That morning, the air of Chida was heavy with inquisitiveness. The secluded tiny hamlet that had nestled itself in the lap of a Himalayan valley, like a recluse hermit who chose not to be disturbed while it meditated amid a picturesque landscape, was buzzing with low murmurs. The curious villagers stood like alert meerkats surrounding a white Fortuner and a black Thar.
The Ambanis of Ambala- as they were famously called- Kukkars had just arrived at the outskirts of Chida, led by the patriarch of the family, Sartaj Kukkar. The man had been desperate for a long time to visit ‘sadda pind’ (my village) as he always referred to Chida; his ancestral land. He was accompanied by his wife Rupinder, son Tajinder and his newly wed wife Harjeet in their Fortuner. The black Thar, driven by their driver, carried their egos, basic amenities to combat inconsistent electricity, and to cater to their essential comforts.
“The girl seems to be a new bride,” the womenfolk gestured to each other looking at the bright red Amritsari chhoda (bangles) that Harjeet wore in her hands.
And the mayhem began. The headman with few other grave looking men arrived at the scene.
“You cannot enter the village unless that young couple promises to follow the rule of this land,” he said in the voice of Morgan Freeman; clear and authoritative.
The unquestioned law of Chida said that every newly married couple irrespective of where they belonged to must enter the periphery of it only after having spent a full night in an isolated hut outside the village.
“Is it mandatory?” Like, a law of this village?” Sartaj enquired.
“As mandatory as shouting ‘O-ho’ after singing the line ‘jinne Mera Dil luteya’,” the headman replied with a stern face.
Kukkars now understood the gravity of the matter. What they had been thinking as a silly ritual that could have been negotiated with, turned out to be an adamant law.
Harjeet lost her cool, “ and what if we don’t abide by this rule?”
“You must return to where you came from without being able to seek deva’s blessings. And face the aftermath henceforth. Nobody can avert his wrath,” said the headman curtly.
“What makes the rule so rigid?” Tajinder intervened.
“We believe that wandering lustful spirits get themselves attached to a new bride and groom. They are fascinated by their freshly solemnised nuptial ties,” explained the headman.
Rupinder rolled her eyes so high they were stuck in her upper eyelids for almost two minutes.
“Must be the spinsters of the ghost community..” Tajinder murmured.
Sartaj tried to exert his authority over the villagers, “you don’t know who we are..” he was cut short by a pressure on his shoulder. Rupinder ground her teeth, “stop behaving like Trump and let this strait of Hormuz open before something unpleasant happens.”
The truce was made, Sartaj and Rupinder stayed at a nearby homestay, while Harjeet and Tajinder went to the humble hut with solar powered lamps, batteries, powerbanks, pre cooked food and a bottle of sacred concoction provided by the villagers. The two were instructed to apply the ointment on their bodies to ward off any evil.
“This is atrocious! They could have built an attached washroom,” fumed Harjeet.
“Darling, it’s just a matter of a night. We’ll attend to nature’s calls in the middle of nature,” Tajinder grinned sheepishly.
The grin was to disappear soon.
A second round of peace talks ensued inside the hut. Tajinder was cajoling Harjeet that he would get her the latest Hermès bag and even accompany her to the night show of The Devil Wears Prada 2. He swore to God that the very next morning they would leave for Ambala.
Hills are like Labubu dolls; cute-looking from outside but covertly ominous during nights.
They had barely fallen asleep after battling with swarms of mosquitoes who delighted in feasting on some blue blood for the first time, then a thud woke them up. Something or someone’s curiosity had led it to inspect the hut from outside. The low growls and scratching of claws made their souls tremble.
They had heard that the valley was infested with spirits that loitered around like unemployed youth during the night hours.
“What.. could.. it .. beeee??” Harjeet shivered with fear like a freezing otter.
“Must be a bear. Ghosts do things like chhann chhann or he he he, sort of, no?” Tajinder tried to gulp his heart down his throat which was ready to leap out of his body and desert him already.
The two held each other tight and cursed the stars when they had decided to come to Chida. The rest of the night was spent evoking every known God and goddess, making hundreds of promises to bribe them if they were left alive that night.
At the first crack of dawn, Sartaj and Rupinder arrived to check on them.
“So proud of you both, puttar. Come, let’s seek deva’s blessings now and explore sadda pind together,” Sartaj was beaming with pride.
“Ji, papaji,” Tajinder agreed, like a teacher’s pet, avoiding eye contact with Harjeet.
Harjeet squinted her eyes, grimacing in disbelief, “Raghav Chaddha of the family!”
It’s very difficult to find loyalty now-a-days.
*****
P.S. jinne Mera Dil luteya’ is a Punjabi song that has mic drop where the singer shouts ‘o-ho’
Puttar- the way of addressing kids affectionately
