There was this one time when me and a couple of my friends decided to go to a haunted place. You know, one of those plans made on the the basis of extreme lack of excitement in our lives.

The place, according to Vinay was supposed to be at the bottom of a very steep slope and on the outskirts of a jungle. More than the ghosts (or spirits as my friend preferred calling them) I was scared of the animals. But, then backing out on that basis would send out only one signal- that of being a coward and a spoilsport.

We made the journey till the slope on a bike. (One bike-three people. Indian Style.) Once the slope began and we actually saw how steep it was we decided that taking a 74,000 bike with 3 people on it wasn’t safe.  So we decided that we would use the god given gift of legs. Also, if at all we go missing downhill, at least the bike will be saved.

We must have walked for at least a couple of minutes, when we saw a cat cross our path. We freezed but realizing that an option of spoiling our adventure for a bloody cat wasn’t a real good deal; we continued walking.

As I walked down after that, the panic slowly began to creep in. The trees had obtained another color and Vinay reminded me to just concentrate on the road. But, that was scary too. What if a lady in white colored saree jumps out of a tree directly on the road. Amongst these thoughts, I looked for a cigarette. It was there. The first two puffs were over when I saw some sort of a deserted house a few yards ahead of us. The light was on. I presumed it would be owned by some drug dealer since no sane man would have a house in this area.

A bike passed us by. The driver was  looking right into our eyes, and probably wondering what are we doing on this road at this point of time. He looked a bit scared. In all probability they too were here for the same reason as us. I could tell that they must have had failed 3 papers (at least) between them this semester. What I could also tell was that through them, God was signalling us not to go any further. He tried doing that through the cat. But then, there is a saying in our language- when the wolf has to die, it runs towards the city. And so we went. Downhill.

What followed in the tale is not for the faint hearted readers of this blog. All I can say, is that I am safe, alive and writing.

Or at least, I am giving you the illusion of it.