THE HOUSE

It is not a ghost story. It is also not a story about a haunted house. But this is a story about a house which saw innumerable happenings, bad happenings. That’s the reason I am provoked to write about it.


Her name was Sanjukta, or Sanjana…I do not remember properly now. Probably because it is long ago, and I was mere a child then, or may be no one called her by that name. She was, however called by her neighbors as Jane, and by the others like us, as Jane aunty. Today, as after many years I am going to write about her, I feel like calling her Jane. And the rest of the story, we will call by her name.

Jane was, however, a widow. In fact, she had no one to live with her. She was alone, - perfectly alone, living in the corner of our colony, in a very old house, the same house, indicating the landmark of our colony. Behind it, was the vast old graveyard separating the next colony from ours. Many years have passed, the graveyard is not there, the house is not there, but still I remember some things about it. And that is what I am going to tell you today.


It was a strange, two storied house, with huge walls covering it, and separating it from the nearby narrow lanes. As it aged above hundred years, wild bushes came up everywhere in it. There were merely two or three flowering plants in front of the house, and the rest were all bushes. There was a banana and palm grove on the right side of it, which was prohibited for many years because of thieves and men who used to strangle travelers and rob them. The house remained isolated from the rest of the world, and it seemed that nothing can match its depth, its secrecy and its loneliness. After evening, it seemed a black ghost stood at the corner of our colony, ready to take on all of us. The neighbors, we, everyone feared about Jane living in that house. But she was in fact, had a point not to fear in living in that house. But we will come to that later.

The house, in fact, had a history. And that is why we avoided it.


The house was built long ago in 1901, under the name of ‘Mohini Mansions’. Ram Shankar Roy with his wife Mohini Devi started to live there with their old servant Divakar. In 1910, the couple had their first child as a son named Rup Prasad. For the first time, Mohini Mansion filled with joy. Ram Shankar was so ebullient that he distributed sweets all over the village. Things started falling in pieces for them. But, good times never stay for a long time, and two years later, suddenly Mohini Devi was murdered in her own room. Enquiries ran and their servant Divakar was sent to the prison. But there were not much proof against him for the murder, and soon he was bailed.

The son of late Mohini Devi and Ram Shankar was now brought up by his father. In 1939, Rup Prasad got married and after four years, they had their second child as a son, named Rishi Kumar. When Rishi Kumar grew up, he sent his sister Devika away to grab the baton of Mohini mansions. By this time Rishi Kumar’s old grandfather Ram Shankar died and soon after him, Rup Prasad also passed away in consecutive heart attack. Rishi Kumar became one and only heir left of their family who could now control the mansion. Rishi Kumar wasn’t a person with good morals. He sold all the valuables of the house and went to another city. Mohini mansions remained alone without a master for the first time.

The next fifty five years remained unknown. The stories of the house were muttered often in the corners of the colony, but no one as such tried to find Rishi Kumar or his heir. Life went on smoothly enough for the people of the colony, and the neighbours started forgetting the fact that there was a family once living inside those huge walls and evil doors.

Then suddenly after fifty five years, on a morning, a young man and a woman took off from a rickshaw and opened the gate of Mohini Mansions. Now after so many years, they were the son and daughter-in-law of late Rishi Kumar, Raman and Jane. They were now the new owners of the house.



It was the first time we were seeing Jane. We were children of about eleven or twelve, and Jane and her husband were the first ones from the Mohini mansions whom we came to see.

Days started passing as they passed usually. Jane became one of our aunties in our colony within a few days. We used to play at the nearby ground and she would watch us playing from the rooftops of Mohini mansions. She herself didn’t have any children, so her heart would pour all the love and emotions to us. In the evening, as we would return home, she used to come down with bottles of water for everyone.

We grew up eventually. At sixteen, I was sent to a boarding school for further studies. I stayed there for six years. All these years, I kept myself busy in studies, writings, reporting to the newspapers with a dream of being a journalist. I finished my studies at twenty-one and came back to my birth place once again. This was the time I heard the worst news of our colony. Jane aunty had become a widow. An accident took her husband Raman’s life last year.

One again life went on. It was only the first time I realized the loneliness of Jane. She stopped coming in public. We used to her rarely at the social meetings and occasions. Towards evening, she would light up a lamp, and sit at the lone rooftops. Evenings used to spread its sheet all over the colony but that lamp would remain lit, which meant that Jane was still sitting lonely at the roof. We feared sometimes that she might commit suicide, but she didn’t do that. It seemed there was an old battle going on between her and the house. At one end, the house was consuming each and every person living, and on the other Jane was trying to prove it wrong by living in the house. Strange things became eccentric when she stopped coming in public all together.

By the time Mohini mansions was much too old, and the major portions of its rear part started to fall down. It was that part of the house where a hundred years ago servants’ rooms and store rooms used to be. Within the next monsoon, half of the Mohini mansion fell down, mostly being the rear part. It was then, Jane decided to reform the house, and within a few months, the rear part of the house was gone, mixing into the soil of the graveyards. The house was renamed as ‘House no. 64’.

Another year passed. I took up journalism and writing as profession. I started to move at places because of my reports and works. Meantime I heard that Jane was having an affair with someone back at our colony. I remained mystified as I finished my work at a place and came back once again. The rumor now I heard in my own ears. It was probably someone from another colony, who met Jane at somewhere, and in their first meeting, gave his heart to her. Neighbours said that he wanted to marry her, and persuaded, but Jane didn’t want to leave the house. She didn’t have any problems with the person but she also didn’t want to quit from the invisible battle, which was continuing between her and the house. Much to our amazement, the man admitted the fact, married Jane and started living in the house.

Now, after many years we thought that the curse of Mohini mansions will stay away from its inhabitants. We felt happy to see Jane happy and finding someone after many years. But it was only then, we were proven wrong.

It was hard for the rest of our colony to find out what was happening inside those huge walls of the house. Catastrophe was realised when at a fine morning people saw the man lying dead in front of the house. Family feud, this time took another life in Mohini mansion. Jane didn’t say a word in the whole process of funeral. And then she went back to the house, as silently as she came.

The next day, she ran away from the house saying nothing to a single soul.

I got a new job and left the colony too after a few years.


The house is still there. No one lives in it now. No one wants to take the curse what was started with the death of Mohini Devi. The last death of the house has occurred with the death of Jane’s second husband. Or may be it is waiting. May be it is waiting for another family, for another happy couple to strike its stroke ahead.


It was a strange, two storied house, with huge walls covering it, and separating it from the nearby narrow lanes….

-Nov'09