There are bazillions of kids ghost stories by Granny and I have been acquainted to only a few. So when someone told me about a baby ghost story, a folklore that could possibly be a fantastical creation of a beautiful head, I could not shake off other aspects to the fiction. There is plenty of angst that lurks and skims the surface of this baby ghost story, which, I am afraid, will get lost and possibly overlooked if I don’t write it good enough.
This particular story is from a collection of kids ghost stories that I have garnered via word of mouth. Such kids ghost stories generally come from those who are literally the powerhouses of horror stories. In this case, it was yet again a Granny. You can read another one here: Ghost Stories by Granny | Pandubba The Water Ghost
Here goes the baby ghost story. Sit tight and read on:
KIDS GHOST STORIES BY GRANNY
Unfortunate Indian people, particularly those from a rural backdrop, didn’t have the good hap of toilets and lavs in their houses. So, they were forced to use fields out in the open to get rid of their daily scat. Women were no exception to this rule. However odious this might seem to you, this still continues to be a way of living in a majority of rural places in India.
I don’t know how this folklore was formed, but it was a well carved one. Women who suffered a miscarriage, or a stillbirth were forced to drown their baby cadavers into rivers amidst their profound grief. There was no point in hanging on to the dead. So with days of wailing, that only spoke of their unrivalled attachment to another soul inside them, they used to agree to that crude decision.
Child loss is something which every empathizing soul can relate to. The intense misery of someone losing a child is incomparable. The fact that you don’t even get to create a story makes it a decimating truth that rips you apart living.
THE BABY GHOST STORY
One fine dusk, Geeta went out to a nearby farm for loo. Oblivious to her surroundings she sat their out in the open hidden from the world, when somebody or something tugged at her cloth. She looked around to see what it was. When she checked, she shrieked. An animal like grotesque creature with huge eyes stared at her, but it was whimpering. It had big ears that fiddled to any motion. It toddled towards her with slow moving hands, as if beseeching her for something. Its body appeared more like a gremlin’s as it whined in pain.
There was something in those big eyes that riveted Geeta. She decided not to hit the panic button just yet. Those eyes pined for love. Because when she moved, it scuttled back away, and then looked at her from a distance. It was a kind of talk that animals understand. Hell it looked just like an animal!
GEETA’S DEVASTATING PAST
Had she not been a mother, Geeta would have run away. But it reminded her of her dead child. She was convinced that it was him, who had come back from the world of the dead. She tried to coax it by offering her peanuts that she used to carry in her sari knot.
When the “hungry-for-love” baby felt the love Geeta offered, it returned towards her. She caressed her face, offering it to the food. Just as she did, a whole bunch of gremlin like animals, came out from the bushes whimpering too. So many similar souls all at once, scared her and she ran as fast as she could back to her house.
When she reached home she tried to explain to her husband what she had seen. But nobody believed. Even though some went out to scavenge. Geeta was convinced it was her dead child, but her husband rubbished it nevertheless.
Soon the lore found palpability as the women all across the village talked about similar incidents when they were out there alone. The folklore is still prevalent amongst the Indian multitude. A lot of them already know about the silent weeping eyes, children with big eyes, hungry for love, who couldn’t even witness the world.
THE FINAL VERDICT
I guess the baby ghost story could be a result of someone’s tears. It could be stark anguish that rips people apart and clouds their judgment, filling it up with hallucinations. Such minds then go on to create impulsive stories that try to revive the dead. Tears of pain and constant weeping then reinforce into something they try to put a body to. That’s what I think. It is fair too. I don’t try to reason with it. It is just the dead creating fiction for the dead.