This is a true story. Believe it or not, it happened to me. It happened during the fag end of the last century when I was 20 years younger than now. Was it destiny or fate — I have no answer. But I know why I was there and I also know who called me there. It was a colleague of mine struggling to complete her doctoral dissertation for submission to the university as only a handful of days remained.

“I’m wrestling with my thesis. Can you come home to give the finishing touches? God bless you for this,” said Jaya from the other end of the landline.
“Sure. Shall I make it around six in the evening today since it’s already five,” I said.

“Alright but have dinner with me since there is nobody at home,” she replied.

“You mean no disturbance? Well, Well! I’ll be there. But I am not sure about having dinner with you. You know my preferences for food and you can’t cook anything of the sort that suits my palate,” I said.

“We will see about that. Come sharp at six,” Jaya’s voice was very stern as she banged the receiver on to its cradle.

I could make it well before six as Jaya’s house was less than three kilometres from mine. Yet, I started a bit early for I had to pass through a cross-country road. To say that it is only an excuse for a road won’t amount to a lie, and definitely on a ten year-old two-wheeler, the path is bound to rattle the driver’s bones.

Somewhere in the middle of the path was a threshing ground, which was usually busy with working men and women, threshing the yield, winnowing, segregating, and bagging the paddy in sacks. It being the cow-dust hour, I could hear the chirping sparrows, cawing crows, and occasionally a crowing cock or a cackling hen rushing to the tree-tops for their night’s shelter.

I was feasting my eyes on the beautiful and lovely scene that Mother Nature had created and I was all smiles when I knocked at the door.

Jaya opened the door as if she was quietly awaiting the knocker to sound.
“Come in. We should be able to finish the work within three or four hours,” she said in a hurry and disappeared into the kitchen. When she emerged out of it she was holding a cup of streaming hot black tea with a dash of lemon.

As the cup changed hands, I asked her, “Huh! How do you know what I like?”
“Come on! Am I not your colleague for the last 10 years? You may not know that I am one of your fans and I like your ghost stories very much. I silently admired all your actions and deeds and I know your likes and dislikes,” she said lowering her head shyly.

“Very much like my wife. She too loves my ghost stories,” I replied.
Sitting with a thud beside me on the cushioned sofa, as soft as the south wind, she brought out her thesis and began to read page after page, sometimes very fast but most of the time too slowly.

“You play the slow movement superbly,” I remarked, indicating that I would be able to concentrate with ease.

“Okay. I’ll slow down. But don’t blame me for sitting all night and don’t ever call me slowpoke,” she said with a mischievous smile.

As she was reading aloud, I was making some corrections, which she graciously accepted. As we completed the fourth chapter, the wall clock struck ten.

“Let’s stop this big bore of a thesis for a while and have our dinner,” saying, she stood up and pulled me up by my shirt sleeves.

“What do you have for me?”

“Chappatis and mutton curry, specially prepared for you. It’s ready on the table. Come.”

By the time we resumed work, nearly 50 minutes of that night vanished.

“Don’t tell me to hurry up for if I do, you will lose track of my words,” Jaya said. Her whole body gave a slight quiver.

“Only two chapters remain and I will listen to them before I leave,” I said.
When I sighed with relief, Jaya banged her thesis shut with a deep sigh.

I stood up and said, “Fine. God bless you. Submit the thesis to the university as early as you can and good luck.”

“Are you leaving me at this hour? It is half-past-one. Sleep here on the sofa and by day break you can leave,” she said in a cajoling voice.

I smiled but perhaps did not look sufficiently impressed.

“It is already too late. My wife will be sitting on the balcony, intently watching the speeding two wheelers,” I reasoned.

“And what excuse are you brewing in your mind to escape from her wrath?” she inquired.

“She is a very understanding wife and I have already told her I am helping you with your thesis.”

“You are a really loyal husband. You should go then,” she said.

I walked down the short hall to the main door with Jaya following me.

As soon as I kick-started my two-wheeler, Jaya said in a hushed voice, “You are the real knight at arms we read about in English Literature as you are always ready to help women in trouble. You are my saviour, good night.”

My vehicle began to carry me and after a few seconds I craned my neck to see if she was still there waving at me. But poor Jaya! The high bushes near her house had swallowed her up.

Up in the sky heavenly eyes here and there twinkled. The moon was playing hide and seek amidst the dark clouds, making my path very dark. An unknown fear gripped me and it was not that I was afraid of the dark but the path looked odd. Further, the vehicle was plodding its way on the abnormally bumpy road and so the bulb in the dome was turning off and on, giving my surroundings a bizarre look.

Did the moon take pity on me? Great God! She came out of hiding and brightened up the place, giving me all the strength and courage needed to pass through the spooky path. Almost every tree, shrub, bush and even creepers and climbers came into view. On my way from home all of them looked green and back home they all changed colour, as if daubed with black paint. Primarily a lover of all things gifted by nature to human eyes, I relished the lovely sight both sides of the road made. This caused me to miss a piece of heavy rock waiting to obstruct my vehicle.

As I pulled myself up, I looked around to see if there was anyone around. There was one — perhaps she was easing herself, as village women prefer the night in order to be away from the ogling eyes of men. My fall startled her as she sprang up from her squatting position and moved to the left corner of the threshing ground. I could not believe my eyes. She was stark naked and her long loose hair, which hugged her back, almost touched the ground, while her protruding tummy told me that she was not young.

She folded her arms against her sagging breasts and looked at me. Was it just an innocent look or a cold stare? Something in me said that I should move away from that place as quickly as possible. I could not pull the vehicle up in one jerk as it was taking every effort to position it on its wheels. While I was struggling with it, I saw the shadow of something strange looming large on the path. I could not take my eyes off the towering shadow. Was it the moon playing mischief or was it the naked woman playing pranks on me?

By instinct, I turned around to see what the naked woman was doing. There was no woman there and I stood confused. Then I looked at the shadow as it had already crossed the path and was heading towards the other side of the road. My inquisitive mind tried to probe into the matter and I turned back to know what was making the shadow grow.

At the centre of the threshing ground, stood an abnormally tall figure a few feet above the Palmyra tree nearby. What a long tress of hair and a mountain of flesh she was with two huge hillocks for breasts and long, sturdy branches of trees for her hands and legs.

My blood pressure began to fall out of sheer fear. Pearls of sweat began to form on my face and body and I could feel them finding their way towards my underwear. A sense of darkness began to surround my vision and I thought I would fall again to the ground. I don’t know what gave me the strength to pull up the vehicle in one jerk as I hopped on it and throttled. I never knew that my two-wheeler had such a powerful engine. It flew at break- neck speed. Yet I was courageous enough to turn my head back to see if the apparition was still there.

She stood there looking at me as I reached the main road that guided me home.

At home, my wife looked me straight in the eye and said with concern, “There is a nervous look in your eyes.”

I narrated the night to her — beginning from Jaya’s thesis to the farewell to the ghost.

“Oh! It is not a ghost, it is that giant of a woman — a Yakshi,” my wife said.

The next morning back in the college, I rehearsed to Jaya what I told my wife.

“You too have seen the Yakshi of our village. I heard many people in my village talk about her, but I am yet to see her,” Jaya said in a curiosity filled voice.

“But you may not be there to narrate what you saw,” I said giggling as I finished the story in my mind.