The Hauntings and The Silver Bullet
Just a short note of introduction before I relate a true hair-raising
incident that happened to me on one of my many rides into
I have spent many years in the Indian Jungles, camping, biking
and travelling on foot to different places and I still do.
Many people have asked me if I had any occult and haunting
experiences during these years of adventure. I have really
no idea why the occult and haunting experiences should be
associated with my rides into the wild, but some how it is
so. I have had a few curious experiences myself, one of which
I am about to relate and I have little reason to doubt it.
Just for the record, I am no authority on the occult and I
think it's very foolish for anyone to express an opinion on
a subject he knows incompletely. I only wish to document a
personal experience. You are free to make your own deductions.
The pillion moon was a sign of comfort, for the dark highway
hid its contents well. The road unwilling revealed itself
only to the sombre beam of the Royal Enfield. We rode and
the road continued.
Life has a way of carrying forth itself with an absolute
bliss of ignorance. It was late - 12:45 pm and my concerned
travelling companion Siegfred, was now drowsy. There was a
light drizzle and having ridden the whole day we were in no
mood of facing another downpour. The so called short-cut route
was living up to its name as far as a bad road could go. The
challenge was broadly met by our dear old Bullet. The clouds
thickened and the reflection of the moon on my silver bullet
started to fade away. We thumped on; the road covered with
thick jungles on either side, which occasionally gave way
to a rushing stream that crossed the path. There was no sign
of any human habitation. Our only option would be to camp
off the road - pitch our tent in the shelter of the forest.
But trusting the bullet with her reassuring thump we edged
on the now boulder strewn track. The rocks on the 'Kutcha'
road cut into the tyres of the bullet while the sandy stretches
made the going heavy. In the rainy season these sandy sections
make it very entertaining for a tired biker with a sense of
humour, if there is such a man, for he will slide and skid
from side to side or perhaps get bogged down if he is not
careful. Suddenly something reflected off the light from the
head lamps, and as we drew near we could distinguish a small
structure a little off the track. I got the bullet to halt
directly in front of the structure that now looked like a
desolate bungalow. The least we would do was take shelter
in the veranda instead of going through the tedious process
of pitching the tent. I revved the bike a bit so that the
caretaker or whoever present would come out to inspect the
racket. Nothing happened though; everything was silent except
for the wood crickets, who chirped ceaselessly from their
hidden shelters amongst the fallen leaves. Deciding to have
a look around we pushed open the rusted gate and walked into
the compound, which was covered with overgrown grass. The
bungalow looked abandoned, and it had a rather large veranda
that encircled the entire house. I whispered to Sieg that
he should check the outhouse that was to the left of the bungalow
and started toward the veranda. The windows were secured well;
there was a rather large old padlock that shone in the light
of my pocket torch. Glancing back to have a look at Sieg,
I could see his torch light prance about in the dark some
distance away. I decided to walk the right length of veranda
and double up to met Sieg at the outhouse. Half way through
I kept looking back, getting this eerie feeling of being watched.
I quickened my steps and on reached the back of the bungalow
expecting to see Sieg's torch light. But there was no sign
of him - only the dark outline of the outhouse that stood
there hidden in the overgrown vegetation. Suddenly this feeling
of being completely alone descended over me, my heart started
pounding and I quickly retraced my steps to the front of the
building screaming out to Sieg all the time. I was met with
stark silence this time - not even the friendly chirps of
The clouds had cleared and some of the moonlight lit up the
surroundings in an eerie glow. My heart was now thumping like
an Enfield on the roll. Sieg was missing and I was standing
in this desolate place in the middle of nowhere. The poor
light of my pocket torch round revealed nothing but the overgrown
garden that threaten to reach out and consume me any moment.
A good minute had passed; a hundred dreadful thoughts were
racing through my head at top speed. Glancing at the bike,
the moonlight reflecting off her silver paint, she was the
only consoling sight. Impulsively I started walking slowly
towards the Enfield in a hope to sound the horn that Sieg
might hear. I looked back and then 20 feet from the bike I
saw a figure standing beyond on the road and it was not Sieg!
The towering dark figure of a human was facing me and every
hair of my body was standing. I froze when suddenly a hand
from behind touched my shoulder. Every bone in my body shivered.
I turned round in a flash to face whatever was there! It was
Siegfred and he had the most terrified look on his face. I
held him back and pointed at the figure, which continued to
stare back. We could not make out much, for it blended in
with the shadows. It stood there for a few seconds which seem
like hours and then vanished suddenly into the night!
There was no time for words or explanations, we raced to
the bike and in a desperate kick the engine roared to life.
We must have covered the dirt track to the main road in record-breaking
time. We rode for a long, long time, covering as much distance
as possible from that dreadful place. Since then much discussion
has laid claim to every detail of that night. There was never
a conclusive answer. Supernatural experiences are that way
and one has to leave it there. Let's conclude it in the name
of Travel... I believe that my "Silver Bullet" that
stood between us and that strange apparition saved the day.