Tso Moriri, Ladakh

Tso Moriri, Ladakh

Thursday, April 10, 2014

Paranormal in the Family

Based on true incidents, with minor dramatization

In the heart of the city, on a street most people would be envious to live on, was this majestic five storied apartment building. I was maybe six years old when my uncle moved in there with his family. The building had no elevator and they lived on the highest floor with (what felt like) innumerable steep stairs that would eventually take you to the top. In spite of so many years having gone by, I clearly remember the first time I was in that enormous apartment with incredibly high ceilings, extra large bedrooms and a living-dining area that could, in most cities, comfortably house a small family. The best part however, was the terrace that one could access from the living room and get a view of the bustling, populous city.

That was then. The years had not been kind - the stagnating economy had given the city a tired look and the once-envied building was now frayed, neglected, badly in need of a paint job. The chandeliers, that once adorned the stairwell, had now been replaced with dimly lit light bulbs. As opposed to running up the steep stairs when I was six, I was now climbing them, one step at a time. Once inside, the place looked exactly the way I remembered it. The furniture, the artifacts, the rugs, light-fittings, once shiny new, now badly in need of being updated, polished or replaced. In spite of everything being clean, it felt that there was a layer of dust that could never be wiped away. 

It had been a few years since my uncle had passed away and my aunt, after a prolonged illness, had also died recently. I was sitting across from my two cousins, both of who were still living in the apartment. While they are both quite a bit older than I am, our conversations would not give away the difference in our ages. We talked about happy times, the lavish parties that were once a part of that household, the festivals we would celebrate together and the warmth shared by the families. We remembered the past, my dad and their parents who were no more, recalling incidents about them that would make us smile and get teary-eyed at the same time. 

“Much after she passed away, her spirit continued to stay with us,” said the younger of my two cousins abruptly, referring to her mother. 

For a minute there was complete silence. I didn’t know how to respond to what she had just said. Instead I just looked toward them questioningly, waiting for more, but choosing not to ask in words. 

The older one broke the silence. Facing her sister she said, “She took care of our mother night and day, relentlessly, without complaining for a moment. It was very hard for her when she passed away.”

“But what did you mean by her spirit still being with you after she died?” I asked, not wanting to let this go. 

“Initially I thought it was my imagination that I could see an apparition of her and could feel her presence in the house. But it wasn’t. She really was here.”

“How can you say that with such certainty?” 

“Her hand-prints would be around the house. We’d wipe them off and they would come back.”

“I can vouch for that. It wasn’t her imagination,” said the older sister. 

“And so many times,” continued the younger one,”I would see her walking across the hallway, catching the end of her saree as she would vanish.”

“Were you spooked?” I had to ask. 

She laughed. “Not at all. Why would I be spooked with my mother’s presence?”

I was a little spooked and intrigued. I’ve always wanted to see the dead. 

“Do you still see her?” I asked, hoping that I too would get lucky. 

“She was basically here because she was worried about me,” said the younger sister. “We spoke to a priest and he suggested that we have a special prayer service and more importantly, I had to stop grieving for her. It was my grief that was holding her back.”

“I didn’t want her to have to go through any more pain on my account,” she continued. “It was hard but I had to let her go.”

“And you haven’t felt her presence since?” I asked once again, almost as if I needed to confirm. 

“Her last set of hand-prints faded away on their own. That’s when I knew that she had left and was at peace.”

We didn’t speak for a while, each of us lost in our thoughts and probably in the past. One of the sisters decided to make tea, the other one brought out my favorite treats and we moved to the dining table, catching up on each others lives. 


As I got up to leave with promises that I would come see them again before I left the city, I looked at both sisters and found my aunt looking back at me through their eyes. It was then I realized that I didn’t need to see her apparition or hand-prints - she would always be around as a part of her daughters.