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www.marryAghost.com

By the same author A Dilli-Mumbai  3 Story

Forthcoming title The Unpromised

www.marryAghost.com

Abhimanyu Jha

s

Srishti Publishers & Distributor N-16, C. R. Park New Delhi 110 019 [email protected]

First published by Srishti Publishers & Distributors in 2014 Copyright © Abhimanyu Jha, 2014 All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental. The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. This addition is for sale in Indian subcontinent only. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the Publishers.

To my family for their love and guidance. To friends who supported me during difficult times. To all the ghosts of the world, anywhere and everywhere. To people in search of their beloved.

Oh! You cannot go without me… I know you are tired, but come, This is the way.

– Rumi

Are you searching for me? I am sitting next to you. My shoulder is against yours. – Kabir Aaj jaane ki zidd na karo…

– Fayyaz Hashmi

Zindagi khatm bhi ho jaaye agar, na kabhi khatm ho ulfat ka safar, Chalo dildar chalo… – Kaif Bhopali

Bahut kathin hai dagar panghat ki, yeh ishq ishq hai ishq ishq… – Sahir Ludhianvi

Acknowledgments I would like to thank the ghosts of the world for giving me the idea for this book. I would like to thank my friend Mr. Ahlawat for the cover design of the book. I would like to thank my family and numerous friends who faithfully responded to my questions on the best title, design, ending, etc., and helped me spread the word about this book. And finally, I would like to thank team Srishti for helping me bring this book to the world.

DAY

11

Monday VEERU: Maahi. The beloved. No… my beloved. My Maahi. I claim her for myself though she didn’t return my love. Does it matter? Does it matter if the one you loved, loved someone else? Does it matter if you loved the spirit, not the body? Does it matter if you never touched the one you loved… because you couldn’t? Does it matter if four days were all you got with her, the four strangest days of my life… perhaps of anyone’s life? It doesn’t. Where is she? That’s the only thing I want to know now. But I fear to know, I shudder to know… I don’t know. Where?

1

DAY

1

Friday MAAHI: Where am I? What’s happening? It hurts so bad. Why is it hurting so much? Please… please can someone help? “Hello!” A voice calls me as a woman slowly walks out of the haze. She is a short old woman wearing black glasses and walking with a stick. “I will help,” she tells me when she is standing next to me. “Just hold my hand.” I look up at her. “Who are you?” “A friend,” she says. “You need me.” “What’s your name?” “I am Professor Deb Burman. What’s yours?” “I… I…” “You have forgotten who you are, haven’t you?” “Yes! How do you know?” “I know. I have been there. Here… hold my hand.” “But I can’t get up!” “You will. If you hold my hand.” I raise my hand to grasp hers, but my fingers pass through thin air. I look at her in panic, but she gives me a reassuring smile. “It’s ok. Let’s try again. Something’s happened to you. I know what.” 2

DAY

1

Friday, Bangalore VEERU: It started with a bet between me and Jerry. Jerry and I were a strange duo. We had met on a train, didn’t know a thing about each other, and yet decided to start a company after talking for like… four hours. I worked for a mobile startup firm developing applications – the work far less fun than was promised. Jerry was in Oracle. He had chugged along for close to five years and was at the point where you begin to think if other guys with your profile and experience can become entrepreneurs and make shitloads of money, why can’t you? In about a couple of hours, he figured I was smart, reliable and a risk-taker. In other words, ‘entrepreneur material’ (his words), and influenced me to think about starting a company. To tell the truth, neither of us had a clue what we would do. We just wanted to do something fun. And make money. The dream of all entrepreneurs. Soon, we found out entrepreneurship was less sexy than it was made out to be. I mean the first part, the ‘fun’ part, happened for a while. The second, the ‘money’ thingy: never. After a bit of research, we started an e-commerce company, but couldn’t influence anyone to invest in it. Quickly, we were at 3

4

Abhimanyu Jha

a stage where having exhausted our savings, we had to freelance to survive. And for some time now, freelancing had begun to consume most of our hours, replacing the e-commerce venture as the main job. Not many days ago, Jerry and I had this extensive argument on paranormal existence. What else can you do when bored of both freelancing and an afternoon of trying to get your suppliers to give you bigger discounts? I don’t remember how it started. But as the debate went on, it was clear that Jerry was strongly ghost-positive; I, ghostnegative. About an hour into the discussion, I was overwhelmed by Jerry’s list of ghostly sightings around the world. I conceded that maybe spirits did exist given the number of haunted houses and castles, (and given Stephen King, Jerry added), but no way could they have memories and emotions. “That’s biologically impossible.” “Why?” “Look dude….” I turned my chair around to face Jerry. “Emotions are just chemical reactions induced by electrical signals created by nerves. You can’t have electrical signals if you don’t have nerves. You don’t have nerves if you don’t have a brain. And you don’t have a brain if you are dead. Simple!” But Jerry wasn’t the one to give up easily. Abandoning the logical reasoning route, he started narrating a ‘true’ story his cousin had told him. In that story, a girl had committed suicide after being ditched by her lover, hounding her ex as a ghostly spirit night and day till he made her three promises. Promise one: he would take care of her old mother, now alone in the world.

www.marryAghost.com

5

Promise two: he would bring a rajnigandha for her everyday, like he had promised her while wooing her. “Rajnigandha?” I asked. “She ate rajnigandha?” “Ha… ha… Very funny. There’s a flower called rajnigandha also, remember?” I grinned. “I remember.” “And you know the worst promise she rogered him into making?” “What?” I asked, though I didn’t see what was so bad about the first two promises. They made the ghost seem quite human. “Made him promise he wouldn’t love anyone else... he wouldn’t marry anyone else….” Jerry shook his head, “…that he wouldn’t even have sex with anyone!” he ended, revealing the ultimate tragedy that could befall a guy’s life. He was almost mournful as he finished telling me about it. It was an unbelievable story, interesting but unbelievable, though I appreciated the ‘rajnigandha’ touch. Funny too. I was quite struck by the ghost’s insistence on her lover’s sexual abstinence. Maybe it was tit-for-tat for having let her die a virgin. I know it’s not prudent to make fun of business partners, but Jerry was carrying such a bomb that I just couldn’t help egging him on. “You know,” I told him, “This makes me think even ghosts should date other ghosts, consider taking them out for dinners or something. What do you think?” “Huh?” “Yes, think about it.” I meant wouldn’t that make the life of ghosts so much better? Dating and dinners could lead to less lonely and jealous, less vengeful ghosts. Bad for the Japanese

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