Double Seat

Mohan Mama. 

He wasn't our maternal uncle, but all the kids in the chawl would call him by that name, except his own. A middle-aged man, tall and slim, a little bent in the back, Mohan mama was always seen smoking bidi or occasionally, a cigarette. Early in the morning, we would see him going to work on his bicycle, and coming in the night, drunk. Though he had the habit of drinking, he never troubled anyone. On the other hand, he was a source of amusement for all of us. On Sundays, when he would not drink, and if he was in a good mood, he would tell us stories. In the night, when he would sit on the porch in front of his house in his lungi and vest, we would go to him for a new story. 

"You know what work I do? I am a car mechanic." He said taking a puff of smoke. 

"Thus, I have to deal with work that needs a lot of strength, and for that, I had to eat a lot of meat and beef. Sometimes, I had to work with a sledgehammer." He held the beedi in between his lips and showed us his palms. 

"Look at my hands! They are so hard and rough. If I slap someone, the man would not wake up till the next day." The beedi was still in between his lips, and the smoke was coming out from his nostrils. 

We would touch his hands, and truly, they were rough as a stone. 

"It's not easy to do this job. I have to cycle around 10 km to reach my garage near the University of Pune. Do you know how far it is?"

We nodded our heads. 

"Once, it was a Friday. My boss asked me to do some denting-painting work of a damaged car all alone. Everybody in the garage left for the home, but I. I told my boss that I would not leave the garage until I am done with this car. I also told him to go home as I would lock the garage myself."

"After completing the task, I packed my sack, put my tiffin in it. The tiffin still had the smell of the beef curry and paayaa your Maami gave me for lunch. I locked the garage. I looked at my watch. It was 11 o'clock in the night. The streets were almost empty. Only a bus or two, and some rickshaws were there. I cycled towards my home."

"On the way, I had to cross Lakdi Pool (the Deccan Bridge). There were no street lights that night. I looked at the sky, the moon wasn't there. It was an amaavas night. Was I scared? No. I am a devotee of Hanuman and I always carry his photo in my pocket. As I was cycling, I saw a white figure from a far distance. Was I scared now? Hmm ... A little bit. I started reciting Hanuman Chalisa in my mind. As I came closer to that figure, I saw that it was a beautiful woman draped in a white saree. She was asking for a lift. At first, I thought not to give her a lift as it was too late for me, but then I thought, she is a lady, and being a gentleman, I should help her." He took a new beedi out from the pouch and lit it.

"Can you drop me till Nana Peth? I missed my last bus." 

"Hmm ... I don't mind. I stay in Nana Peth only."

"Thank you very much. It was difficult to get any help at such an hour on a night of amaavas."

"What number bus did you miss?"

"Bus number 13."

She sat on the carriage seat behind me keeping both of her legs on one side of the bicycle. 

I started pedalling my bicycle. 

"Where do you stay in Nana Peth?"

"Near Bharat Talkies."

"I too stay there only. But where exactly?" I asked her.

The wind was growing wilder now. Her hair was flying on my face.

"I stay near the mosque."

"Where near the mosque?"

"Don't you know what is near the mosque?"

"I know. It is Kabristan (a cemetery)."

My mind paused for a while. "Did she say that she stays in Kabristan?" To reassure my fear, I asked again.

"Where near the mosque? Any exact location? Any chawl number?

"Not in a chawl. I live in a Kabristan. In a grave." She said with a weird voice that sent chills down my spine. 

I looked behind. Her beautiful face now turned into a witch's face. She held my arms tightly. I tried to pedal faster, but I could see that my bicycle was not moving. Before anything could happen, I jumped off my bicycle and looked at her. She was still sitting on the rear seat, mid-air. I looked at her legs were crooked. Without wasting any second, I ran for my life."

"The next day, when I got from my bed, I called a Brahmin Pandit and told him about the incident."

"That was an insatiable soul whose wish was not fulfilled before her death," Pandiji said.

"But why was she after me only?"

"Because you were all alone in the amaavas night, and on the top of that, you were carrying non-veg in your tiffin. Ghosts can smell non-veg from miles." 

Panditji did some prayers and I felt good."

Mohan mama was done with his story so with the last beedi remaining in the pocket. 

"Were you not scared at all?" asked one of us kids. 

"Not at all. I am not scared of the deadliest of the ghosts or the witches because I have this Hanuman's photo in my pocket and I know Hanuman Chali ..."

Before Mohan mam could complete the word 'Chalisa', shouted his wife loudly, "It is too late now. Would you come inside or shall I come out?"

Mohan mama got up from his seat, and said, "and I am not scared of anyone because I know Hanuman Chalisa". 

We kids could not control our laughs as we went to our beds.