It was the summer of 2008. A sudden urge to visit the mountains found the four of us heading to the Shivaliks.
Nahan was everything we had imagined it to be. The vast stretches of verdant gardens, ancient temples and the pristine air breathed magic. We spent our days wandering down the cobbled pathways, humming songs and talking about our dreams.
It was the last night of our stay. We decided to walk down the winding road outside our homestay. We had barely reached the first bend, when we felt the sudden rustle of an eerily cold breeze. We halted. The road was dark. And then we saw it – a white light streaking across the vast expanse of mountains, slicing the darkness into two. We stood transfixed. Moments later, faces, ugly as hell, half hidden behind shadows appeared and stared down at us.
We gasped and rushed back to our rooms.
The next morning, as we checked out, our hostess handed over a piece of paper.
“We saw you,” it read.
We looked at each other and then at her.
“A group of old women came in for breakfast this morning. They asked us to give this to you.”
Image : Arjun MJ ( Unsplash )
