Some time ago, I went with my family to India to spend a few months with my family. Life's more laid back for people who earn in America, since the equivalency of things like food, clothes, and cleaning is in our favor. Electronics and internet access are comparable or more expensive in certain cases, and so we decided to stay relatively tech-free.
We ended up going to spend some time in my mother's family's village, where her mom had grown up. Riding on some of the roads in the middle of Gujarat was definitely an interesting sight. It's almost like the American countryside, but without paved roads, rest areas, and towns with nice restaurants. It was definitely fun, though, seeing some wilder forests and old bridges on our way out there. I had a good time with my cousins and my mom's cousins, so I decided to stay a little longer after my parents and brother went back into the city.
Nights went by and we shared stories. We talked about how life was different across the world and the topic eventually came around to the supernatural. Rural India has a lot of interesting different kinds of ghosts and ghouls. Vetaals are sort of between zombies and vampires, for example.
My mom's cousin started to talk about how when he was young, he'd go off with his friends and play in the woods, and one day they met a jhand. These particular ghosts were spirits of travelers lost on the road, who usually asked for some assistance. You wouldn't really know anything was wrong until you looked down and saw their feet were on backwards. Him and his friends found a stray boy in the forest with a lost look in his eyes, asking for the road to the fort. They sort of got creeped out, because the only thing he could have been talking about was the city of Ahmedabad. It was a fort a few hundred years ago (there are still gates all around the city that are now monuments to its history), but it's been a city instead for a while.
They noticed his clothes were a little funny, his dhoti was torn, and then they saw he had his feet on backwards. They freaked and booked it home, staying away from the woods for a long time after that. We all kind of laughed at the ridiculousness of the story, but gave the woods on the edge of town a wary look. On the whole, though, it was a great time.
A week flew by, and I had plans to meet up with my brother and cousins for shopping early the next morning. My cousin in the village, Gopal, said he'd be happy to take me into the city that night. He started up his motorcycle (two-wheelers are abundant in India because they're cheap transportation). I got on back and we made our way slowly and carefully along the road back to Ahmedabad. We saw some people walking around in the villages we passed and a few cars on the road, but not much more.
We passed a section of road that went through the forest. I hadn't remembered that from the drive out, but Gopal probably took a different route knowing what was safer and what wasn't. We eased up a bit around a sharp bend, and suddenly, his engine died. We stopped in the middle of a dark road right in front of a small bridge over a stream.
Confused, he asked me to get down and help him take a look to see if there was anything wrong. No leaks, no stray problems. He goes to give it a kick-start, but the engine won't turn over.
"Do you have a cigarette?"
We both jumped nearly out of our skin. There was a guy leaning up against one of the vaad trees nearby (peepal, or Sacred Fig tree). He looked a little creepy and was standing in the shade just off of the road so we couldn't see him very well.
"Sorry?" I managed to ask.
"Give me a cigarette. I'm lost and had a bad day. I just need a smoke."
Gopal motioned for me to back up towards the bike. "Sorry, man, we don't smoke." He kicked again, and the engine came to life. I hopped on, feeling very weirded out and glad to leave.
We were crossing the bridge and I let out a sigh, and just then, a feeling of dread passed over me. The wind was starting to pick up speed, as were we, but then out of nowhere-
"WHY DIDN'T YOU GIVE ME A CIGARETTE!" A harsh voice, rasping out a shout that was stifled enough to be a whisper. Loud and soft at the same time, it came from right behind my left ear. I jumped a bit, and snapped my head to the left to see a gruesome face filled with rage and demanding sympathy.
You know, I almost felt for him, too. Then I noticed that his head was floating next to me, and his neck and torso stretched over the bridge back to where that guy was standing. His fucking legs were still under the tree. I swear, if I could see his feet, they'd have been fucking backwards.
I couldn't move or talk out of fear. I must have thrown off Gopal's balance a bit when I was snapped my head around because I noticed we slowed down a bit.
Frantically, I started to smack his side with my right hand. Lucky for me, he looked over his left shoulder instead of his right. If he hadn't... Anyway, he looks over his left, his eyes widen with fear, and whoosh.
He give it a hell of a lot of gas and we got the fuck out of there. We ended up making it home safely, though all kinds of shaken up. Gopal stayed overnight and left during the day, and since the village doesn't really have internet access or reliable phone service, so I didn't really know if he'd gotten home okay.
A week later, Gopal and his dad came to visit us before we left the city, and I was obviously glad that he was okay. I had told my mom the story, but no one else. It wasn't until she saw the fear on Gopal's face when I mentioned it that she believed me. They decided to pick up a carton of cigarettes on their way back to the village. Just in case anything happened in the future.
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We ended up going to spend some time in my mother's family's village, where her mom had grown up. Riding on some of the roads in the middle of Gujarat was definitely an interesting sight. It's almost like the American countryside, but without paved roads, rest areas, and towns with nice restaurants. It was definitely fun, though, seeing some wilder forests and old bridges on our way out there. I had a good time with my cousins and my mom's cousins, so I decided to stay a little longer after my parents and brother went back into the city.
Nights went by and we shared stories. We talked about how life was different across the world and the topic eventually came around to the supernatural. Rural India has a lot of interesting different kinds of ghosts and ghouls. Vetaals are sort of between zombies and vampires, for example.
My mom's cousin started to talk about how when he was young, he'd go off with his friends and play in the woods, and one day they met a jhand. These particular ghosts were spirits of travelers lost on the road, who usually asked for some assistance. You wouldn't really know anything was wrong until you looked down and saw their feet were on backwards. Him and his friends found a stray boy in the forest with a lost look in his eyes, asking for the road to the fort. They sort of got creeped out, because the only thing he could have been talking about was the city of Ahmedabad. It was a fort a few hundred years ago (there are still gates all around the city that are now monuments to its history), but it's been a city instead for a while.
They noticed his clothes were a little funny, his dhoti was torn, and then they saw he had his feet on backwards. They freaked and booked it home, staying away from the woods for a long time after that. We all kind of laughed at the ridiculousness of the story, but gave the woods on the edge of town a wary look. On the whole, though, it was a great time.
A week flew by, and I had plans to meet up with my brother and cousins for shopping early the next morning. My cousin in the village, Gopal, said he'd be happy to take me into the city that night. He started up his motorcycle (two-wheelers are abundant in India because they're cheap transportation). I got on back and we made our way slowly and carefully along the road back to Ahmedabad. We saw some people walking around in the villages we passed and a few cars on the road, but not much more.
We passed a section of road that went through the forest. I hadn't remembered that from the drive out, but Gopal probably took a different route knowing what was safer and what wasn't. We eased up a bit around a sharp bend, and suddenly, his engine died. We stopped in the middle of a dark road right in front of a small bridge over a stream.
Confused, he asked me to get down and help him take a look to see if there was anything wrong. No leaks, no stray problems. He goes to give it a kick-start, but the engine won't turn over.
"Do you have a cigarette?"
We both jumped nearly out of our skin. There was a guy leaning up against one of the vaad trees nearby (peepal, or Sacred Fig tree). He looked a little creepy and was standing in the shade just off of the road so we couldn't see him very well.
"Sorry?" I managed to ask.
"Give me a cigarette. I'm lost and had a bad day. I just need a smoke."
Gopal motioned for me to back up towards the bike. "Sorry, man, we don't smoke." He kicked again, and the engine came to life. I hopped on, feeling very weirded out and glad to leave.
We were crossing the bridge and I let out a sigh, and just then, a feeling of dread passed over me. The wind was starting to pick up speed, as were we, but then out of nowhere-
"WHY DIDN'T YOU GIVE ME A CIGARETTE!" A harsh voice, rasping out a shout that was stifled enough to be a whisper. Loud and soft at the same time, it came from right behind my left ear. I jumped a bit, and snapped my head to the left to see a gruesome face filled with rage and demanding sympathy.
You know, I almost felt for him, too. Then I noticed that his head was floating next to me, and his neck and torso stretched over the bridge back to where that guy was standing. His fucking legs were still under the tree. I swear, if I could see his feet, they'd have been fucking backwards.
I couldn't move or talk out of fear. I must have thrown off Gopal's balance a bit when I was snapped my head around because I noticed we slowed down a bit.
Frantically, I started to smack his side with my right hand. Lucky for me, he looked over his left shoulder instead of his right. If he hadn't... Anyway, he looks over his left, his eyes widen with fear, and whoosh.
He give it a hell of a lot of gas and we got the fuck out of there. We ended up making it home safely, though all kinds of shaken up. Gopal stayed overnight and left during the day, and since the village doesn't really have internet access or reliable phone service, so I didn't really know if he'd gotten home okay.
A week later, Gopal and his dad came to visit us before we left the city, and I was obviously glad that he was okay. I had told my mom the story, but no one else. It wasn't until she saw the fear on Gopal's face when I mentioned it that she believed me. They decided to pick up a carton of cigarettes on their way back to the village. Just in case anything happened in the future.
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