Kundan | Nani Ka Ghar | A True Horror Village Story

"My husband, Mahendra Chaudhary, died five years ago, but I still miss him so much. People tell us that we must forget the ones who depart from us, but I can't forget my husband. After all, we only forget the ones who never come back. But my husband will be returning very soon. I will take him back—not because I want to, but because I have to, for my family and for this village. I have to take Mahendra Chaudhary back to the human world, or nothing will be left.".

But this is not an easy job. The technique I am employing to get him back cannot be told to anyone, particularly not to my family. They would not be able to comprehend it, and even if they could, they would not be able to manage it. At first, even I did not know what I was doing, but with time, I realized everything. Nevertheless, the other people cannot be taught this ritual—it is too complex for them to understand. This is why I did not tell anyone my method and have been performing the ritual alone on each Amavasya (new moon).

But since my older daughter and her son, Kundan, have arrived here from the city, everything has changed. My family has begun suspecting me—and the reason for this is none other than my grandson, Kundan. Even though he is so young, he is full of questions—questions that do not simply try to know something but attempt to understand the depths of it.

One day, he approached me and said, 'Nani, what did Nanu (grandfather) do?'

'What do you mean?' I asked.

'I mean, what was his job?'

'What are you saying? He worked in the fields, of course,' I told him.

'But he was a landlord, wasn't he?' Kundan asked.

'Well, yes, but the villagers didn't know he was a landlord,' I explained.

'Why not?' he questioned.

'Because there was no official landlord in the village. Your Nanu referred to himself as the landlord.'

'But why?' he asked with interest. 'Was there a reason?'

'Yes, there was a reason,' I confessed. 'He wanted to save this village.'

'Save it? From whom?' Kundan questioned.

'From those city folk who wanted to take it over,' I explained.

'Who were they?' he asked.".

'I don't know. But those individuals wanted to drive all the villagers away from here,' I explained.

'Why?' he asked again.

'No one knows. At first, we thought they just wanted to capture the villagers' fields. But we were mistaken. They didn't want only the fields—they wanted the whole village,' I said.

'Why would they want that?' Kundan asked.

We don't know. They behaved as if some treasure lay hidden beneath this village. Gradually, some of the villagers fell into their trap. They were lured with money and sold their fields. We didn't know; half of the village was vacant. That's when your Nanu assumed charge of the village."

"What did he do?" Kundan asked with interest.

On the night when we came to know that half the village was sold, we were very anxious. Your Nanu declared, "I shall not let this village be snatched from us." He began to gather the villagers, telling them that by selling their land for a small amount of money, they were making a foolish decision. He became the leader the village required—the landlord who was a guardian of everybody's welfare," I said.

'So did Nanu rescue the village?' Kundan asked.

'No. He died before he could do anything. That's why the village is still under threat,' I said.

'How did Nanu die suddenly?' Kundan asked.

'It just occurred,' I said, not wanting to discuss the matter.

'What happened to him?' Kundan persisted.

I finally confessed, 'It occurred in the garden.'

'The garden? But it's risky, isn't it?' Kundan asked.

'At that time, there were no such rumors about the garden. It was just an ordinary place,' I explained.

'What happened to him there?' he asked.

'He was attacked,' I revealed.

'By what?' Kundan asked, alarmed.

'By bats,' I said. 'When we found him, his body had no blood left, and dozens of bats were stuck to him. It was the first time something like this happened in the village.'

Kundan did not inquire anything more after that, but his queries reminded me of the queries I had made to myself upon Mahendra Chaudhary's demise. I never got any explanations to those questions, and that's when my ritual started—the ritual to make my husband return to the human world.

I learned from my readings that when a person dies, his or her soul is still attached to the human world until the ashes are submerged. When the ashes are submerged, the soul leaves the world forever. That's why I never submerged my husband's ashes. I knew that was the only means of bringing him back.

I also learned that the person would come back based on the cause of their death. If one died as a result of loss of blood following an attack by animals, their resurrection would involve human blood. Additionally, the ritual would have to be carried out during the night of Amavasya.

On the subsequent Amavasya, I put human blood in a pot and mixed my husband's remains in it. I boiled the contents until steam started emanating, and at the conclusion of the ritual, the fire burning at the bottom of the pot died down by itself. I had done everything in accordance with the ritual, the ritual said, but I didn't know whether I had succeeded or not. I waited for the following Amavasya to discover the outcome.

On the next Amavasya, while I was near the hut, the door of the hut swung open by itself. As I entered, the door closed tightly behind me. That's when I knew that my husband's soul had stepped into the hut. Yet, I still did not know how to speak with him. So many questions floated in my mind—was he able to see me? Listen to me? Talk to me?

For a long time, I couldn't find the answers to these questions. But now. now, I have all the answers."

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