of a cricket from somewhere.  

 The yellow walls and the gleaming naked bulb in one corner were his only companions in the quarter allotted to him. The eerie silence in the house made him sweat in the freezing cold night. Rest of the night he lay awake shivering of fear and cold. Like any person, Gopal had grown up listening to ghost stories, though he had never come face to face with one yet. With education and logic he had been able to ward off the ‘belief in ghost’ but this night had shaken up his belief, making it filmier.

Ten staff quarters stood in the middle of wild bushes, on one side hutment of the local residents stood a little far away and on the another side one could see coal filled dumpers plying to the siding. A railway track ran near the siding with goods trains passing occasionally. The passenger train that brought him to Khalari and the 3PM passenger which could take him back were other locomotion on the railroad track. Gopal was allotted one of the quarters. A Sikh family lived in the adjacent house, it comprised of four generations living under the same roof. 

A wrinkled faced Sardar sat in a caned chair outside the house basking in the morning sun when Gopal emerged out.

“Sat Shri Akaal Sardar ji,” Gopal greeted the old man.

“Vaheguru Ji Ka Khalsa Vaheguru Ji Ki Fateh,” the old man gave a toothless grin and raised his hand in blessing.

“Shall I share my night’s ordeal with him” thought Gopal. But he dismissed the idea; he didn’t want people to perceive him as chicken-hearted.

“Is there a temple nearby,” he enquired instead.

“Yes, a hanuman temple - Pahari Mandir, on the hill top, not very far, you can walk.”

When in trouble, one seeks solace in god and Hanumanji particularly for ghost related troubles. Gopal started walking towards the temple resolutely.

“Was it a ghost or an earth tremor” reasoned Gopal on the way.

Few minutes of walk and he was in the foot of the hill, he could see a small white pyramidal roof of the temple on the top. A flight of stairs stood in front of him. A crudely built shack on the foothill sold all worship items “Puja Samagri”, the priest of the temple ran the shop. The priest’s residence stood beside the shop.  Gopal picked up a coconut, shook it near his ears, the gurgle inside confirmed that it was fresh. A packet of incense sticks and few ‘laddus’ were other items he purchased before climbing the stairs. 

On reaching the top his eyes marvelled the thick greenery and other hills that lay ahead. He rang the ritual bell “Ghanta” on the entrance of the temple. The glistening, vermillion smeared red idol of hanuman carrying a mountain on his shoulder could be seen through the small grille door, which was locked. The shopkeeper cum priest arrived and opened the door from the key attached to the sacred thread that he wore across his chest. The priest arrived in the temple whenever a devotee came otherwise he spent his time at his home or shop. Gopal quickly peeled off the fibre from the coconut and hurried inside the tiny sanctum sanctorum. The priest broke the coconut near the foot of the deity, lighted the incense sticks and chanted few mantras. The puja concluded after a thick ‘tilak’ was applied on Gopal’s forehead by the priest, the paste was extracted from the idol of the deity.  

Old timers recollected that the hanuman idol was a small stone statue once but grew larger and larger with time. The unceasing coating of vermillion paste, offered by devotees, enlarged it. 

On his way back Gopal purchased a small statue of hanuman and placed it on a makeshift wooden platform in his new home.

“Is it an earthquake prone area?” enquired Gopal later during the day in his office.

“What? Most of the people here wouldn’t know what an earthquake is,” quipped a senior.

“So, is it a real ghost?” thought Gopal ruefully.

Back at home Gopal lit few incense sticks and chanted Hanuman Chalisa before hitting the bed.

Again, sometime during the night, he woke up startled, the doors and windows were rattling.  He leapt out of the bed and shouted,  “kaun hain?”

With hanuman ji at home now, he had more courage. He quickly took a heavy wooden stick that he had kept strategically near his bed and moved towards the door. The vibrating door latch was making a loud relentless beating sound.

“Why don’t you answer, I will come out and break your mouth” yelled Gopal, now filled with fear and fury. 

 The rattling stopped soon after. Gopal was now convinced that the house was haunted. He looked for the time in his golden dial HMT watch, it was 3 AM. He felt the ground slipping under his feet. Most of the paranormal activities happened in such time when the spirits are most active.

“It is the devil’s hour” muttered Gopal.

  “Something has to be done, if there is evil then there is god too, a Satyanarayan Puja must be done for relief from troubles” Gopal finally decided.

The next day Gopal took leave from office and arranged for the puja, he observed fast, decorated the front door with mango leaves and knocked all the neighbouring do ors for inviting them.  The priest came and started the puja, the same concluded with an Aarti. The old Sardar graced his presence the entire day.

“Did someone die in the house” Gopal investigated trying to establish some link.

“The oldest person in the colony is me and I’m sitting hale and hearty in front of you, no one died” the old Sardar laughed at his own joke.

“No, I mean my house, any previous occupant”

The old Sardar ran his thick fingers through his white flowing beards and thought for a while and said “No, no one died in your house, one bachelor like you lived here for 6 months and then it was vacant till you came”

Gopal was not reaching anywhere. He continued his exploration.

“Is there something unusual about this house that you may know?”

 “Unusual, no, nothing unusual”

Gopal was getting restless. Bizarre things are happening in his house and the old man is deriving pleasure in his quandary.

“I must ask him straight” he decided.

“Sardar ji, every night around 3 AM strange things happen in the house”

“What kind of strange things are you talking about?”

“The doors and the windows start shaking, it lasts for few minutes, is this house haunted?”

The old Sardar mulled over what Gopal said for some time and then started to laugh, his body convulsed, he got up from his chair and touched the shoulder of bewildered young man.

“Come, come, sit, I will explain, I must have told you”

Gopal, now utterly confused sat beside the old man and waited for the mystery to unfold.

“See, Ghosts are in the mind, not in the house”

Gopal was getting impatient.

The old Sardar further asked “Do you believe in Ghosts?”

“During the day, I don’t believe in ghosts. At night, I’m a little more open-minded” Gopal quoted, he had read it somewhere.

The Sardar paused, gave a short laugh again and said “Every night around 3AM one express train crosses from here and the rumbling vibration is because of it.”

The old Sardar laughed and jovially ruffled Gopal’s hair as he walked out laboriously.

Gopal stood alone thinking “Ghosts are in the mind, not in the house”. He smiled both at the relief and his stupidity.

Gopal continued to live in Khalari for the next thirty years, he surely had his share of troubled times but ghost was never the reason.