Horror fiction: Why a poltergeist’s logic does not answer the troubled mind of humans

That there has been some crassness on my part is a fact. It took ten minutes to reach the town by car. The railway station, multi-speciality hospital, educational institutions, shopping malls – all the things one needs – were in close proximity. I accepted the offer. There was sufficient water in the well. All these things made me decide to buy the plot. I envisaged the plot turn into a residential colony in time to come. The plot measuring 52 cents (1 cent = 435.6 sq.ft), which I bought six or seven years ago, has seen many changes since then. When an acquaintance, an honest person, persuaded me to buy it, I consulted my children first. They told me and their mother, “We must pay the advance straight away and book it. It is a precious piece of land. We have checked Google Earth.” Things happened quickly after that.

The day after the registration, someone rang the bell of my room in the hotel where I was staying. He looked like someone who had lost in a race. He was trying to control his panting. There was a welt on his face where someone had slapped him. The smell of toddy emanated from him and he seemed to have drunk himself into a stupor in order to forget something. Who had beaten up this fellow?

“Who are you?”

“Aren’t you Vilayamkadavu Achuthan Master’s…”

“…son, yes.”

He picked up the jar of water on the table and guzzled all the water with a gurgling sound.

“Sit down. What do you want?”

He sighed deeply and began to speak.

“I am Govindan. Because I work with land and property people call me ‘Mannu (earth; property in this context) Govindan’. I am saying all this because you are the son of a person who sacrificed his life to save others.”

“What has actually happened?” I was apprehensive now.

“Someone has cheated you.”

“Meaning?”

“The land you bought – the place is haunted by a brahmarakshas. Not a place where you should construct a house. Sickness and misery will not leave your house. Untimely death, financial collapse, loss of reputation, litigations … screams and howls at odd hours, bacterial infections; hearing someone call you while you are asleep – you will sink under the weight of such problems.”

I couldn’t help laughing out loud. The old rationalist in me surfaced and scoffed, “We can perform rituals to avert these misfortunes.”

Govindan paused, a little taken aback. Then he resumed.

“No use. It is an overwhelming possession. Four or five parties have run away to save their lives. They escaped, forsaking the advance they had paid for the property.”

The room boy got the tea we had ordered. While he was pouring the tea into a glass, the glass shattered suddenly. The tea flowed all over the teapoy and trickled to the floor. Shards of glass flew around the room.

Mannu Govindan grabbed the sacred thread tied around his right wrist with his left hand and sat with his eyes closed for some time, ostensibly lost in prayer.

“See? A bad omen even while we spoke of the rakshas?”

The room boy apologised and hurried out to fetch the housekeeping staff.

“The brahmarakshas ought to be where I bought the piece of land, isn’t it, Govindan, not here in this five-star hotel?”

“He can harm the buyer wherever he goes.”

“What are you getting at?”

“I speak because of my affection for Achuthan Master. You must withdraw from this project. A Maplah (Muslim) is waiting with an offer. He is willing to pay ten per cent more than what you paid for the plot.”

“Won’t the brahmarakshas haunt a Muslim, Govindan?”

“We are of the same community. When a Muslim is affected, people of his own community can look after him.”

I remembered what Babu had said: “Since you have been in the Gulf for so long, you are not aware of the changes that have taken place here. Now we do not have people – only communities and castes. And traders who govern these matters and small and big gangs of rowdies.”

Excerpted with permission from Brahmarakshas and Bhagyarekha, Shihabuddin Poyithumkadavu, translated from the Malayalam by Venugopal Menon, Ratna Books.