The First Date

Stevie Wonder’s Superstition blasted through the speakers as Akash Sirohi, focusing on the mirror, tucked his blue-grey shirt and added the finishing touches to his hair. He needed to look good this evening. He was on several dating apps like most men his age. Unlike others though, he rarely got to the “let’s meet” stage. He couldn’t feign interest in a woman just to have a night of fun. But tonight was different. He had found a match with Sneha last week and experienced a connection with her within the first few messages they had exchanged.

She loved the ’70s Bollywood. Match!

She loved inappropriate jokes… in fact, she outdid him on that point. Match!

She preferred whiskey as her poison…Dad always said that a woman who likes whiskey is a woman who has great taste. Match!

Satisfied with his clean-up act, he switched off the lights, locked his apartment, and was about to call the lift.

“Shit! Forgot my wallet,” he realised. He turned back and as he unlocked the door, he smiled to himself. “I’m behaving like a teenager about to meet his crush on the first date,” mused the 26-year-old.

He found his wallet at its usual place — the right side of the second shelf of his wardrobe.

He picked it up and with the motor skills of a toddler dropped it to the floor beside his bed.

“Clumsy oaf!” his mother would call him. It was either that or “Mr. Butterfingers.”

Placing his wallet in his back pocket, he quickly locked the doors and headed to the rendezvous location — a resto-pub that offered live music. Yet another common thread between Sneha and him.

***

Sneha Sharma was never one to flow with the tide. As a kid, she’d be seen playing football with the boys instead of the lesser-aggressive games her female classmates were so fond of. She took the words “teenage rebel” to heart as she once threw a tantrum at her older sister and stayed away from home for three days. Her parents had filed a missing complaint with the police, while precocious Sneha had parked herself in the nearby gurudwara — taking part in the daily rituals, including helping out in the kitchen and washing the dirty dishes.

It came as no surprise to anyone when she decided to pursue a course in mountaineering after graduating college.

“Traditional jobs be damned! I’m not going to waste my life slaving for someone else inside a cubicle. I want to travel the world and I’m not going to trade my dreams for a fat paycheck,” she had reasoned.

She had a free spirit and no one dared dictate terms to her. Those who did make the mistake of doing so were subjected to either a caustic remark reminding them of their inadequacies or an “if looks could kill” stare. Both these methods worked like a charm.

***

The pub was warmly lit. It wasn’t yet time for the live band to perform. It was 8.15 pm and the pub was still half-empty. People were sipping their drinks, chomping down food, and engaging in conversation before the evening kicked off.

Sitting in a corner, taking sips of Jameson, Sneha and Akash were engaged in an animated discussion over horror and thriller stories. They had discovered their mutual love for the genre and were now sharing their favourite pieces of work.

“I don’t like ghost stories,” said Sneha.

“Oh? Really?” quizzed Akash.

“Yeah, maybe it’s because I don’t believe in spirits and shit like that,” replied Sneha.

“Hmm… I guess we differ there. Cos, I love ghost stories. You know, movies like Paranormal Activity, The Conjuring… they’re so much fun,” said Akash as he took a big swig of whiskey.

“Nah… I love the horror-thriller genre. But not ghost stories. You get what I mean?” asked Sneha.

“Ummm…”

“Okay, so movies like Get Out, Don’t Breathe, Panic Room. I like those kinda movies. They’re scary but they’re a lot more practical and relatable than evil spirits and ghosts,” she explained.

“Oh yeah. Sure. I get it. Hypnotising and transplanting a man’s brain into another is quite relatable,” he said sarcastically.

“Does this sarcasm come naturally or is it the whiskey speaking?” she shot back as she playfully punched him on his arm.

“Ma’am, Sir. How’s the food?” asked the waiter interrupting the conversation.

“It’s great. Thank you” replied Sneha.

“Could we get another round of our drinks?” inquired Akash while simultaneously seeking approval from Sneha. She smiled and nodded. She was beginning to feel comfortable with him.

“Sure Sir,” replied the waiter and he sped off.

“Have you ever had a horror or scary experience? Like for real?” asked Akash.

“Hmm…” thought Sneha before adding “No. Not really. I mean I’ve been scared on some occasions… mostly while trekking. But not anything that would make your spine tingle, you know.”

“Mm-hmm”

“Wait! Don’t tell me you’ve had such an experience!”

“Well, yeah. Quite recently. I was shit scared as I got ready to meet you,” replied Akash with a twinkle in his eye.

“Oh please!” she playfully waved him off.

“But yeah, I did have a pretty surreal experience once…” he trailed off.

“Woah… tell me,” she said excitedly as she leaned forward to catch every word he said.

 

“So, there was this time when my friends and I were driving down to Goa. The four of us — that’s Tabish, Neel, Jinx, and me — had started early morning on a Friday. And we’ve done this route hundreds of times, so, it’s pretty much like knowing every nook and corner on the way.” started Akash.

“We have a particular spot on the route where we stop for food and tea. We even have a particular spot where we take a leak.”

“Oh, God! You men are pathetic!” exclaimed Sneha as she laughed.

“It’s just some territory-marking stunt… you know like tigers,” justified Akash.

“Haan haan… bada aaya sher,” replied Sneha in jest.

“Haha. Anyway. So, we’re driving through the ghats. It was just past one in the afternoon and Jinx suggested we take a short detour through the forest. It had rained a few days ago and the green cover of the forest was just so inviting. We’d already had a couple of beers each and we had covered a good distance. Both perfectly good excuses to justify the detour. So, we thought, why not? We’ve done this route a hundred times we’ll find our way back.”

 “Sir, your drinks,” interrupted the waiter as he returned with their order. He placed their drinks on the table and went his way.

Akash continued.

“We got off the highway, onto a dirt track, and we drove into the forest. Sneha, it was beautiful. Rich, green foliage, the gentle sound of streams, bird songs that I’d never heard earlier. We even saw deer, jackals, and a ridiculously large number of monkeys.

We’d spent over an hour on our impromptu safari when we decided to get back. We looked at the navigation and there was no signal, of course. We turned the car around to trace our way back to the highway.

As we drove on, we came to a fork in the road. Somehow, we hadn’t noticed it on the way in. Anyway, at this fork, we saw a frail old woman standing. She wore a white sari and had a pile of firewood on her head. We stopped to ask her for directions and she pointed to the road going right. We were about to drive on when I asked her if she needed a lift.”

Akash paused to take a sip of his whiskey.

Sneha was growing impatient and in her excitement, she had inched herself closer to Akash.

“Ahh…” sighed Akash as he swallowed the whiskey. It felt refreshing and reassuring. He needed it as he relived an experience, he wasn’t likely to forget ever.

He continued.

“So, I asked the old woman, “Ma Ji, can we drop you off somewhere?”

She looked straight at me and said, “Haan beta, my house is about two kilometers down this road,” pointing down the same road to the right. Neel and Tabish made space for her on the back seat while I got down to take the firewood off her head and place it in the boot of the car.

She was quite chatty and kept us engaged along the way.

“You remind me of my son, Kedar,” the old woman said to me. “Your physique is just like his.”

“What does your son do?” I asked out of courtesy.

“Oh, he works in a big company in Mumbai,” she replied.

“So, you stay here by yourself?” I asked as I began to feel my body tense.

“No, no, son. My daughter-in-law and grand-daughter stay with me. They’ve gone out to the village store to get supplies for the week,” she explained.

“Oh, acha. That’s good,” I replied breathing a sigh of relief.

 

“Just here is fine” she indicated that we pull over as we came up to a small, kutcha hut.

It was the only hut in the clearing and I wondered why it was cut off from the rest of the village. I quickly got down to help the old woman. I placed the firewood outside the entrance to her hut.

The old woman looked up at me, beamed, and raising her hand, said, “God bless you with long, healthy life, beta.”

I brought my hand to my heart, bowed, and said, “Take care of yourself, Ma Ji.” I got back into the car and we drove on.

It was almost three in the afternoon and we were nowhere near the highway. To make matters worse, we couldn’t see any villagers around either.

“How long has it been since we dropped off the old lady?” I asked.

“Must be at least half an hour if not longer,” replied Tabish.

“Yaar, I don’t see the point in carrying on down this route. Let’s just head back and retrace our way from the fork. We’ve already lost so much time,” suggested Neel.

Though none of us voiced it back then, we were all kinda getting the jitters. It had become eerie over the last half an hour or so. We turned the car around and that’s when we realised the forest had gone silent. No signs of life anywhere. Not even the chirping of birds.”

 “One two mic check, mic check.” The band had arrived and had begun to set and tune their instruments and sound equipment.

 “Uff! What timing! Hurry up and finish the story. Or I won’t be able to enjoy the music with your unfinished story stuck in my head,” Sneha snapped excitedly.

 

“Haha… I’m almost done,” assured Akash before continuing.

 

“So, we drove back and reached the fork in the road. That’s when we realised we hadn’t noticed her hut on the way back.

“Must have driven right past it looking for the fork,” Neel said nervously as we drove on. No one uttered a word. We drove on in silence till we reached the highway and stopped at a ‘chai ki tapri’. As we sipped our chai, Tabish asked the shopkeeper about the name of the village in the forest. The shopkeeper looked up and inquired, “Which village are you talking about, bhai?”

Neel chipped in, “The one where you take that road.” He pointed to the place where the dirt track met the highway.

The shopkeeper looked at us and grinned, “You saw the old lady, didn’t you?”

I choked on my tea.

He continued, “Don’t worry bhai log. Luckily, she’s a good spirit, not a chudail.”

“No!” squealed Sneha, her eyes wide with excitement.

 

“Yeah. I wish it wasn’t true but it is. There was no village. We even checked Google Maps and traced the route we had taken. No signs of any settlements. I guess I have my reasons for believing in ghost stories.” He looked away towards the staging area.

“We’re gonna start with something to set the mood right. Sing along with us,” announced the vocalist as the band began to play Riders on the Storm.

***

“Bas bhaiya, just pull over to the left,” Sneha instructed the Uber driver as she and Akash walked past the sleeping security guard of her building.

“I’m in awe of how secure your society is,” quipped Akash.

“It’s the best, isn’t it? You’d need to wake up the neighbourhood if you wanted to break in here,” replied Sneha sarcastically.

They entered her apartment and Akash was struck by the simple yet classy décor of the place. L-shaped floor diwans with those funky, pop-culture-quoted cushion covers one could pick up online or at flea markets. Noir movie posters were placed intentionally at random angles. Buddhist prayer flags strung across one wall. Fairy lights along the floor opposite the diwans. A neat DIY coffee table made from used beer bottles and a plank of unpolished wood. Potted plants in the corners, on the window sill, and three of them hanging on the adjacent wall.

 

“Like it?” Sneha inquired with a big smile as she saw him taking in her months of carefully planned and selected decoration and art.

“It’s beautiful, Sneha. Very tastefully done.”

“Come on. I’ll show you some cool artifacts and knick-knacks I’ve picked up from across the world. There’s this set of two coasters that I keep beside my bed. Picked them up from Guatemala. Depicts some beautiful Mayan artistry,” she continued as she showed him into her bedroom.

 “Looks like you prefer your space,” he quipped referring to her queen-size bed.

“Yeah, I’m usually sleeping in bags and bunk beds so might as well indulge myself when I’m home,” she winked.

 “Could you turn the AC on, please? The remote is beside you,” she said pointing to it.

He turned the AC on and as he placed the remote back, he fumbled and dropped it to the ground.

“Clumsy Oaf!” he imagined his mum chiding him.

“Oops. Sorry,” he said as he bent over to pick up the remote.

“That’s alright. If it’s broken, you’re buying me an AC,” she said. “Come see these.” She held up the two coasters.

“Sneha. I’m feeling hungry. Let’s get a quick bite. I prefer eating to avoid the munchies later on.”

“Arre sure. There’s some food in the fridge. But check these coasters out first. Don’t be rude!”

“No, no. I want to eat something oily and fatty.”

Sneha looked him up and down.

“Oily? Fatty? You?”

“Yeah. I like to indulge myself, too.”

“But it’s like two in the morning. Where are you gonna get something oily and fatty?”

“Come. I know a place. Please?” he pleaded.

“Argh! Fine!” she groaned.

She switched off the lights and locked the apartment.

As she turned around, she saw Akash put his finger over his lips indicating that she make no sound.

She looked at him quizzically but followed him out of the apartment. He was striding, almost running towards the society gate. She grabbed him by his arm and inquired, “Akash, why are you behaving so weirdly? What’s wrong?”

“Don’t turn around. Just keep walking straight and answer me. Can you see out onto the road from your room window?” he asked almost racing through his words.

“No. My apartment faces the garden inside.”

“Phew! Okay.” He paused and took in a few deep breaths. “Don’t freak out. But there is someone in your apartment.”

“Akash this isn’t funny. It’s one thing to share stories and all, it’s quite another to drag me out of my house at two in the friggin’ night just to pull off a practical joke.”

“No. Why the hell would I do that? I’m telling you. Someone is hiding beneath your bed. I saw him when I bent down to pick up the AC remote.”

“What?” her eyes widened as she gasped and covered her mouth.

“Yeah. I saw a hand and a foot sprawled on the floor. It was all very quick and I pretended as though I hadn’t noticed a thing. And I didn’t want to alert him so I acted casually and suggested we get a bite outside.”

“Oh my God! I’m calling the cops. The station is nearby.”

“Don’t need to. See that patrol jeep parked up ahead?”

Sneha nodded and they ran towards the cops.

Out of breath more because of fright than anything else, they narrated the incident to the two cops.

One of them radioed the station, “Possible break-in and robbery at Green Acre apartments. The suspect is in flat B-24. Yadav and I are going in to investigate. Please send backup.”

Sneha held Akash’s hand. She had been in many dangerous situations as a mountaineer but nothing came close remotely to what she was experiencing right now. They waited at the society gate beside the now awake, bewildered security guard while the cops went in to investigate and apprehend the would-be assailant.

On the other side of the road, a car zoomed past, speakers blasting — “Bhaag bhaag bhaag, aaya sher aaaya 

This story has been edited by our guest editor Tulika H Bhojwani, a former journalist and editor, who has worked with multiple English dailies, including The Times of India, Afternoon DC, and others. She is also a content strategist for advertisement firms, and premium hotel organisations such as The Hyatt, The Intercontinental Grand, and The Oberoi. Currently, she is designated as the head of content for a Silicon Valley-based company while also finishing her first poetry and prose book Season of Words. Tulika is also a social media enthusiast, who has founded one of the biggest poetry communities on Instagram while also writing her own poems under her own handle Season of Words.