Bride in the Wilderness

Kunal’s ‘mama’ was just a couple of years elder to him and they were more friends than relatives. Every time he came home during summer breaks, they would go out to some or the other dhaba on the outskirts of the city, and catch up on what happened since they last met.

This time they had a great evening; the food was good and beer chilled. It was 11:30 and it would take them an hour to reach home

Mama threw the half-burnt cigarette on the muddy ‘kaccha’ road and kick-started the bike. The desert wind had started getting cool. “We should have brought our jackets”, Kunal said. “Enjoy yaar, don’t talk like your mother”, Mama rebuked him for his feminine cautiousness. Alcohol always made him delirious; Kunal thought and took a few deep breaths. The ritual always helped him stay sober.

The road from highway dhaba to the city was lonely but for the few poorly lit villages. When will the damn government people electrify the whole of India? His indignation petered out when he thought about Chicago – yet another Electrical engineer from a premier institute was going to land of opportunities. “They can wait”, He shrugged off and sat tight on the bike. Mama was peering into the darkness and negotiating yet another upward incline.

Their eyes were dazzled by the bright lights as they approached the top of the incline. They could see the village at a distance, but why was it so brightly lit?

There was something eerie about the whole thing, something out-of-place. Mama had stopped whistling.

After some time, they could see the outline of a figure moving in the centre of road. Kunal tried to express his shock, but nothing came out. Suddenly, he realized that the bike was slowing down.

The figure was clearer now – a fully dressed Rajasthani bride. She was still moving slowly, in the middle of the road with their back to them. They were continuously losing speed and getting closer to the enigmatic figure. Kunal’s forehead was wet with perspiration despite the cold breeze. Mama was also stunned into silence.

Now, they were just 50 meters from the bride. They could clearly hear the jingling sound of her paayal. In any other situation, Kunal would have whistled at her wildly swaying hips. But now, he was mumbling whatever religious prayers came handy.

They had cruised to within10 meters of the lady spook. Mama had his hands at the throttle, but to no avail; bike was nearly dead. Kunal was sure their heartbeats were being heard in Kota. Then they saw it, the most dreadful piece of evidence – the feet were all wrong.

Their bike was adjacent to the ghoul. Speedometer needle had dropped to 0. Both were looking hysterically at the road ahead, none able to muster the courage to see the figure walking to their left.

And then the unthinkable happened – the bike started moving, as if slowly pushed by a hidden force; Mama had already taken his hands off the throttle. The speed kept picking up till speedometer started showing 50.

Kunal pinched Mama and he shrieked like a mad man. Pulled out of the daze, he put his hands back at the throttle and gear. The bike resumed its journey as they passed the milestone bearing “Kota 12 Kms”.

Kunal looked at the rear view mirror – the lights were out, the bride had vanished.