Shadows In The Dark and Other Stories Read online

That was my usual wake-up time.

  That day, while going towards the gate for the pickup, I thought of asking the people in the office to switch on the lights in the compound. There was a lock on the office doors. Which was understandable given that there was no one in the complex to manage.

  I saw the watchman, for the first time, the next morning while returning. He got up on seeing me and waved his hand at me. Draped in a thick woolen shawl and all I could see was his silhouette in the fog.

  “Namaste sahib!” he said.

  “What is your name?” I asked.

  “Puran saab, Puran Joshi,” he said.” I am from Nepal; I am the watchman in this building.”

  “I am Hari. I live in 803,” I said and went in.

  Next day was a holiday so I was able to put in some extra hours of sleep. By the time, I got up it was eight in the evening, I felt hungry and went down. The watchman was not there. His rickety steel chair was guarding the building in his place. A short distance from the compound, there was a small roadside hotel. I had a leisurely dinner along with some truck drivers and a few beggars. By the time, I returned it was around ten in the night and there was a thick fog covered up the building. Puran was there on his chair and waved at me as I went by.

  I was not used to sleeping at night. My biological clock tuned to the US hours, I tried reading a book instead. After a few pages, I threw it away and dozed off.

  My sleep was not peaceful. Strange noises and I also heard footsteps as is someone was running. I could hear people talking, someone screaming, and yelling. In the background, I could hear the sounds of a baby crying. My eyes opened and as I switched on my cell, I could see it was twelve in the night. Looked around for a few seconds, I was not able to figure out where I was. Then I realized that this was my first night in the new house. The silence was deadening. Nothing moved or stirred, all that I could see was the sky through the open window dotted with millions and millions of stars. It was beautiful and peaceful as I lay there on the bed, watching the sky.

  Then I heard the sound of a baby crying. The sound was coming from somewhere close. There was also the sound of a woman’s voice. She was singing.

  ‘That is weird,’ I thought. ‘I was told I was the only occupant in this building.’

  I got up, went to the window, and looked down. I could see the watchman, sitting motionless, bundled up in his shawl. The woman’s sound was coming from the adjoining flat. I put my ear to the wall.

  “Yes, it is definitely coming from there,” I said to myself. “The neighbors must have moved in.”

  I opened the front door and look at the flat next to mine. Sure enough, the lock was missing.

  ‘Hmm, so that is the end of my peace and solitude,’ I thought, closed the door and went back to sleep.

  Next morning, as I went out for breakfast, I saw all the other flats on my floor locked.

  ‘Strange people,’ I thought. ‘I hope they don’t make much noise during the daytime'.

  I need not have worried for there was not a sound during the day as I slept peacefully. That evening on my way out, I saw Puran back at his post.

  “The neighbors in 802 have come,” I said.

  He nodded his head but said nothing.

  The shift system for the Christmas holidays started. Gaurav divided the teams into two groups. I was in Group ‘A’ while Marvin was in ‘B’. We had to come on alternate days. The problem with such changes was that they messed up my sleep cycle. I tried to sleep at night as well but then the body has its own limitations. It refuses to rest more than required! For such emergencies, I kept some e-books and video files, on my laptop.

  The first night, halfway through a novel, I heard the neighbors again. It was the baby, and it was crying. Its wails echoed in the house. It was a good thing I was not trying to sleep. The mother was trying to comfort it but the sound of its crying kept getting louder. I tried to distract my mind and concentrate on the novel. It was one of Alistair Maclean’s classics, but the soulful sobbing of the baby made it impossible for me to continue. From the sound of its crying, it was in a lot of pain, and the mother was unable to stop it.

  I got up and went to the door. Thought for a minute and then opened it. I thought that as a neighbor the least I could do, was to offer some help. I went up to 802 and knocked at the door.

  No one responded. I knocked again. The baby’s cries were now echoing in the entire passage. I knocked again, and the door swung open. It was dark inside the house. The sound was coming from the bedroom. I hesitated. It was not right to enter someone else’s house and that too at night, uninvited.

  “Hello, I stay in 803. Is there anything I can help with?” I asked. I had to shout to be audible. Suddenly, the crying stopped. There was absolute silence everywhere. I stood there in the doorway, in the dark and there was no sound. I could hear myself breathe in that passage.

  “Hello, I stay in 803. Does anyone need any help here?” I repeated my question, this time softly. There was no response. I looked all around me. The only light coming was from my open door.

  I could have sworn that I had heard the voices coming from the house. The sounds of the baby crying and the woman consoling it, but now all that I saw was the inky darkness in the room. The windows in 802 were open and through it, I could see the sky outside. I ran my hands over the wall, found the light switches, and turned them on. Nothing happened. I flipped all the switches, but none of them worked. I stood there for a few minutes, not sure what to do and then returned to my flat.

  After I closed the door, I just stood there, trying to understand what had happened. For a moment, I thought of going back, and checking the house again.

  “What the hell, it is not my problem,” I said to myself and went to the bedroom. I was too tired to read, and straightaway went to sleep.

  The next morning I woke up around ten. I went downstairs and walked towards the complex office. The door was open, and the two men were sitting there having tea, this time they saw me coming and did not jump up,

  “Has anyone come to stay in 802?” I asked.

  The men looked at each other and then at me.

  “What happened Saab?” both spoke together.

  “Nothing, it was just that I thought I heard some sounds yesterday night.”

  “What sounds?” One of them asked.

  “I don’t know. A woman singing, a baby crying. Not sure, I thought someone had moved in.”

  They just stood there staring at me with their mouths open.

  “Saab, you should not have come here,” the older man said.

  “Keep quiet,” the other man abruptly cut him off. “Saab, we don’t know anything. We just come here during the day and close this room at five in the evening.”

  “ Ok, I must have dreamt all that, anyway switch on some lights on the road, so that I do not fall into the ditches while come back from office,” I said.

  I went outside to the hotel and ordered breakfast.

  “When did work on this complex start?” I asked the hotel owner. There were no other customers in the morning.

  “The work had started some two or three years back. Then it stopped,” the owner said. It was a small hotel.He was also the cook and the dishwasher there.

  “Stopped! Why do you say that?”

  “I have not seen you here before”

  “I am new here, but why was the work stopped?”

  “Saab! Don’t you read the newspapers? It was in all the papers. Even some TV channels had covered it.”

  “What was in all the newspapers?”

  “The suicides! It was horrible.”

  “Suicides? What suicides?”

  “Saab, you are not eating. Is there a problem?”

  He noticed the untouched food on my plate.

  I took a bite from it and continued, “I am living in that building. When did all this happen?”

  “Which building are you talking about?” the owner asked.

  “There is only one building in that
complex. I stay on the eight floor there.”

  The hotel owner dropped a glass he was washing. He ran over to my table and grabbed my hand.

  “Saab, leave the house. Don’t go back there! That is where the mother and child died. The damn building is haunted,” he was almost shouting now. He had gripped my hand tightly, and it hurt.

  “Let go of my hand!” I said and pulled it loose. “What are you talking about?”

  “Saab, hasn’t anyone told you anything about the building? About the shadows in the dark?”

  “What shadows in the dark are you talking about? I needed a place to stay and this was available. I didn’t ask any questions and straight away moved in,” I said.

  “You should have. Listen to what I have to say. Work on that building completed a year back. The first family that moved in was a young couple. They had a one-year-old baby - a boy. The father was working in some company in Singapore. Two weeks after moving in the father had to return as his leave got over. Her parents came over to stay with them. They were there for a few months and then the husband returned. Do you want some tea?”

  “What, no.. ok give me a glass. Then what happened? ”

  The owner poured me a cup full of hot tea and continued with his story, “Well; no one knows exactly what happened after that. Her parents returned to their village as the husband was back. Some say that when the husband had confessed of an affair in Singapore there was a huge argument. Some other said that he doubted the child'd paternity. The point is they had an argument. Finally, the husband walked out. The exact details after that are not clear, but what everyone agrees