The stranded house was old, surrounded by huge trees of Banyan, Neem and Peepal. The main town was far from the house. No immediate neighbors. Myra wondered how she was going to manage without Vivan in the scary night at that isolated place. The house was too big for just two but Vivan was fond of large spacious houses. When he got an offer at a low price in growing inflation, he did not even think twice before grabbing it. She was apprehensive about buying this deserted house though.
Days rolled on. Sometimes she felt as if the air was whispering something in her ear, as if someone was breathing hard. Sometimes she felt a strange kind of smell suffused all over. Maybe she was imagining, but a bizarre sense of fear kept haunting her.
“Vivan, I don't feel good in this house.”
“Why Myra? This house is so good. Where can one get such a big house at this price?” Vivan said carelessly without even looking at her, as he worked on his laptop.
“Exactly! Isn't it fishy? Why would anyone sell such a grand house so cheap?”
“Because the man was in need of money,” He said bluntly.
“I feel someone else exists in this…”
“What rubbish are you talking about Myra? You’re an intellectual, educated woman. Please stay away from such frivolous thoughts.” He chided. After a brief pause he continued “I think your idleness is killing your conscience. I’ll get you some good books.” He caressed her face and got busy with his laptop.
Vivan had gone for his official tour. He arranged a maid, Shanti, to help and accompany Myra. After two days, Shanti regretted her inability to stay there at night as her son was sick. Myra was left with no option.
As the dusk enveloped the earth, Myra grew restless. Howling wind, and the dainty wind chime clinking at regular intervals gave her inexplicable scare. She set down the wind chime on the table and closed the windows and doors. Both appetite and sleep eluded her. She pressed her eyes closed and tried to sleep.
“Myra.”
Her eyes flew open. The voice was too familiar. She felt as if her mother was calling her. The voice seemed to come from the road side. Fear clenched her heart.
“Myra.” Now the voice grew prominent.
She was indeed her mother and she was calling her. But how could she come to this place at this wee hour? Myra thought and her heart raced faster. She felt tempted to open the door and look, but fear gripped both her body and mind.
“Myra, come to me.” The voice grew intense and painful and clearer, as if she was standing outside her window.
Yes, it's ma. She is in pain. She thought. Suddenly, Myra rose to her feet and proceeded towards the door hypnotically.
The next morning looked clear and bright, as the sunlight filtered through Myra's windows. The phone was blaring but nobody answered.
Somewhere, maybe a mile away from Myra's house, a woman lay unconscious on the roadside. The crowd was hovering around her. Suddenly, Shanti appeared, splitting the crowd and gaped, putting her hand on her mouth.
“This is Myra memsahib. But how?"
