It was a dead end. We stood in the middle of nowhere as the Gps of our car (uber) mistook the place as our destination. There was no sign of life. The driver looked around bewildered, as he found nothing indicating where to proceed. I was on my way to attend a conference.
Without loosing much time; I phoned my colleague who rushed to pick me up. We got lost as we took the wrong turning and the place was at a stone’s throw away from the deserted place.
Finally, when I arrived where the conference was being held, for once, I thought I had reached my home state, Kerala. It had been a year since I was pining for my native place. I was living in Bangalore, then. The hustle and bustle of the city had literally started to take a toll on me. And there were no friends and families within the reach.
I could unwind with some greenery around. But as I lived amidst a food hub, the place was always abuzz with activities. I sought solace in a church nearby, during the evenings.
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| Courtesy: Visthar website |
Sprawled over six acres of land with mango trees and many others, the names of which I am not familiar with, the place was a great solace to me. Amidst them, here and there, just like islands stood small houses with tiled roofs. It reminded me of childhood days before the onslaught of technology. The knowledge that I could stay in one of them just cheered me up.
There was a gigantic well in the middle the steps of which led to its bottom. And you could see it as there was no water in it. No doubt, I was quickly taken by its beauty, but it gave me the chills too.
I found out later that the well could have a monstrous face with water to its brim as one of my colleagues showed me one such photograph. The mouth of the well was too wide that I felt it could devour you if you weren’t careful.
During the recess, I found many of my colleagues going down the steps with much ease and I watched them with wide eyes as I could go only a few steps. I was scared that the weaver ants on the steps would bite me and I would fall down.
Besides, though not intentionally, the conversation started to revolve around deaths by falling into huge wells. It might have been a sheer coincidence as I happened to notice Rajkumar, one of my colleagues intently listening to our conversation. Since he had come from Bellary (a major city in the state of Karnataka) which is more than five hours away, he was staying in Visthar for three days.
It was the time I was seriously thinking about travel blogging and even rejigged one of my blogs for it. But I hadn’t mustered the courage to go to far away places (I still haven’t). So, a shout out to all those travellers and travel bloggers out there, I hold you in high esteem…
Hence, I thought of going there again and spend a few days to write about it.
To throw more light about the place, Visthar in Bangalore is a secular civil society organisation committed to social justice and peace. The environmental consciousness had made them design their campus to be an Eco – sanctuary.
The knowledge that I could spend a few days there at a reasonable price made my decision firm to come back which never happened. But as I write this, I regret it deeply as my whole being wanted to be there away from all the mundanities of life.
It was almost dark when the first day of our conference ended. The place suddenly had an eerie feeling about it. I felt like predators lurking in the dark, ready to pounce upon its prey when the time comes. But that made the place all the more exciting.
Though the next day began with a positive note, Rajkumar appeared to be tired like a withered flower. The Rajkumar I knew was a different person. With a strong physique, he always appeared ready to take the bull by its horns.
It was then I came to know that something strange happened in his room, the previous night. Upon coaxing, he took me and one of my colleagues to his room.
Though the room was big, the two wooden cots with a mosquito net frame and a large almirah made it a bit cluttered. The cots were put one after the other. Surprisingly, neat and tidy bathroom appeared larger than the room. As the building stood independent of each other, even you scream, through the fog, it would not reach anybody.
I saw a blanket lying near to the second cot. It was on the first he slept, the other night.
And he started narrating the incident. It was around 11.30 pm. He tucked himself in a blanket and was slowly slipping into sleep when he felt that someone was trying to pull the blanket off from him.
When he opened his eyes, he couldn’t see anybody but the blanket was lying on the floor.
He woke up, checked the bathroom and the large almirah. There was nobody. “But I felt a presence,” he said with fear still lingering in his eyes.
Much to his dismay, it occurred several times and he tried calling his colleagues but to no avail. Though he opened the door, out of fear, he couldn’t see anything through the fog.
He was petrified to the core that he shrunk himself into one of the corners of his room and did not remember when he dozed off.
The next morning when Rajkumar woke up his jeans, which was hung on the mosquito net frame was lying outside the door.
My colleague was making faces as if Rajkumar was telling a blatant lie. But I couldn’t think of it as such. I asked him to recount his experience during the conference. He gently refused, saying people wouldn’t believe him.
“I knew what I went through last night. But If I narrate my experience, I would be a laughing stock among them.”
He is right. Our experiences, thoughts, feelings are our own. And it can’t be expected that others too might accept them the way we experience.
” Have you come across any such experiences in your life?”
