The Old Cemetery

I was getting late for home. I had spent more time than I should have at Gaurav’s place. My mother had asked me to come home before sunset, but I had not paid attention to her words. When I walked out my friend’s house, it was pitch dark outside. The road lay empty, occasioned only by stray dogs barking at the sound of my footsteps, as I hurried home.

Gaurav’s parents were away for a few days. Two days ago, Gaurav’s father had received a message from his younger brother living in the village, that their mother was very ill. The following day Gaurav’s father and mother rushed to the village, to take care of her. Before leaving, they had instructed the house-maid to take care of the daily chores.

The following Sunday after Gaurav’s parents had left for the village, I got a phone call from my friend, in the morning. He asked me to come to his place. Initially, I thought it might be related to some assignment. But, that was not the scene. Gaurav had planned something. Something, I was equally interested in.

We settled in the drawing room and made all the necessary connections. Cross-legged we sat on the floor and pressed hard the video game controller buttons. Gaurav’s parents had gifted him the video game on his seventeenth birthday, only a few months back. I too longed for one, but my parents had told me to wait until next month.

Alone in the street, I tried to cover the ground as fast as I could. I had lied to my mother that I was going to my friend’s place to study. Having lied and now being late, I needed to reach home as early as possible. I stopped underneath a street-lamp. In the flickering light, I looked at my left wrist. The hour hand was closing number eight on the watch’s dial. Guilt and weariness crept in. I thought, ‘if I take the usual road, it would take another one hour to reach home, but what if I take the shortcut through the Old Cemetery…..?’

The shortcut through the cemetery took less than fifteen minutes to reach home. But, the thought of it gave me creepy feelings. I had heard horrid stories from my elderly neighbors about it. They said, it served as sleeping ground for the long dead early European settlers and tea planters, during the day. And, at night, they rose from their graves and hunted upon the living, who dared to tread in their territory.

Finding no choice, I ran down the slope. My legs felt as heavy as lead, and my heart pumped extra liters of blood through my veins. I ran as fast as I could, but slowed down, when the ground beneath my feet turned uneven. As I hurried past the tombstones, the neighbors’ words came floating and added to my discomfort. But, to my surprise no invisible hands reached for my legs and neither did I hear anything unusual, except for the creaking of crickets.

When I had neared the cemetery gate, I heard a loud voice behind my head. I stopped dead silent. A chill ran down my spine.

‘Hey, what are you doing here?’ cried an angry voice.

Out of fear, I stammered, ‘I am sorry. I am late for home, please let me go,’ ‘Out I say,’ He commanded.

I ran for my life out of the cemetery gate, and stood still on the steps leading to the road leading to my house. When I turned my head in fear, I saw a group of men sitting in a circle, holding something close to their lips, from the ends of which clouds of smoke rose and melted into the air. I realized, they were a band of drug addicts, more creepy than the cold bones lying in the graves. I started running again, and breathed a sigh of relief only when my house was visible in the distance.