One of those narrations of real life ghost stories that came as a weird surprise was this Saredih haunting incident that had left me scratching my head. It still eludes me to this date. I haven’t been once, but thrice, told this ghost story with painstaking detail. The sheer horror of it all, and the veracity on which it stands, have never failed to write evident expressions of doubts on my face.
I can see my narrator’s countenance getting terrorized too with every recital. He goes in a trance, as if time traveling into the past trying hard not to relive that wretched night all over again. That eye popping supernatural recounting for him is like yet another event happening. Goosebumps ensue and he freaks out every single time sharing the account with me. To share it with you all and seek answers, I wish to present this surreal tale from the medley of TDB’s real life ghost stories.
Here goes the narrative that comes straight from our real life ghost stories assemblage. Read on:
Naxal Prone
Saredih shares its own bunch of secrets. They say it’s a cursed village. That there are more dead than the living. People have learned to live in fear. The fear of being plundered and killed by Naxalites weigh them down more than any scary event ever could.
Saredih is one of those unfortunate villages of Palamu that has been left to their fate by an impoverished governance. It has become more of a requisite for innocent people to carry guns as a sign to justify their safety. If people are seen packing firearms, it isn’t considered uncommon at all. The system is so crude that nobody bats an eye. It is their way of shouting defiance through self-defense with their belligerent eyes to an extremely feeble Indian Government. If you ask a fellow villager the reason for it, they are going to simply disregard you with a “you-never-know” shrug.
Real Life Ghost Stories: The Village Setting
Saredih had seen a lot of tough days. But things were seemingly sedimenting down. The village was developing in terms of basic amenities. It was only recently when it had been introduced to electricity. Life was good for the people.
Lush events would find bountiful lights. Religious festivals would see loudspeakers blaring up unto the dawn. Firecrackers would flare up the dark defying nature’s monotony. Naxal attacks looked like a thing in the past. Nevertheless, nobody ever ruled it out truly. Guns had seeped their ways into the living.
Jeet had his supper early that day. He went to his roof, lying on his back and was attempting to count the stars. The sound of an engine purring disturbed his pointless affair. He stood up reached for the railing to see who was calling his name from the street.
Fest Calling
It was anyways going to be one of those usual days of boredom, if it were not for his friends who had stopped by to tag him along to a festive event that night. He went with them, as he was curious to find out how Saredih celebrated their nightly events. So they drove into the beckoning light, together until they reached there.
The place was around 5 kms far away from his home. As the show went on non-stop, he realized the cliché in it and yawned profusely. Primarily because he was tired, as it was getting late. Also probably because the fest was failing to impress him. After spending 2 hours there, he decided to retire. He asked his friends if they too wished to. However, they were too psyched to leave. So it was settled that he would walk back home. He had walked 12 kms on foot before, how bad would mere 5 kms be? So he thought and prepared to set foot.
Before he could hit the gravel, one of his friends called him and slithered a nozzle in his hands.
“Keep this for your safety.”
Thus began his relentless trudge.
The Walk
In a moonlit night of indubitable clarity, Jeet walked alone on a trail that was supposed to take him to a much better cemented road in about next 3 kms. It was awfully lonely out there. The dead hour was silently confirming it too. Not a soul stirred, only leaves on the grim looking trees yonder did.
In the backdrop he could still hear the echoing noise of a wannabe singer bawling his lungs out on the village’s only Mic. But those echoes were gradually diminishing with every step he took home. Then within a matter of seconds, it was gone too.
The silent thud of his foot hitting the ground was the only sound now that was loud and clear. The stillness of the night remained to keep him company. That and the guy he had just made out walking in the field towards his left.
The Vanishing Unco
Minding his own business he hadn’t paid much attention to him. Subconsciously his mind had noticed a guy standing some feet away. Then he was no longer there, only to reappear at a distant location.
It struck to Jeet that if there is someone out there he could at least enjoy the pleasantness of a company walking down that wretched road towards his home. As he trudged on, he noticed the man had somehow appeared towards the right side of the trail and was now waiting for him there next to a graveyard towards his right.
Remember all of this happened with Jeet’s not noticing him, and that’s why he hadn’t freaked out as of yet. You know how your thoughts are so loud that you forget your surroundings completely but it is only after you realize something odd going on that you begin to pay attention?
In a matter of seconds, that man was walking beside him.
Ensuing Dialogue
“Where are you going?”
That strange man inquired as he tried to match Jeet’s pace and walking rhythm.
“Home”
Jeet responded calmly.
“Why don’t you come down with me to the Harijan Basti?”
Jeet realized he was talking about a village towards their right, that opened to a different trail altogether, when he referred to it.
“Why would I wanna go there?”
“C’mon it’s not that far.”
“But why would I wanna go there?”
“It is very close by.”
“My home is this way.”
Jeet said pointing towards his left.
The Mammoth Tree
Jeet realized how bad the stranger was trying to coax him into taking him there. But he remained adamantly cool nevertheless.
It wasn’t until they reached a huge tree that was casting a tilted shadow on their trail that Jeet realized who he was conversing with. Because in the shadow of the tree, the man disappeared completely only to return again, as they moved on towards the moonlight. His vivid profile reappeared as if materializing from a mystic mist.
Jeet realized the cemented road was about to begin, so he leapt ahead to leave the trail he was on for good. Then he turned around to look at him. The stranger had stopped on the trail itself. He stared at him giving him a threatening look.
“I dare you come this path again. I am going to fucking kill you!”
It gave him the chills, as Jeet shuddered before reaching out for his gun. To his surprise the ghost outgrew him, then into a humongous size. As it did, Jeet fired three shots at him as it waned once again moving away, before disappearing into the darkness of the tree.
Scampering for his life Jeet ran the rest of the way home. The next day when he told his friends about the incident they came to look at the place where he had encountered him. Engraved there on the trunk of the tree were three bullet wounds. They seemed to be telling a telling story of a thrilling ghastly encounter. But the world wouldn’t listen.
Brooding on it
Like I said before, the narrator doesn’t miss out on the minute detailing of the events. It isn’t just a story. It has bolts of reality that makes this ghost story one of a kind. Such real life ghost stories compels you to ponder. These real life ghost stories make lonely walks in the dark akin nightmares.
If you too have a collection of your own real life ghost stories to tell, please do. We can’t wait to share them with the world.