Reverse- A story unlike ever before

 

My readers.. the past month was one filled with happy moments every single morning (Of course it will be, it is my well-earned vacation after 1.5 years) the sound of chirping birds, the sound of raindrops falling on the aquiline leaves in no particular rhythm, the sound of Amma softly chanting from the endless weary books of shlokas and to top it all from the floor above I can hear the strains of radio which means Achan is in the midst of his fluid yoga moves– all this happens while I sit on the red granite porch sipping Amma’s special tea. I stare at the huge sprawling sapota tree that has its roots embedded since time immemorial in the heart of our ancestral property- “ Amma, how many years has this tree been bearing fruit? No branch has fallen until now, no fruit any less sweet for the denizens of this property (I say denizens because we live peacefully with gorgeous civet cats, mongoose, cats, sometimes peacocks, etc). 

She answers – “ Oh! but there is an ancient story to this tree….”

Grab your favorite brew and settle down….

I pause for effect …

Ah, but this is not the story I wish to write…

A few weeks ago I had travelled with a congregate of happy family members to a lush green resort as part of the continual Onam celebrations. Readers, please note that every person travelling to the resort is in a state of permanent joy considering none have met each other over a year owing to the pandemic and the justified restrictions. The joy itself would have fuelled the respective cars.

As the sun reluctantly set on us a couple of hours later, we settle down on the lawns bordering our cottages. It is a full moon night- the silent backwaters and the array of coconut trees are part of the audience as we all catch up on each other’s lives and plans. The inquisitive mind of this writer couldn’t lie still. The motley group had members of all ages. Surely there is a story waiting to unfold. Surely someone in the group has had  a real life instance that is waiting to be retold and maybe written about.

After a bout of pulling each other’s leg over old stories- one that involved so many reactions that a slipper meant to knock my cousin’s head accidentally found its way to the lap of the bored backwaters- So much for my dream of being a javelin thrower in the next Olympics. I had to rescue the glittering slipper – The vodka in me gave me the strength to dip my feet in the waters – few minutes of coordinated support from the family and the slipper was retrieved and handed back to our aunt. Needless to say, everyone removed their slippers from my sight.

But this isn’t the beginning of the story I wish to write…

Not satisfied with the adventure for the evening- I quietly place myself on the damp grass and throw a question at our aunt who was stroking my hair while she spoke to another- “ Did you ever see a ghost in your ancestral property? I heard she used to roam the terrace! “

This one question brought forward more questions –“Where did you hear this? Who told you? “ I sheepishly point a finger at my better half  and the next few minutes were fun to watch.  This question also opened up the topic of spirits and their existence with one part of the family debating with the other. The ambience of the resort clearly supported the existence of it. I must say that the influence of our evening’s refreshments added more drama to the discussion.

I pause for effect- for under the moonlit night, amidst the trees and the lazy backwaters - now begins the story I wish to write…

Just like the mythological story of the vessel being churned to and fro for the nectar to rise above – The discussion kept going to and fro until my mission met success when one of our cousins came forward with a tale of what could have happened to them many years ago on a twilight evening in a hill station not far from here. It is too short a story but gives you that moment of … well, read on!

His calm voice takes over.

The story dates back to oddly 32 years ago when the newlyweds chose the mountain 2240m above sea level on the Western Ghats as their destination for the quintessential holiday post marriage. The mountains we know as Ooty bear a colonial past which is till date a source of attraction and a source of …I will not break the suspense.

The creamy white Fiat rolls its way across the 36 hairpin bends while our cousins breathe in the clean crisp fresh air. Her large almond shaped kohl rimmed eyes take in the breathtaking view of the neighboring hills. She drapes the cashmere pashmina shawl closer to her as the winds drop in temperature. Each bend crossed makes him crave for the strong cardamom flavoured tea readily available at the hilltop.

Readers, I break the story here to let you know that back in the resort, by now our storyteller has the rapt attention of all relatives including nature and the only other sound is that of the crickets nearby.

We trek to the mountains once again…

Their choice of destination is an ancient colonial villa with a history of its own. From afar they see the top of the structure as the car rolls forward. The redwood bricks catch her eye as well as the sprawling lawns beyond the gate. The joy of having finally arrived at the destination for the long limbed couple is but short lived. The last stretch of road leading to the gate was all that was left to cover when … the vibration below their feet stopped. The car stopped. A few turns of the ignition later it starts again but try as he might the gear to move forward would not budge.  He steps out to check if everything is alright with the engine and finds it in perfect condition.  He looks around and not a person is in sight. He gets back in the car, starts the same but the gear to move forward still remains jammed. He couldn’t understand the dynamics of it. It brought them here but not an inch further.

He could see the weariness and puzzled look in her eyes so just to lighten the vibe, he playfully tells her “ Let’s try Reverse “. The gear lithely falls to reverse and the car lurches backward.

Both look at each other. The winds have further dropped in temperature. A mist rolls from the fern trees nearby. “It’s like someone doesn’t want us to stay here” she casually mumbles. The redwood bricks begin to dull in the fading light and the eerie silence around is thick with uncertainty.

Not one to wait for further drama to unfold, he moves to reverse and navigates the car backwards. When the villa fades from their view, they look at each other, halt the car and thrust the gear to move forward – it lithely falls in line …

As soon as he has access to phones in the downtown area, the call to a few people confirmed his sense of foreboding …

So my readers,

What was it? What could have happened? is left much to our imagination… But the truth lies in those moments of eerie silence outside the villa.. Ultimately whatever we sense in such situations is right…If you still have doubts or feel the story is incomplete, you may contact the cousins – he is a gifted storyteller.

Meanwhile,  at the resort we fell back to debates and discussions on why the car couldn’t start etc and since my mission was complete, the writer in me sat back forming these words..