Naresh Returns to Dharwad
Naresh stepped off the rickety auto in front of his two-storied house in Dharwad. The iron gate gleamed with fresh paint, its brass latch polished to a shine. Jasmine creepers adorned the boundary walls, adding a serene charm. The dark windows stared back at him, empty and unblinking. The familiar scent of damp earth after the morning drizzle tugged at his memories—childhood evenings chasing dragonflies and hearing whispered tales of spirits roaming after dark. Trees lined the road, their roots breaking through the old stone pavements. Life here moved slower, wrapped in the lazy hum of ceiling fans and the distant clang of temple bells. Yet, the stillness felt too perfect, almost unnatural, like the calm before a storm. Leaves rustled faintly, like soft whispers, and a distant door creaked, making him glance over his shoulder.
At 40, Naresh returned to the home he had left over two decades ago to chase his dreams. Now, standing at the gate, he was ready to embrace early retirement. His gaze fell on the outhouse—his cherished cottage—visible beyond the main house. It looked unchanged: simple, cozy, its sunlit walls dappled with shadows from the trees. He paused to take it in, memories flooding back—childhood days spent reading, dreaming, and losing himself in fantasies. This wasn’t just a building; it was a sanctuary, a piece of his soul. Warm nostalgia swept over him, as though the cottage had been waiting patiently, ready to welcome him home.
The trill of a koel snapped Naresh from his thoughts. He blinked, momentarily disoriented, as if waking from a dream. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the sweet scent of jasmine from the garden. Picking up his suitcase, he stepped inside, the gate creaking softly as it shut behind him. A smile tugged at his lips—soon, he would see his parents' familiar, welcoming faces.
Settling Back into Routine
Days quickly settled into a routine. Mornings were spent walking through the sprawling Karnataka University (KUD) campus. Banyan trees stretched their long shadows over cracked pathways. Naresh often paused near the old burial ground at the campus edge, drawn to its eerie silence. Crooked tombstones, tilted and cracked, cast jagged shadows on the uneven ground. The earth seemed weary, sagging under the weight of its buried secrets. Every visit brought a faint chill, as though unseen eyes watched from beneath the soil.
Afternoons in the outhouse cottage, his cherished retreat, were spent immersed in books, savoring coffee, and crafting witty blog posts. Evenings brought spirited reunions with Darshan and Karim, where they drank late into the night, their laughter echoing over playful banter and jokes that made them feel young again.
Their drinking sessions often stretched past midnight, with Darshan dropping Naresh home in the dead of night. At 2 a.m., the streets lay eerily silent, dim streetlights casting long, distorted shadows. Naresh gazed out the window, his muddled thoughts following the shifting darkness. One night, he caught a glimpse of a figure darting behind a tree—a fleeting silhouette, gone before he could be sure. Another time, as they passed the Gulladmath bungalow, its imposing facade drew his gaze. Now a historical museum, the bungalow still carried whispers of its dark past. Locals spoke of shadows flitting behind its curtains and faint voices echoing in the stillness of night. Its high walls and narrow windows seemed to guard deeply buried secrets.
As a child, Naresh had often felt the oppressive chill of the bungalow, its tales of curses and spirits seared into his memory. Now, staring at its looming silhouette, he thought he saw the curtains twitch. He blinked, but the window stared back—empty. A cold shiver ran down his spine, cutting through the car’s warmth. He exhaled sharply, trying to dismiss the unease, but it clung to him. Perhaps he’d had one drink too many, he thought, leaning back as the night blurred into a foggy haze.
The Call That Changed Everything
One morning, Naresh’s phone rang. It was Jayanti, a school friend who had stayed back in Dharwad. Her cheerful voice brought a moment of comfort. Naresh had wanted to meet her since his return, but their plans always fell through for one reason or another. Despite their frequent phone calls, the meeting remained elusive, leaving Naresh wondering why it never seemed to work out.
“Guess who’s coming to town? Geeta! Remember her?” Jayanti said with her usual cheerful ease, the same lighthearted charm that made her beloved by everyone.
Naresh frowned. “Geeta? The veterinary doctor? Thin as a stick? Too tall for a girl? Double-decker? Coconut tree? Matchstick? Carrom board?” He chuckled, recalling how the boys teased her endlessly. She was nicknamed 'haddi' and 'plain dosa,' ridiculed for her bony frame and lack of curves. Her pale complexion earned her nicknames like 'milk bottle' and 'ghost girl.' Even her slightly nasal, hurried voice became a joke. Back then, the teasing felt like harmless school banter. But now, Naresh wondered if those names had left deeper scars than they realized. Did Geeta still carry those wounds beneath the success she had built over the years?
“You boys and your nicknames! Always picking on girls like her. Do you even realize how mean you were back then?” Jayanti said with a light chuckle. “Poor girl! We used to tell her to ignore you idiots and focus on her studies. And look at her now, having the last laugh. She’s coming back after twenty years, settled in Denmark, and making it big in veterinary research and business.”
Naresh burst out laughing, his voice warm and teasing through the phone. “And you, Jayanti? Teased? Never! The boys couldn’t stop admiring you. You had that effortless charm—the kind that made heads turn the moment you walked by. Sure, there were other pretty girls, but you? You had this magic about you. Those curves, that smile, the way you carried yourself—it drove us all crazy. If only I had the courage back then to say what I’m saying now!”
Jayanti’s laughter rang out, rich and musical. “You boys were impossible back then,” she teased, her voice turning low and almost breathy. “But thank you, Naresh. No one’s reminded me of those days—or how I was back then—in such a long time. You’ve made me blush in ways I’d forgotten I could.”
They laughed heartily, sharing old memories and playful banter. Before hanging up, Jayanti teased Naresh for being as incorrigible as ever. He promised to meet her soon, though thoughts of Geeta began to stir faintly in his mind.
Naresh agreed to meet Geeta, her name stirring no particular emotion. To him, she was just another face from school—or so he believed.
Strange First Meeting
Days later, a sleek black car glided to a halt in front of Naresh's house. A smartly uniformed chauffeur stepped out, opening the rear doors with precision. From one side, Jayanti emerged, her face lighting up with a vibrant smile as she waved enthusiastically.
"Naresh! Look at you! Same old clueless look," she teased, her voice brimming with warmth. She strode toward him, extending her arms for an embrace.
"And now, meet Geeta," she announced with a dramatic flourish.
From the other door, Geeta stepped out, her movements deliberate, almost regal. Her silk saree shimmered under the sunlight, flowing around her like liquid gold. She stood tall, her sharp, piercing gaze locking onto Naresh, stripping away his composure. It wasn’t just a look—it was a command, a quiet assertion of dominance. The tension was palpable until Jayanti’s cheerful energy broke through, her radiant presence cutting the atmosphere like a beam of light through storm clouds.
“Naresh, you haven’t changed a bit! Still the same dreamer,” she teased with a knowing smile. “Bet you didn’t expect to see Geeta like this, did you?”
Naresh took a hesitant step forward, his eyes locked on Geeta as though struggling to connect the awkward, skinny girl from school to the poised, magnetic woman before him. Her elegance was captivating, her presence commanding, almost as if she were a different person entirely. He marveled at the transformation—it was extraordinary, almost unreal, leaving him both amazed and unsettled.
Geeta extended her hand, her smile polite but guarded. “It’s been a long time, Naresh.”
Naresh shook her hand, noticing the firmness of her grip. “Twenty-five years, give or take,” he said lightly, though her presence weighed heavier than he expected.
A boy of about ten trailed behind her, eyes downcast, clutching a toy elephant. He glanced up briefly, his gaze unsettlingly blank, before retreating behind Geeta’s flowing saree. Naresh tried to make small talk, but the boy remained silent. To Naresh's surprise, neither Geeta nor Jayanti made any effort to cajole him into introducing himself or greeting 'Naresh uncle,' something usually expected of boys his age in such situations.
Naresh paused as Geeta stepped closer, her sharp eyes tracing his face, searching for remnants of the boy she once knew.
Jayanti broke the silence with a playful grin. “Naresh, you’re looking great! School days haven’t left much of a mark on you,” she quipped. Geeta smiled faintly, but her eyes remained distant, unreadable.
“You’ve aged well, Naresh,” Geeta said, her tone polite but distant. Naresh forced a laugh, his unease masked behind a smile.
“Oh, don’t let him fool you, Geeta,” Jayanti cut in with a laugh. “He acts clueless, but he always had a way of saying just the right thing to keep everyone guessing.”
Just then, Naresh’s dogs, usually friendly, growled the moment they saw her. Their ears flattened, tails stiff, and teeth bared, as though sensing something invisible yet menacing.
“Geeta, meet my gang,” Naresh said, gesturing to Gappi, Sandy, and Coco.
Geeta crouched with effortless grace, her calm smile steady. “Shhh... good girls,” she murmured, her voice soft and melodic. The dogs froze mid-growl, their bodies stiff as if held by an invisible grip. Moments later, they whimpered and retreated, tails tucked and ears pinned back, slinking to the far end of the compound. It felt as though an unseen force had subdued them, leaving Naresh uneasy as he silently observed the strange scene.
Naresh forced a laugh, but his eyes stayed on the dogs. Their behavior was unrecognizable, almost primal. "They’ve never acted like this before," he muttered, his voice faltering. A chilling thought crept in—what if they saw something he couldn’t?
"Animals sense things we don’t," Geeta said, her soft voice carrying a strange finality. The sentence seemed to hang in the air, heavier than it should have, as if daring him to question it. Naresh shivered, his instincts urging him to break the silence, but no words came.
The words seemed to linger unnaturally, filling the space with an oppressive stillness. Naresh shivered slightly, the air around him feeling colder than it should have. Forcing a laugh to dispel the unease, his eyes remained fixed on Geeta. Her tone—measured, almost unnervingly assured—carried a weight that unsettled him deeply.
They talked for hours, laughter ringing through the room as snacks and tea flowed non-stop, courtesy of Naresh’s household staff. Memories of school pranks, mutual friends, and life since parting kept the conversation alive, breaking any lingering awkwardness and pulling them back to their carefree youth.
Geeta spoke evenly about her life in Denmark—her thriving veterinary practice, her marriage to a busy surgeon, and her daughter staying back to finish school. Her tone was steady, almost too practiced, as if these details had been recited countless times before. Yet, her gaze lingered on Naresh, not with warmth, but with a probing intensity, as though she were gauging his every reaction rather than sharing her story. Meanwhile, Naresh couldn’t help but notice her son’s unsettling stillness. He sat rigid, fists clenched, staring blankly at the wall. His wide, unblinking eyes seemed fixed on something invisible, something no one else could see. The boy’s unnatural demeanor sent a chill through Naresh, and for a fleeting moment, he questioned whether the child truly belonged to this world.
When they left, Naresh’s dogs rushed back, barking wildly, their tails stiff and ears alert. They circled the house, sniffing and whining at the door as if to ensure the intruder was truly gone. Even after retreating, their nervous eyes darted about, and low growls rumbled deep in their throats, as though the air still carried the trace of something unnatural.
Later that night, as Naresh lay in bed, shadows stretched across the walls like searching fingers, their movement too deliberate for his comfort. Each time he shifted, the darkness seemed to shift with him, as though it had a will of its own. His pulse quickened. Was it just the breeze—or something watching from within the room? Once or twice, he thought he saw a figure shift in the corner, but when he looked, it was gone—only the faint creak of wood settling broke the stillness. He tried convincing himself it was just the breeze rustling the curtains. Sleep eluded him. Somewhere, a dog howled, its mournful cry blurring the line between the world outside and the unease within his mind.
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