The Doll

Let me clarify one thing in the beginning. I don’t believe in ghosts. Period. At least till now. Now I am not sure. Confused? Listen to my story first then tell me what you think.

It was a hot, stuffy day to travel and poor me had to obey the orders of my superiors and travel to check on our factory at Midnapore. I had reserved a compartment on the night train and was looking forward to a good night's sleep.  The train pulled in and I settled into my seat. I had just kicked off my shoes when I noticed someone sitting at the far end. ‘Oh no,’ I muttered under my breath. ‘I thought I’d have the place to myself.

“Na Babu, I am too tired to talk. You rest. I will just sit here. I will be getting down at Balia so I will not disturb you for long.”, the person spoke in a cultured tone. I smiled, a little embarrassed. ‘Sorry,it’s just that I’ve been traveling so much, I was really looking forward to some sleep. But why sit in the dark? Please make yourself comfortable. Would you like some tea? My servant has packed enough for two. We can share.’ I opened the hamper with a sense of relief. Lallan Da truly is a gem; he always knows what I like. There was a neatly packed meal, fresh fruit, a box of soft sondesh, and a big thermos of hot tea. Absolute bliss.

The gentleman had a cloth bag on his shoulders which he gently took off and kept in the corner. He sat down opposite me and gratefully took the tea cup. “Thank you.I will not say no to tea. I am Partho Roy Choudhury from Balia. I am the last of the Zamindars from there. I have been roaming the world but I now realise that I will only be at peace in Balia.”

The man looked exhausted. Not just physically but as if he was carrying a huge weight on his shoulders. He had a deep voice but a strange cough marred his sentences. He was dressed in a white dhoti kurta which had seen better days. The only thing he carried was the patchwork cloth bag and there was something sticking out of it.

“You must have seen a lot of things in your travels. Can you tell me of your travels and why are you going back now?”, I asked. He sighed and said, “I have travelled everywhere to try and ease my burden but I don’t think I am destined for peace. No till I have repented and she has forgiven me. Till then, I must go on.”

I was curious. “What could have happened to make you miserable?”. He looked at the cloth bag and whispered, “I have a burden that I can not put down.”, then he asked “Do you want to know my story? Listen, maybe retelling the story will be my repentance.”

He hitched up his dhoti and sat cross legged. “ I am Partho Roy Choudhry, the last remaining Zamindar of Ballia and with me my family ends. I was studying in Kolkata but my parents lived in Ballia. I am the only son so I was loved and maybe pampered too. My family lived in Rajabadi. It was built by my grandfather, Bijoy Roy Choudhury and was a big rambling place. When I was kid, all my cousins, aunts, uncle, Pishima, Thakuma, and all stayed there. We were a big joint family but today there is no one apart from me.”

He was quiet for some time, then he continued, “I loved Kolkata and had no intention of coming back to Balia but life had other plans. My father fell sick and I had to come back and become the zamindar. My father wanted me to marry the daughter of his old friend from Burdwan. Before I could think, I was married to Kumud.”

He started coughing badly and had to pause. Believe me, when I say that I saw a movement from the bag in the corner. I was not sure and Partho was fine after a while. He continued, “ My wife Kumud was a tiny , shy solemn girl. She had beautiful big eyes and was always quite quiet. I had not seen her before the marriage and only saw her face when she came home. Though I was not happy to be married, it was hardly her fault. I decided to become her friend first and husband later. She was very young and had no idea how to take care of such a big house as the rajbadi with so many different people. I was also slowly learning the ropes of zamindari and could hardly spare time for her. Maybe I should have given her time.” he mused.

“Kumud had a doll with her, given by her Pishima. It was a rag doll but it was her prized possession. Kumud carried it with her everywhere. She would whisper to her in our room. I knew that she told the doll everything. What Pishima said or what the maid had said…everything. I told her to talk to me about her fears but she would look at me with fear and say that I would not believe her. I always felt as if the doll was listening. Her eyes seemed to follow others and I can swear I had heard the doll breathing.” He looked at me to see if I believed it. “No , I am not crazy. Here, let me show you something.” Saying that he took out a ragged doll from the bag. It looked old and worn but I can swear it looked as if it could hear everything that was being said.

I was taken aback, Partho smiled and said, “You see, she watches. Anyways, to continue, Kumud was becoming quieter and quieter day by day. I knew she had no one to speak to in the house. Ma, Pishima, Boudi had left the working of the household to her and she was not adept at it. I was fine if my lunch was not served in time or that my clothes were not ironed on time but the others were not that forgiving. I should have said something. I should have stopped them taunting her but I myself was head over heels in the Zamindari work. I just did not have the time. All excuses, I know,” he said looking at the doll, “but I seriously did not know the effect on kumud. Believe me, I would have done something had I known”.

“Every month, I had to go away for a week to the collectorate at Kolkata to submit reports of the zamindari. Every month , I would buy some ornaments for Kumud. I thought that giving her jewelry would compensate for my absence. Kumud never said anything. She did not complain nor did she acknowledge the jewels. I just thought that she was shy. I should have asked her but…” he paused and sighed.“Maybe if I had asked her the tragedy would not have happened.”

“Tragedy,” I said, “What happened?”

“One day, I met my college friend, Rashbehari Ganguly in Kolkata. He had lost his father recently and his house was mortgaged. He asked me if I could help him. I brought him home and gave him a job in the office. Rashbehari had always been a social person and soon he had become a darling of the house. Everyone, from Pishima to the servants loved talking to him. Ma would make sweets for him too. Kumud was still shy but Rashbehari took it upon himself to get Kumud talking. I was always busy but I was happy that now Kumud had someone to talk to. I should have stopped her. I knew what a scoundrel Rashbehari was. I should not have got him home.” He paused and tilted his head as if listening to something, “Yes, yes. I know. All excuses. I am to blame.” 

“Then one time, rains failed and the crops were ruined. All my investments turned wrong. I lost a lot of money. I had to sell off some lands but nothing helped. I was drowning in debt. The rajbadi was the only thing left now. That and Kumud’s ornaments. I spoke to Rashbehari and to Ma and Pishima. I told them that I had decided to sell off Kumud’s jewelry to pay off the debts. They agreed. I should have asked Kumud. I did not. That was my mistake.”

He sighed and looked out into the night. The train whistled as it crossed the bridge. “That day, I went to Kumud in the afternoon. She was sitting at the window brushing her hair and talking to the doll. I told her that I needed all her jewelry. She looked startled and asked me why. I did not answer. How could I tell her that I had lost everything. I just told her that she did not understand. All I wanted from her were the jewels. I told her that I had already spoken to Ma and Pishima and they said that jewels were an asset to be sold when in trouble.” 

“She said that I had given it to her so they were her property. I was so angry that I just slapped her and shouted that I had given the jewels to her so ideally they were my property and she had no right to them. She was stunned and her doll fell from her hands. She did not cry nor did she shout. She just stood there. I stomped off. I should have explained.” he said.

“Anyway, I had to go out soon enough. I don’t really know what happened. Gobind Kaka said later that Kumud was very restless. She wore all her jewelry and sat on the bed. She refused to come down and when Ma ordered her to come out, she shut the door on her. Gobind kaka said that Ma was very angry. She complained that this trouble, the failing rains, the drought, the bad investments were all Kumud’s doing. She had brought ill luck. Kumud called Gobind Kaka and asked him to get Rashbehari.”

“ I should not have slapped her. It was my fault that she turned to Rashbehari. Kumud told Rashbehari that she had decided to go back to her parents house. She said that I did not need her and she was tired of this big house where everything was her fault. Rashbehari agreed to take her. That evening, Kumud wore all her jewelry and stepped out with Rashbehari on the boat that he had got. When I came back, Gobind Kaka told me that Kumud was gone. I rushed out just as the rains swept in. I called for her in the pouring rain. The river had turned angry and the waves looked terrible. 

The boatmen told me that Rashbehari had taken the boat out himself. I wanted to follow but in that gathering darkness, I had no idea where to go. I sat there on the ghat, cursing myself, weeping and waiting for the storm to subside. Then, just as the dawn broke, I saw something on the waters. This doll came to me bobbing on the waters. Her eyes looked at me, searing me with contempt. I dragged her out and with her came Kumud’s anklet. I rushed about the ghat calling kumud’s name but nothing. No sound, just silence and this doll’s moving eyes.”

“I came back to the Rajbadi dragging my wet, exhausted self. That night, I was in terrible pain. My fever was high and I felt as if something was choking me. Some kind of weight on my chest but I just could not open my eyes. I felt someone treading quietly across the room and I swear I heard Kumud’s quiet voice but nothing. No one knew where Kumud and Rashbehari had gone. After a fortnight, my fever broke but I was still weak. I asked Gobind Kaka to take Ma and Pishima to the village. I just wandered the great house looking for something but what I don’t know. I too started to talk to the doll but she never answered me. Then one day, the police came. They had found a body near the marshes. I went with them just praying that it should not be Kumud. The face was disfigured but I recognised the anklet. I had its pair with me. It was Kumud. The police said that Rashbehari had also been caught and he had confessed to killing Kumud for her jewels.”

I sat there looking at Partho. His anguish and despair was very visible on his face. “Then, what happened?” I said softly.

“Then, things got strange. I kept seeing Kumud everywhere. She looked at me with anger, sometimes with sorrow. Her doll kept me company. Everywhere I turned , it was there. Sitting quietly on judgement. Everyone had left the big house. I was the only undead person there. I, the doll and Kumud’s shadow. I knew I had to get away. So one day, I just picked the bag and left. I thought I was alone but the doll has never left me. It takes me where I want to go. I think it will take me to my grave too.” laughed Partho. 

Just then the train stopped at Balia station. Partho took the doll and his bag, “Thank you for sharing your meal with me. If you come here some other time, look me up. The rajabadi is still there, maybe I will meet you once more.” Partho got down. I was not sure what to think of the story I heard. Maybe the guilt that he felt made him see something which wasn’t there but even I had seen the doll’s eyes move and had heard quiet sighs as Partho told his story. 

Some weeks later, as I was working late in the office, I remembered our clerk Madhu Chand Nabi belonged to Ballia. I called him to ask if he knew about Partho and the people at Rajabadi. Madhu Chand said,”Yes Sir. Partho Roy Choudhury was the zamindar.” “Was,”I stuttered, “what do you mean?” “Two weeks ago, there was a big fire at the Rajabadi. The house burnt down completely. Partho Babu was at home. He died in that fire. Nothing remains in that house, just a doll which was found sitting on the desk in Partho Babu’s study. It was the only thing which was not burnt.” 

I was dumbfounded. Do you think it makes any sense? How did the fire start? How did the doll survive? I have no answers. Do you?