Sonnets of Spring Entry #6

[Note: Link to Sonnets of Spring. Entry is on topic #3]

-Nishit Asnani

“Hi, my ghost.

I had to talk to you since a long while. This is probably my best opportunity to have a clear and organized conversation with you. Read carefully and make a prompt decision about what you want to do after you’ve read this.

You came into my life three months back, when I had accidentally fallen off the Ganges Barrage. Water had engulfed me from all sides and I had lost consciousness. It was flowing ferociously and rupturing my insides, like many hands twisting and turning my internal organs. It took some time before I was pulled out, and brought back to consciousness, but those few minutes changed my life forever.

It was then that you were born.

I was restored to normalcy in a couple of days, or so I thought. Two days after the incident, I was cooking for me and my wife in my kitchen. When I clasped the kitchen knife for slicing cucumber, strange thoughts crossed my mind. You know what, I felt like stabbing myself with the piece of sharp metal that I had clutched tightly in my right hand. I controlled the urge and tried to forget the incident.

But it turned out that that was not an isolated incidence. Weird thoughts have occurred to me ever since, and have grown in intensity and frequency in the last one month. I was once gripped so strongly by the idea of crashing my car into an overloaded truck, that I nearly did it. I have often felt like jumping off the terrace of my house, or my office building, whenever I’ve had the opportunity. But I have resisted.

I had started to guess that there was a shadow lingering inside my mind. There had to be someone, or something, that was forcing my internal environment to turn violently against me. But I had to be sure.

Then an incident happened that left no shadow of doubt in my mind.

About ten days back, when I was standing at a bus station with my bag, a thought was slowly taking shape. I wanted to stand in the middle of the road. As the idea developed further, I left my bag and wandered towards the street. Even before I knew it, I was standing right at the centre of it, and a car was approaching me at a speed that could have been fatal, had I not stepped out of the way in the nick of time. I was sure then, that there is someone else residing inside my head.

So I did the most logical thing. I went to the best psychiatrist of the city, Miss Terry. I told her about my problem and what I thought about it. She listened patiently, and then told me what the whole affair was. The day when I had almost drowned, a part of my brain had died due to water logging in my veins. The death of those cells led to your birth, a half-formed ghost.

You had since tried to possess me, by influencing my thoughts, planting ideas in my brain and trying to kill me, so that you’d be freed from the boundaries of my body and would roam around, ready to take charge of a foreign soul. Since you had not formed properly, you didn’t have enough strength to leave my body yourself, and so you were trapped. But over time, your influence has grown, which shows that you have grown too. All you need is a single event to free you. You want me to die. But I will dominate you. I’ve written it down and keep looking at it to remind myself of the fact.

But this is where you are mistaken. Miss Terry has told me that my death would not free you. It would rather kill you, since you are midway between a ghost and a real soul. My soul may still survive, and if it does, I will live in peace ever after.

She told me to write a letter, to convince you to leave my soul before you finish reading it. Since you are a half soul, and can influence my thoughts, I, as a full formed soul, can also influence you. I just have to talk to you in a clear language and tell you systematically and in an organized manner what I want from you. What better way to do it than a letter? The mind understands better if it has to read a well written text, rather than when it has to interpret half formed thoughts. I have tried my best to let you know what I know about you and what I am going to do.

I see that you haven’t changed your mind. I will have to destroy you now.

You’ve irked me for far too long. Have a sad journey to hell.

Take care,

Your Ghost.”


A report was found in the office of Mr. Dilip Chaturvedi, a day later. It was apparently about the cause of his death, written by a psychiatrist:

Dilip’s death is a big blow to his family, and to the society at large. He died under mysterious circumstances whose true nature can only be guessed, and not established by the present means.

He had escaped death three months back, when he had fallen off the Barrage, but he could not escape a ghost. The death of a part of his mind gave rise to a half formed ghost who has inhabited his body since then, and can be accounted for his death.

The police handed me a letter for examining the mentality of the deceased, and this is what it had to convey. Dilip had a ghost living inside him, alongside his own soul. This ghost was bound by the physical barrier of its host’s body, because it was in fact its own body. It was desperate for an escape. Although it tried to plant ideas into Dilip’s own soul to kill himself, the latter resisted and lived, despite its best efforts.

I saw a few bits of paper lying in the dustbin of Dilip’s living room. One of them read, “I will dominate you.” It was apparently written by his soul to remind himself that he will eventually dominate the ghost. But when I read the letter again, I was convinced that I was going in the wrong direction. Dilip could not have remembered what he had felt once he was unconscious under water.

The ghost came up with the idea to convince Dilip’s soul to commit suicide, and leave an escape route for it. It had grown in influence over the months, and was strong enough to motivate Dilip’s body to write a letter, addressing the ghost itself, presumably from the real soul.

The ghost knew that nothing could have influenced a soul better than a well organized letter that it reads to itself.

The ghost told the events as if it was the real soul, and convinced the latter that trying to kill itself was the only way to kill the ghost. It invented a psychiatrist, whose name sounds like a mystery, and used her fictional advice to add authority to its words.

Finally, the ghost won and Dilip’s soul was convinced that it was the ghost inside his body, and not the other way round. So he jumped off the window of his office room and set the ghost free.

I convey my condolences to the family of the deceased. May his soul rest in peace.

Ghosts don’t leave unsolvable mysteries.

(Miss Terry) Chaturvedi

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