Mawsynram is considered to be the wettest place on Earth. In the year 1984, it had registered the heaviest rainfall mankind had ever seen. But few know the back-story behind it.
The wettest place on earth has a past. Mawsynram village was completely washed down by a whopping 26000 millimetres of rainfall that shook the very foundation of the place where it stood. Landslides ensued, and streams were formed. All of it went straight into the Umngi river that used to run parallel to the village.
Mawsynram, the wettest place on earth ended up punishing itself for a crime that its people had committed unknowingly.
If you wish to find out more about the story behind the wettest place on earth, read on:
Wettest Place on Earth: The Ghost of Mawsynram
It was one of those rare instinctive moments when you don’t stop to think about repercussions. You just do it, eyes closed, irrespective of what it might do to you, or how lethal it could turn out to be.
It was his brother after all. And you place family before your very own life. That’s the golden rule of living.
So Arth jumped into that bog that seemed to be taking Harry away from him. He could see his hand, that’s all he could see. And he jumped screaming his name.
“Harry! Harry! Hang on!”
Drawn by the noise and scuffle, his other friends ran towards him. On reaching there they found Arth in a puddle of mire struggling with something. Without wasting any time, one of them tugged at him by entering into that mire while the other one held his hand. The second one did the same. The third friend followed the suit. They formed a human chain as Arth tugged hard at Harry.
One of them asked.
“It’s Harry! It’s Harry my brother! I saw him go down!”
Others tugged hard as Arth refused to let go. At one point the victim began to budge and come out as all of them fell to the ground with Arth holding on to something in his hand.
Arth saw he was holding onto a stick.
“What? Where did he go?”
His friends tried to find Harry but there was no sign of him.
“Are you sure?”
“Dude! I was holding onto him. How did his hand turn into a stick?”
“You moron! How can a hand turn into a stick?”
Enters the Brother
Just as they were busy discussing the what, and the how, came from behind Harry.
“What happened? Did I miss something?”
Everyone was dumbfounded. They looked at Harry first then at Arth, then at Harry again.
Harry replied calmly.
Arth seemed confused for a while then finally letting go of the stick he had. He hugged Harry tight and cried as Harry consoled him.
“What happened? Tell me. Am I missing here something?”
On returning to the village when everyone surrounded Arth, he explained the account of how he had seen Harry fall into that quagmire of hell. He distinctly remembered his hand gradually going down, being sucked by that mysterious quag. How he had jumped to save him only to find he was holding a stick in his hand. The villagers listened to his story in rapt attention, then one of them spoke.
“I thought it was just a story, but it is true.”
Puzzled everybody looked at Kaustav.
He said gravely,
“My grandfather had told me about a girl who had died in a bog in Mawsynram.”
Gasps ensued. Some of them had heard that story before.
“It couldn’t be. It’s just a myth.”
Somebody remarked trying to write Kaustav off.
The Back-Story of the Mire Ghost
When Arth inquired he continued the story.
“Back in the days before Mawsynram was the wettest place on earth, it used to be known for its blemished past. It used to get plundered by robbers every month. They used to drop in unannounced and take everything that was accidentally left out in the open. People shut their doors on those who were left behind. There was this nearby village’s girl who had come to visit. She didn’t know anything about the robbers. She was chased after as she banged helplessly on every door of the village but nobody opened. The village had a swampy pond in the middle of it where she dove in to save herself from the filthy robbers. But it was a bog that swallowed her whole, as the robbers watched her die slowly as the doors refused to open.”
Harry, Arth, and his friends listened to the tale with rapt attention. They couldn’t believe Mawsynram had a history so vile that it made their blood curdle.
“Look around you, isn’t this nature’s way of punishing the people here. Unprecedented rain?”
A wise man pointed out.
“There are puddles everywhere. Swamps can’t be avoided. We are living in a mire of our own doing.”
Another one spoke.
“We are sandwiched between her. She’s everywhere.”
Kausatav spread his arms wide open theatrically as everyone felt a morsel of their heart being chewed upon by fear.
He continued then,
“Ever since, the village has seen numerous incidents of people falling into bogs, and disappearing. I think she’s scavenging. It’s vengeance that may not ever stop.”
One of the wise men said:
“Our village needs to be vindicated. Let’s summon an exorcist from Mawjymbuin and stop this madness once and for all.”
Others concurred in unison.
Summoning an Exorcist
So, it was settled. A pandit who dealt in occult practices was summoned from Mawjymbuin caves. It was raining as usual. They arranged for a shed especially to light up a consecrated fire where offerings were to be performed. Incantations followed, spells and charms nobody had ever heard of ensued. The ritual went on and on into the night until people started yawning. Then it was over.
The pandit stood up, blessing the villagers confirming that she is really gone, gone for good, never to return again. Villagers rejoiced with that thought, paid the pandit and then retired to their houses.
The next morning a miracle happened. Arth pulled down his curtain to find a streak of bright light entering his room. The same thing happened with every villager. They came out in the open only to be astounded. The sun beamed at them merrily. They were looking at a promising sun for the very first time in years. It shone brightly with no clouds to hide it.
The Pandit became an overnight hero. Bags of wheat and rice were arranged to be transported to his caves. People were so happy that they lost themselves in crazy euphoria. The day was theirs to celebrate and they celebrated it like it was their village’s rebirth.
“The ghost has been defeated.”
They sung songs, boozed away into the night, eventually getting lost into their smokes of spliffs.
Later at Night
At about 3 AM at night, Arth opened his eyes to a parched neck. A noise went in on the backdrop. He didn’t pay attention as he was really drunk. He went towards his pot in hopes to find water. When he put his hand in it, it got stuck somehow. He tugged hard but couldn’t get it out. He tried to lift the pot but it seemed unusually heavy. Just then his window burst open and in a flash of lightning, he saw the glimpse of the village pond. Someone stood there. A silhouette of a girl.
He looked at the pot now it was brimming up with bog. And it slowly started pulling him into it.
Arth woke up in his bed.
“What a nightmare!”
Then he tried to go back to bed again. But then he felt the same pattering of the rain going on in the background. Startled up he sprang up off his bed, only to step into a boggy ground. His floor was now a mire and there was water everywhere. He shouted at the top of his voice, but the dead don’t listen.
The wettest place on earth Mawsynram registered its heaviest rainfall that night. The mire swallowed the whole village. Not a soul survived. It was a flood that had turned a pond into a river.