A child followed me home

I was really looking forward to visiting the Kurseong hill station in India. My friends Arjun, Sunita, Vijay and I had been planning this trip for quite some time. We had heard all about the haunted Dow Hill forest and wanted to see it for ourselves. Being the city dwellers we were, we made fun of the local superstitions and beliefs associated with that place and assumed that it was probably harmless. Just a spooky looking forest that had earned a bad reputation due to the overactive imagination of human beings.

The myth that intrigued me the most was about the apparition of a headless child in Dow Hill forest. The local legend was that when walking along the path in the woods at night, you would sense a presence right behind you. But you mustn’t turn around. Because if you do, you would see the aforementioned headless child. And once you had seen him, your fate would be sealed. If you didn’t die of fright right there, this headless child would follow you for the rest of your life. It would either drive you insane or would compel you to kill yourself. The story goes that the boy was taken from his home and murdered. His head was chopped off. Since then he wanders the forest and attaches himself to anyone who sees him.

This is what a fellow patron told us at the hotel where we were staying. He was probably over seventy and had been born and raised in Kurseong. He was visiting his home town and when he heard our conversation about wanting to go to Dow Hill forest, he politely asked if he could tell us a few things about it. I suppose he was trying to dissuade us from going, but his friendly warning only served to feed our curiosity and made us even more determined to go to the forest and walk down that path. At night, of course.

We thanked the kind old man for all the info and decided to head into town. We visited a few local tourist attractions but the thought of going into the forest is what made us salivate. I think we saw it as a challenge. To be able to go to the infamous Dow Hill forest, walk the “forbidden” path and prove that the local legends were balderdash.

That night, after we had had our dinner, we went to the forest and began our adventure. We were walking along the path that cut through the middle of the forest and led to a road on the other side. Just a few hundred feet from there was a bus station. We would be there in time to catch the bus back to town. The night wasn’t especially dark. The full moon illuminated our path and we could see our surroundings quite clearly. We did carry flashlights, but they were unnecessary. The four of us walked together, telling stories, laughing at each other’s jokes.

As we ventured deeper and deeper into the forest, we began to hear strange noises. Granted they seemed to be coming form a distance and we had to strain our ears to hear them, but they were there. I mean, we all heard them. Surely four people could not have the same hallucination. It sounded like someone wailing in despair and agony. This was followed by the sound of laughter. The natural flow of our conversation was gone. We were now talking out of necessity to prevent silence from engulfing us. I’m sure that each of us had a creeping fear that the legends about the forest may not be so baseless after all.

Arjun tried to lighten the mood. He began to share with us an anecdote involving him and a one night stand. He was facing us and walking backwards. Sunita was just telling him to be careful when he tripped over a rock and fell, spraining his ankle badly. We all cursed under our breaths. But Sunita was prepared as always. She pulled out a pain relief spray and a length of bandage from her back pack. Essentials that the rest of us geniuses had forgotten to pack. She sprayed Arjun’s ankle and wrapped it up. Vijay was bent down watching Sunita attend to our friend and made a few light hearted jokes at Arjun’s expense.

As they were occupied, I felt like something, or someone was right behind me. I turned around and there he was! The headless child. He was there for a fraction of a second before disappearing. He didn’t evaporate or anything, the way ghosts do in bad horror movies. He was there one instant and was gone the next. I let out a gasp.

Vijay asked me what was wrong. I remained silent and kept on staring at the spot where I had seen the apparition. He asked again. This time Sunita and Arjun too were on their feet. Arjun with a little help from Sunita. I decided not to say anything. Because I honestly didn’t know if I had actually seen the headless child or if my mind was playing tricks on me. All this while, I had been thinking about what the old man had told us. Maybe this was something my subconscious mind had just conjured up. Especially since I was already a bit nervous, what with all the distorted sounds we kept hearing. I told my friends it was nothing.

We slowly made our way to the narrow stretch of road on the other side. We reached the bus station, caught a bus and by midnight, we were back at the hotel. Now that we were back in familiar surroundings, the trepidation we had felt earlier seemed silly. We joked about it and patted ourselves on the back for having “conquered” Dow Hill forest. I decided to put any thoughts of the headless child out of my mind as we went to bed.

I was in my hotel room, in the middle of my nightly skin care routine when I felt like I heard the pitter patter of little feet. The sound seemed to be coming from the bathroom. My heart racing, I rushed to the bathroom and turned on the light. There was nothing there. It must have been some kid in the adjacent room, is what I told myself. I went to bed and tried to force myself to sleep, telling myself again and again that there was nothing in Dow Hill and that what I had seen was but a figment of my own imagination.

We stayed in Kurseong for another two days and the whole time, I kept hearing things. If it wasn’t the sound of little feet running around in my room, it was the sound of a child’s laughter right next to my ear in the lobby. The looming sense of dread I felt became all too real when we were about to check out and I offhandedly asked the front desk manager if there was a child in the room next to mine and he told me that room had been vacant for several days. I told myself once again that I was just letting the rumors get to me.

After we landed in New Delhi, I went to my parents’ house to pick up my dog, Nova, and then went back home with her. I had missed my good girl. Once I was in my own home, I was sure I would stop imagining weird things. But that was not to be. What had followed me to New Delhi wasted little time in making it’s presence known. That night as I cooked dinner, Nova sat in the hallway playing with her chew toy and watching me work. As I listened to music and chopped veggies, I felt what I thought was Nova pawing at my calve. But then I looked up and saw her still sitting just outside the kitchen. I jumped back in shock and fear. I would have dismissed this too as a product of my imagination, had I not heard the same pitter patter of tiny feet in the hallway and Nova barking her head off in the sound’s direction.

The strange occurrences soon became a part of my life. One evening, I was in my study trying to get some work done, when my pen inexplicably fell off the desk. When I reached down to pick it up, I heard the sound of tiny, bare feet running out of the study, accompanied by a child’s giggle. As if a toddler had just played a prank. Nova, once again began to bark frantically. I petted her, more for my own comfort than for hers. She looked into my eyes as if to tell me that something was very, very wrong.

As the days went by, the activity only escalated. I was terrified of being alone in my own house. I made sure Nova was by my side at all times. In the shower, I could see through the steam, the silhouette of a small child right outside. And of course, Nova’s growling would confirm that something really was there. When I went to sleep at night, I could sense someone standing right next to my bed. I have a few friends who have kids. They’ve often told me how they’ve been scared out of their wits when they woke up in the middle of the night to find their kid silently standing next to them. Now I could relate. Except, unlike them, the kid next to my bed was missing his head. When I cooked, did my laundry, got some office work done etc I could see something just at the edge of my field of vision. Objects that I knew I hadn’t touched and Nova couldn’t reach would be moved. Sometimes, when I got ready for work in the morning, I could see little hand prints on the mirror.

At first I tried to ignore it and didn’t show any kind of reaction when it appeared or moved something. I thought if it didn’t get some kind of reaction out of me, it would lose interest and might go away. I was wrong. The spirit was in no mood to be ignored. One evening I was in my study and the thing was running around as it usually did. I heard a thug as if someone had bumped into my reading chair. I didn’t even look up. The child didn’t like that. In the next second, I saw the antique clock I kept on the fireplace mantle levitate, then come flying at me as if someone had thrown it. I ducked out of the way just in time and the clock crashed into the wall behind me. Not only did the spirit refuse to be ignored, it had shown me that it could cause harm if it didn’t get the attention it wanted. It was like a child throwing a tantrum at being denied a toy. Only this was much more terrifying.

In time, this presence began taking a toll on me. I could hardly get any sleep at nights, I would be lying awake in bed. I was constantly paranoid and looking over my shoulders. As a result of this stress, my performance at work began to suffer. My social life too had taken a beating, as I wasn’t exactly the most fun person to be around. I considered moving, but I knew that the headless child would only follow me. I didn’t want to tell anyone for fear of being thought of as insane.

One evening, my best friend, Sunita came over. She said she had noticed that ever since we got back from our trip to Kurseong, I wasn’t acting like myself. That I seemed constantly stressed. She asked me to tell her what was wrong. I felt a huge weight being lifted from my chest as I told her everything. Sunita listened patiently and told me that she believed me. She said that that night in the Dow Hill forest, she too had felt a presence behind us, but she didn’t look.

Sunita has an aunt, Rekha, who calls herself a medium. She claims to have had encounters with spirits and has helped them move on. When I had first heard about this, I laughed it off. I called these stories ridiculous and suggested that Sunita’s aunt see a psychologist. But now, when Sunita suggested that we ask her for help, I agreed.

Rekha and I spoke on the phone and she agreed to come to my place and see what she could do. The following Saturday, Rekha walked around the house, examining every nook and corner. She seemed deep in contemplation. Finally, after about 30 minutes, she told me there definitely was a presence in the house, that of a little boy, but she sensed no malice from it. Only sadness. I let out a harsh chuckle and told her about the incident with the clock. I asked her why someone who had no malice in them would do such a thing. Rekha replied that prolonged grief can often give way to anger. The spirit was probably in great pain. She repeated that she sensed no malice. She also said that she couldn’t just make spirits move on without finding out what they want. I thanked her and she left.

I didn’t know about the spirit, but now I felt anger rising in me. This “child” had made my life hell and he’s the one who was in pain? I was a prisoner in my own home while he had free reign! What more could he possibly want?

It was now after dark and I decided to do some reading. I sat in my reading chair and tried to focus on the book. And that’s when I saw it. A tiny headless form in the corner of my eye. I think my annoyance overcame my fear and I instantly turned my head and looked at it.

Standing just a few feet from me was a toddler, in a pair of brown pants and a white shirt. His head was missing. I just stared in awe and terror. Then I noticed something. His fingers. They were so tiny and looked so delicate. His size and the way he stumbled when he walked suggested that he was no more than two to three years old. How did a child so young get decapitated? Who would have the heart to do such a thing? As these thoughts crept into my mind, I began to feel sympathy. I held out a hand towards the little boy, even as my body shook with nervous energy. The child walked towards me and touched my hand with his. And as he did, I was engulfed in a bright white light.

I opened my eyes to find myself back in Kurseong. I was sitting on the grass next to a huge house. I looked down at my hands. Only they were not my hands. They were the hands of a toddler. I saw my hand, or should I say the toddlers hand, reach out for a stuffed bunny and play with it. From the house, a woman emerged. She had a bright, warm smile. Her clothes were very old fashioned. She picked me up and kissed my cheeks. She called me her little bear and asked if I was having fun. I heard a small child say “yes, mamma”. Then I heard another voice, a man’s voice from the house. He was asking the woman to come look at something. “Mamma” put me down and went back in.

I saw myself continue to play, look at the squirrels, hear the birds. I felt safe and happy. Then suddenly, a pair of strong hands grabbed me by my arms. I was being carried off in a hurry with a hand place over my mouth to keep me from making a sound. I felt the stuffed bunny slip out of my fingers. I was placed inside a sack and I couldn’t see what was going on. I felt myself being pushed around harshly and heard angry voices talk in a language that I did not understand. I felt tears pour out of my eyes.

Finally I was taken out of the sack and saw myself surrounded by trees and a bunch of scary looking people. I realized this was the Dow Hill forest. I was right next to the path that my friends and I had walked. The men talked amongst themselves, but when one of them heard me whimper, he slapped me so hard I fell down. They continued to speak in the same angry, awful tone. They would often look at me or point towards me and I knew that I was the subject of discussion. I then saw one of them pick up a large knife, like a machete. He lifted it high above his head and then brought it down on me.

I was once again engulfed in a white light and his time when I opened my eyes, I was back in my study. The little boy was gone. I felt sobs shake my body.

This is what had happened to that poor child. Those people, unworthy of being called human beings, took him from his home and killed him. But why? Was he kidnapped for ransom and killed when the parents couldn’t pay? Or were the men extracting some kind of sick retribution? Whatever the case may have been, this child was brutally killed and was now unable to move on. Nova had heard me sobbing and came close to me. I hugged her as I cried.

I remembered the woman who called him “little bear”. She must have been his mother. I could feel the innocent, tender emotions this child felt for her, even as he showed me what had happened to him. I realized that I wasn’t dealing with a demon, but with a lonely little boy. One who had been snatched away from loving care and then deprived of life. I decided I would not try to rid this house of him. If he wanted to stay, he could. I tried to do some research into his murder, but I haven’t found much. It appears that his killers were never brought to justice.

I wasn’t able to get used to the child’s presence in my home immediately. That took a while. But slowly, I accepted him as a part of my life. I even brought some toys home. Soft plushies - bears, dogs and bunnies, just like the one he had. I kept his toys in a small spare bedroom I have. Soon after, the child’s activities became rather mellow. I can still hear his little feet running around but it no longer feels menacing. Just the sound of a toddler playing. And his activities usually remain confined to and around the room where I’ve kept his toys. I think he likes it.

Even Nova seems to be getting along with our little guest. Sometimes, I see her wagging her tail at an empty space, or lying on her back with a silly smile on her face and pawing at something, and I know that he’s there. I guess he likes playing with my dog too. I’m optimistic that having a home, a place where he no longer has to wander, where he isn’t feared or reviled will help him heal. And then, maybe someday he’ll be able to move on. But until then, I will share my home with a little boy who doesn't have a head.