Outskirts of West Bengal, there was a small village named Chapadanga. In every winter, an old man used to appear into the village to tell many stories to his little listeners. He seemed to be above sixty years old. His white beard almost touched his chest. Although his body seemed to be weak but he was very energetic. He was called Golpo Dadu (Story Grandfather) by the children. No one had any idea where the old man lived but they enjoyed his story on every evening. A small makeshift stage used to be built with bamboos by the seniors of the village in a field near their only primary school. The field was called Golper Math (story field). The stage had only a roof made of cloth. The old man narrated his story in the stage. There was no electricity in that village. So, a Hazak lamp was placed near the old man. The young listeners assembled together after they had finished their studies. In spite of the cool breeze of the winter, the children never missed the chance to listen to the stories.
On a Poush Sankranti day which is the last day of Bengali month Poush, while the mothers of all children were busy cooking pitha and puli, their children were busy to listen to a story from the old man.
"What kind of story will you like to listen today in the coldest evening of this year's winter." the old man asked their avid listeners in coughing voice.
"Horror!" Most of the children raised their hands. The old man commenced a story.
This is a story of one Poush Sankranti night in winter when a boy named Nurul was returning to his village from his job in the city. Every day he would reach home before evening. But today, he came late at night because of the delay of the train. When he reached the station of his village by train, he noticed the place was fully empty. He remembered that today is Poush Sankranti.
He knew that the day was a curse for the village. He tried every possible to return home early. But unfortunately, he was late. He had no acquaintance in the city. He joined the job about two months ago. Therefore, he could not develop a good friendship with any colleague either. If he could then he would have taken shelter in their houses only for today. He recalled what had happened today about 5 years ago.
Almost five years ago, on Poush Sankranti day, a witch was hanged till death by villagers on the suspicion of killing small children by sucking their blood. She was brutally beaten by the villagers before being hanged. At the end moment, she looked at the crowd and said, "I'll come back every year on Poush Sankranti. I'll kill one villager every year." After the incident, every year a villager goes missing on Poush Sankranti.
"She comes alive on every Poush Sankranti night to take revenge", Nurul said to himself. Nurul's home was almost one kilometre away from the station. He searched for vehicles but the road was vacant too. After waiting for almost an hour, he decided to walk home alone.
In the middle of the road, there was a big banyan tree where the witch had been hanged. The rumour was the witch still lives over the top branch of the tree. The moment he reached the banyan tree, his heart started pounding in fear. He hurried to avoid the tree but after crossing a few steps from the tree, he heard the footfalls of someone behind him. He knew if he looked back, the spirit of the witch would kill him at that moment. Therefore, he walked as fast as possible to reach home. He knew if he ran in panic, the soul could sever his head. He could feel someone was following him. Nurul chanted those mantras his mother taught him that could protect him from ghosts. In the coldest winter night, he was sweating. The coldest wind of the winter was passing like a fireball.
He struggled to reach home at last. He knocked on the door very rapidly so that his mother could open it without wasting a second. While knocking, he heard the footfalls of the pursuing coming fast towards him. He doubled the speed of knocking.
His mother opened the door and surprised to see her son was gasping and sweating in fear. He said to her mother that the spirit of the witch was coming after him. His mother was also aware of the story. At first, she also got scared. But when it comes to safety about children, every mother becomes brave. His mother came out of the house to explore who was following his son. In the bright light of the moon when she saw it, her eyes ball raised bigger.
The old man paused his story for some seconds. All the children looked at each other in fear. They could feel some negative energy around them. The howl of the wind in winter seemed to them as if the spirits were screeching. The surroundings were covered with thick fog. They got close to each other so that they could fight against their fears. The old man realized his listeners were scared. He continued his story.
After inspecting who had followed her son, she looked at her half-fainted son and said, "It's not the spirit of the witch, it's just a puppy."
Witch-hunting is commonly associated with the Middle Ages, but women are still victims of this practice in some parts of India. According to police data published by the Times of India newspaper, some 123 people were massacred by crowds in Jharkhand between May 2016 and 2019. These people, mostly women, were accused of practising witchcraft. Several Indian states have regulated laws to prevent murders by suspecting women as witches, but laws alone are not enough to fight against this superstition. We have to convince others and enlighten them about this misconception. I tried to make my readers aware of the fact through my story.
