Circa: 2011 AD

I observed him carefully as he walked to the door. I knew that time was running out but suppressed the urge to check my watch. I took a deep breath and started counting in reverse under my breath. "Ten, nine, eight, seven..."

Chaos took over in a matter of minutes at the Jaipur airport. I waited with bated breath till Sethji emerged from the exit, drenched with perspiration.

‘Get the Jeep, Ashwin. We will talk, once we reach our haveli,’ Sethji said, before I could ask him of the scene.

We were home in precisely 11 minutes. 
  
                                                                                                                                                               Circa: 1971 AD

Mandore was celebrating the biggest war victory of India. The sights and sounds of crackers and children, were, seemingly, felt till Jodhpur; almost 11 kilometres from this one-horse town of Rajasthan. A series of award functions and victory processions were organised in Jodhpur, political rallies conducted, funfair held and then followed a circus.

‘Kaka, would you please take me to the circus? Baa-Saab has refused!’ I pleaded with my favourite paternal uncle.

‘Don’t be disheartened, son. I’ll take you there. Your father is busy as a beaver, with the VIP movement at Diwanji`s place due to the ongoing celebrations. We have been serving Diwanji`s family, since donkey’s years and being the lead chauffeur, Bhai-Saab has an onerous task on hands.’ Uncle brought the smile back to my face.  

***

The galloping tonga intensified the chill air in the dead of the winter but could not keep my excitement at bay. Despite having seen eleven springs till date, I had never been to a circus. The comedy of the clowns – the antics of the animals – the mystery of the magician; the circus promised to be more vibrant than life and was I waiting!

‘My tonga will be stationed, under this banyan tree. The last show, of the circus, ends at 10 p.m. – please return within 10 minutes after that. Only if you all return on time, will we be able to reach Mandore by 11 p.m.’ The tongawallah announced, while the eleven of us alighted, one by one. We had just reached the Ramlila Maidan in Jodhpur. 

                           ***

It took us quite some time to stave off the crowd and manage tickets. 

‘This circus must be something. I have never seen such a rush at any circus, at this hour of a winter night.’ Uncle said while we moved towards the entrance.

‘Am hungry, Kaka.’  I prodded him.

‘Oh! Damn! Seems I left the tiffin in the tonga. We will miss the beginning, if I fetch it now.’ Uncle said while scanning for the nearest kiosk.

‘Come.’ He took a quick step to his right.

‘Bhaaya, here’s an eight aanaa – make me some crisp peanuts. And will you please watch this child over – I will be back in two minutes?’ Uncle shelled out a coin.

The vendor nodded while roasting the peanuts.

‘Son, I will take a leak and return in no time. Do not leave this place, at any cost. Be beside this uncle till am back. Okay?’ Kaka left, hurriedly.

I looked around the ground, awaiting my uncle and peanuts, in equal measure. 

‘Here young man. Try some hot peanuts. Quite cold out here.’ The vendor extended his fist.

I, hesitantly, but happily, accepted it. While taking the first munch, it suddenly struck me that something was amiss.

‘Uncle, did I see a finger missing on your hand?’ A cold smoke escaped my mouth.

‘Did you?’ The vendor looked up at me through his woollen wrap.

Eeriness swept over me, as I saw him clear for the first time. 

His face and pate were as white as snow, covered all around in a thick dark brown rug and his light grey eyes pierced me, lifeless. The large iron earrings on his long ears were unusual and his paper-thin lips were dry, hovered over by a remarkably sharp nose. Every nerve on his neck was visible and I could literally see the blood flowing in it, despite the dark surroundings. The most striking were his eyebrows, which were missing, leaving his face expressionless. 

‘Come on, son. Let’s hurry up.’ I was about to miss a heartbeat, when I heard Kaka. 

The vendor handed him over the packet of peanuts, on spotting him. Kaka thanked him and pulled me from the arm, which was freezing, more out of fear than cold, to proceed towards the circus entrance. It all happened in a split of a second before I could come out of the trance and disclose the happening to Kaka. I looked back, one last time, at the vendor and then…there was none!

‘Kaka, the vendor! The vendor! He disappeared!’ I stuttered. 

‘Forget the vendor, son. Look at the crowd there. Come on. Hold my hand and run with me.’ Uncle sprinted, unwilling to miss the first act of the circus. 

***

I turned to see a huge audience swelled up at the entrance and started running along, in chain reaction.

The ushers struggled to collect tickets and the guards had a tough time controlling the line. We were panting by the time we made it to the entrance. The usher literally snatched the tickets from Uncle’s hands — tore it in half before thrusting it back into his fist and propelled us inside.

‘Am thirsty, Kaka.’ I uttered while taking my seat. 

‘Sorry son, if we leave our seats now, we will not be able to re-enter for the first act. Hold your horses till the break. Let’s do the peanuts till then.’ Uncle split opened the packet and forced a handful of peanuts into my palms.

I could not avoid observing the shape of each shell, which seemed like the missing little finger, of that peanut vendor. That experience had shaken me enough to, temporarily, forget about the event, I was so excited about. My hands were still trembling under the weight of the peanuts and my throat was choked, looking at the light brown shells. 

‘Kaka, will it be okay if you hold onto our seats, while I quickly quench my thirst? I had seen an earthen pot next to the entrance and I know the way. My throat is dry as a bone.’ I asked uncle.

‘Go on, if you are so parched. But in case, if you lose your way back, ask the usher to guide you to seat no X-11. Quick, the lights are about to dim.’ Uncle agreed.

The cold water calmed my nerves and as I stepped forward to return, I realised I had forgotten the way. In the claps and the commotion and the crowd, with the lights focussed on the stage, I was lost. I frantically looked for the man with the monkey cap and a torch — the usher, who had shown us in.

‘Uncle, can you please help me find X-11?’ I urged him.

‘You should not try acting brave, in such an environment, kid. Come, hold my hands – I will usher you to your seat.’ My saviour offered his hand.

I sighed and extended mine.

‘This sea of people has raised the temperature enough to get rid of my monkey cap. Just a second.’ He pulled off his cap while I was trying to clutch onto his hands.

‘Which way, uncle?’ I looked up at him to find a familiar face. 

His face and pate were as white as snow, covered all around in a thick dark brown rug and his light grey eyes pierced me, lifeless. The large iron earrings on his long ears were unusual and his paper-thin lips were dry, hovered over by a remarkably sharp nose. Every nerve on his neck was visible and I could literally see the blood flowing in it, despite the dark surroundings. The most striking were his eyebrows, which were missing, leaving his face expressionless.

‘See. I told you not to act brave in such an environment. Here young man. Try some hot jalebi. Quite cold out here.’ 

My heart was in my mouth when I gazed at his extended fist. I, now, knew why I was unable to clutch onto his hands. He had the little finger, missing, too!

***

Without forethought, I turned and dashed out of the tent, wildly. I could not scream, think or stop before I reached the banyan tree. 

I fell on my knees, gasping. It took me almost 10 minutes to collect myself, before I slowly looked around, for the tonga and its owner. The tonga was in place and I could almost hear the horses, snore. At a distance, was the tongawallah, warming himself up to a bonfire. The fog was as gloomy as the night and it clouded my vision equally as the occurrences. I was too petrified to think of anything else than run for my dear life. Thankfully, I was lucky enough to have reached the tonga and sane enough to realise that Kaka would be able to find me here. I could not think of anything else but to reach my home, safely. 

On pins and needles, I inched towards the tongawallah. He was the only one I knew, here, save my uncle.

‘Hey, did the show end before time? Where’s your uncle and others? The tongawallah asked as he saw me approach him. 

Trembling and numb, I slumped beside him, mute.

‘My! My! You seem pale and sick, mate. Seems the weather has had the better of you. Cosy upto the fire — you will feel better.’ He started to stroke my palms, vigorously. 

The fire and his warmth had a calming effect on me. The massage gradually sensitised me and I felt hungry, thirsty and sleepy at the same time. 

‘Uncle, I…I…You…Um…Have you…I mean…At the circus…I saw…!’ I was still a bundle of nerves

‘Gosh! What happened to you, dear? You don't seem okay! Want something to eat? Here, have some water, first.’ He offered me his flask.

I stared at the fist holding the flask, involuntarily and breathed a sigh of relief to see all fingers intact. I emptied the flask in one go and felt better…much better.

‘Will you please tell me now what makes you so ill, kid? You have goose pimples all over.’ He asked again.

‘I saw spirits, uncle.’ I squeaked, still unable to believe my own words.

‘What? Ha! Ha! Ha! Sheer nonsense, kid. Ghosts do not exist — people do.’ He brushed aside my claim, as a kid talk and got up to add more woods to the fire.

‘Believe me, uncle. Am not lying.’ I blurted out the entire episode to him.

‘Hmm! You mean both those men had same faces and the same fingers missing in the same hand.’ He lit a beedi.

‘Yeah, uncle and one of them did a disappearing act. They were so creepy that I almost fainted.’ 

‘Can you take me there to prove your point?’ The tongawallah puffed away.

‘No! No! Please, uncle. You don’t venture out, there, too. We will all die. Please take us home, as soon as Kaka returns.’ My teeth were chattering; from fear or cold – I didn't know.

‘Alright. Alright. I believe you. Okay? Here young man. Try some hot milk. Quite cold out here.’ 

The aroma of hot fresh milk wafting out of the small earthen cup was, probably, all I could have wished for, on that haunting wintery night. 

‘I have an additional cloak, which will keep you warm enough. Finish your milk while I fetch it from the tonga.’ 

I took a sip and watched him take couple of steps towards the tonga, when he turned.

‘Oh! Let me tell you something before that. You know, these spirits were once real people; the loyal of the erstwhile Diwanji, who were cursed by a sage.’ He paused. 

‘Many moons ago, a sage warned that Diwanji`s family would lose their reign, in times to come. Diwanji`s family mocked the sage, when he told them that he had dreamt of this and his dreams had the power to come true. Their loyal staff, then, threw the sage out of their reign, banishing him from entering again. Angered, the sage cursed that whenever a loyal would dream of a calamity, which involved anyone from Diwanji`s family, the dream would come true and if it doesn’t, the loyal would lose one of his little fingers and bleed to death.’ He lit another beedi.

‘For the loyals, some dreams came true — some did not but the sage`s dream came true. The British took over the princely states, over a period of time. Diwanji’s family could not bear to be commoners in their own reign and hence left everything to move to other parts of the state, leaving only the youngest member, to take care of their properties in Jodhpur and Mandore. His descendants carry their legacies having forgotten that chickens always come home to roost.’ He continued.

‘But...But...How do you know so much, uncle?’ I gaped at him. 

‘Because, I don`t have it either.’ The tongawallah gently gestured at his little finger on the other hand, while the moon light cleared the fog between us.

His face and pate were as white as snow, covered all around in a thick dark brown rug and his light grey eyes pierced me, lifeless. The large iron earrings on his long ears were unusual and his paper-thin lips were dry, hovered over by a remarkably sharp nose. Every nerve on his neck was visible and I could literally see the blood flowing in it, despite the dark surroundings. The most striking were his eyebrows, which were missing, leaving his face expressionless.

***

Over the next couple of days, while I recovered in the local dispensary, I was told that Kaka found me lying under the banyan tree that fateful night and brought me home. 

My parents were struck dumb for a whole week after I bared my plight to them. They decided to shift me to Jaipur, once I was discharged, to prevent me from the probable psychic effects. Diwanji suggested that I be moved under the tutelage of one of his acquaintances, called Sethji; a famous jeweller of Jaipur.

                                                                                                                                                            Circa: 2011 AD

‘Ashwin, I can’t thank you enough for saving hundreds of lives, including mine.’ Sethji hugged me as we entered his living room.

‘Never mind that I lost my temper on you, early this morning. I took it as a prank. Thank God that my wife believed in your dream and called the airport authority in time, to inform them of a possible bomb threat. An IED was timely detected at the airport, preventing a major tragedy. Had you not shared your dream of my possible death and had I taken the flight, I would be dead.’ He took his seat, mopping the sweat from his forehead.

‘You have been our loyal since decades but you never told us that you are supernaturally gifted.’ He seemed anxious.

‘Sethji, I…I am not sure myself. I seldom dream and none of them have ever come true but this one felt so real and scary that I couldn't resist sharing it with you.’ My blood was still running cold.

‘Strange! You may not know but a long time ago, a similar happening in Mandore made some of the royals forgo their identity and motherland. One damn compelled most of the Diwans to turn into Seths, the jewellers. Anyway, let sleeping dogs lie. Here, accept this cheque, as a reward.’ Sethji signed & handed me over the cheque.

It was signed – "Diwan Bhanu Pratap”. As I folded the cheque, I saw my little finger, vanishing into thin air…

                                                                                                                                                                  Epilogue

This is an abridged, factual representation of the first-hand recounts, narrated to the author by his grandfather, Professor Prem Shankar, of Jodhpur.

The original, from the horse’s mouth, remain unregistered till date, considering the then prevalent local superstitions.

A prequel and sequel is probable.