Rakesh, an insurance agent based in Chandigarh, had newly purchased the Yamaha FZ bike. His friend Bobby had come to stay with him for a night, and had to leave for Delhi in the morning. When Bobby got to know about the new bike, he urged him to take him on a ride to Kasauli, a hill-station in Himachal Pradesh. Acquiescing to the proposal, Rakesh called up his room-mate, Vishal, and a colleague, Prashant, to join them on another bike. The plan was fixed and they rolled off at 10 past 11 in the night.
Hardly 15 minutes had passed and they were cruising at a speed of 110 kmph on a six lane road. Rakesh and Bobby on one bike; and Vishal and Prashant on the other.
Suddenly Bobby shouted, “Watch out”, as another car at a very high speed appeared from a diversion and came directly in the way. Rakesh applied hard brakes, and the tires screeched and finally halted just making a fine escape. The journey continued and they entered the border of HP. The average speed started decreasing as it was a hilly terrain now. Riding through the gushing winds, they had already started feeling the chill, while they were not even half way through. The ascent had just begun.
Bobby had apprehended the rain, and so it came, though it was just a light drizzle. It was a cause of worry indeed, as in the hill stations it becomes very risky to ride a bike when it is raining, as the roads become slippery, and there is a fair chance that the riders might fall off the hill. They decided to stop for sometime and lit some cigarettes, which provided them some relief from cold. Luckily, after 10 minutes, the rain stopped and they started off again. 10km before Kasauli, they reached an unusual check-post. A guard appeared. Covered in a black shawl till his head, such that only his mouth was visible, he approached them with a stick in one hand and a lantern in another.
“Wait”, he said in a deep voice, ”What are you doing here at this hour?”
“Nothing much! We have an off tomorrow, so we came for a ride,” replied Rakesh.
“Return. Do it. Going further is no good. You should not stay here any more. Return at once.” There was a grave concern in that deep voice.
Vishal started mocking the guard and persuaded the others to move forward. “Its just 10km fellas! Nothings gonna eat us away!!”
Once again the engines came to life and they were on their way. Winds were gaining speed. It was getting colder. The dancing Deodars seemed to be performing some kind of a ritual in the misty darkness. Suddenly, a wailing female voice broke the silence. It seemed to be calling a name. And it was crystal clear. Vishal it was.
The glass of the headlights of Vishal’s bike shattered, and it was pitching dark. As he applied the brakes, the bike skid and fell. Vishal’s head hit on something sharp and hard. He fell unconscious. And the winds stopped. Lights of the bike were ‘on’ again. Prashant was fine and he managed to load Vishal on the backseat and decided with the other two to return. As the two bikes rode past the check-post, the guard was visible under the street light, walking with his head twisted at 180 degrees, and laughing aloud with blood stained teeth.
Unfortunately the story ends here, as my mother woke me up and I could not see the whole dream.
