CoffeeShop Blues
That Inevitable Truth
(A True Ghost Story)
I was about the age of twelve when I had taken a trip to Delhi along
with my parents. My father had a boyhood friend named Mr. Roy
who had a grand mansion-like apartment in Delhi we used to stay at.
As far as I recollect, the city was really beautiful. The capital
of India, nearly fifteen years before, was far more posh, clean and
ultramodern than contemporary Kolkata, where I resided.
I visited almost all of the ornate, pristine monuments of Delhi
like the Qutub Minar, Red Fort, and the other citadels created by the
ancient rulers of India. Those places of extreme historical
importance seemed to enchant me. I began to form a strong penchant
for this place.
The first day at that magnificent apartment turned out quite drab.
After our return from the tourist spots on the second day my head
began to reel and fatigue almost numbed my arms and legs. With
blinking eyes and deep sleep fishing in my eyelids, I almost gobbled
my dinner and jumped onto my bed. My room was adjacent to that
of my parents.
I curled myself in cozily on the white pillows and matching
bedspread, and fell fast asleep. A sudden gust of chilly wind from
the open window rattled my spine and I sat up bewildered, staring
blankly at the curtains; swishing to and fro. It was early November
and the weather was pleasant. I wondered about the sudden cold
wind this early in the season. I mused on the whereabouts of the cold
breeze but finding no clue fell asleep.
The amber sunlight perforated through the glass windows and
swept over my eyes. I woke up bleary. After brushing my teeth and
having my breakfast, I again went out to rummage the centers of
attraction and spotted a number of forts. It was the third day and as
usual after my routine dinner my muscles began to ache, and I fell
asleep.
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