The Final Coup

The Final Coup(Anagha S Setlur) “THE FINAL COUP”
27th JUNE, 1974.
9:00PM

The freezing cold night accompanied by the thunderous rain, was engulfing me thoroughly. The sound of the thunder curbed the quiet, tranquil noises of the night. The only other thing that could be heard was the clatter of the rolling wheels of the tonga that I was on, the clashing of the horses’ hooves on grey stones and pebbles and the efforts of the man abreast of me to carry forward this light two wheeled vehicle, in this rain and cold. I pulled my leather jacket further down my arms to stop the shivering, but it was to no avail. Abruptly, the driver stopped. He turned towards me and said, “This is it sir! My tonga cannot pull any further in this weather! My horses seem to have tired.”

I looked around and saw that the lane was deserted. I couldn’t find a single living soul apart from myself and the driver for kilometers to go. Deep down, I trembled. When I expressed this to the driver, he lifted his finger and pointed to somewhere south of our location. My eyes scanned the area and when my vision adjusted, I could see a massive bungalow straight ahead. I thanked him, paid handsomely for his services, collected my suitcase and left. The mansion looked dilapidated and medieval. Archaic, was a better term to use. I imagined it to be solitary and this brought in me a feeling of fear. Up ahead, a ferret flew out of the chimney.
The door bell was covered with creepers and climbers. I pressed it and for further confirmation of the arrival of a visitor, knocked on the high wooden doors. There was not a noise or two from the inside, but after a moment the doors creaked open. There stood an old withered man in his seventies with a kind look and a sympathetic smile. “Yes?” he asked.
“Good evening, sir. My name is Akash Rao and I am a traveler. I am in the outskirts of this village and am on my way to the city. But as you perhaps happen to know, there aren’t any places nearby for me to reside at this moment and it is too bad a weather to carry on my journey further. If you could be kind enough to put me up for tonight, I’d be more than thankful”, I announced dubiously.
“It is not for me to decide sir, I am an old man. Please enter and I will show you to the people who own this house. They can tell you.”
“Thank you”.

The living room, just like the exteriors was colossal. The furniture, the ornamental decorations that were hung to the roof and walls, as well as the rooms were old and not of this time. The entire mansion was gothic. There were two middle aged people in the house, Mr. Arun and his wife Minnie. Both of them were charming and hospitable. After having told them the reason for my arrival, they conceded and it was decided that I get to sleep in a guest room, on the first floor. The conversations then commenced.
“You seem to be a rich man, Mr. Rao”, exclaimed Arun all of a sudden.
“Well, not exactly. But I am a traveler and I happen to make small fortunes here and there. Please call me Akash.”
“So you travel a lot is it, Akash? Is this your first time here?”
“As a matter of fact, it is. I was in this village visiting one of my distant relative and was on my way to the city, when I got caught here in the terribly frigid weather and decided to stay the night. I hope it is not inconvenient for you.” I added looking at the owner with puzzled eyes.
“Of course not. It is our privilege to have company after a really long time. Nobody comes here other than the milkman. He brings our newspapers too. It is a very remote village, don’t you think?” He added with a smirk.
“I suppose it is.”
“You must be hungry!” cut in his wife, giving her husband an angry look and silencing him. “Come, dinner will be ready and will be served by this old man here. Quick Ramu!”
This rude remark struck him hard and with sorrowful eyes and head bent low he sauntered to the kitchen to get things ready. ‘They aren’t as compassionate and generous as I had anticipated them to be’, I thought.
~~~
27th JUNE, 1974.
10:30PM.
Dinner was done and it was extravagant. The crispy, thin dosas, big round chapattis and chutney, rice, sambar and curds. The typical south Indian meal which was prepared and served by our old man, Ramu. It was finally time to take a walk around the house with Mr. Arun and get to know more about this gothic environment. We were in one of the ancient libraries that were kept locked most of the time, but were shown only when there were visitors. “Who are they?” I asked Arun, pointing to a portrait of a woman in a white sari, with the pallu draped over her head sitting on a medieval chair and a sturdy man standing beside her. The painting strokes were neatly done.
“Oh that? They are my grandparents. Here, come this way. Look closely at this portrait of my parents. The other portrait to the left is of Minnie’s mother.”
“What about her father?”
“Oh her father died in an accident. It is a sad thing. There is nobody left for us to be called as a family, other than Ramu, our servant. He is a pain sometimes too.”
“Oh.” I said, for there was no other term I could use as an exclamation for Mr. Arun’s lame sentence.
He proceeded. “My grandmother here, with this white sari was murdered in this very mansion. A group of thugs broke into the house at midnight and in a thirst for money and jewels saw my grandmother waking up to the noises they made and stabbed her to death. There was nobody to save her and I saw her being murdered. I was too young and ever too afraid to even come out of the closet in which I was hiding. Grandfather and my parents were out on a business trip. Even to this day when I think about that incident where I could have done something to save her, my heart writhes in pain. I always talk about this to Minnie and she says I am still hanging on to a ghost. Do you think it is true?”
The question took me aback. “Well I don’t know sir. It is natural that the past sometimes clings on to us, rather than we clinging on to them. It never leaves us, even if we have fought with it and fought hard and thrown it away or locked it safely in a drawer. It always comes back to us, in one way or another. Perhaps it is all in the mind, or perhaps not.”
“Hm. You seem to be a little philosophical, but you’re right at that. That is probably the reason why some people say, that her spirit never left the mansion. It lingers here as a ghost, wandering between the two worlds of heaven and hell. The ghost of the past.”
It was just about at this time when there was a sudden wind and the windows flew open blowing away the unkempt papers and the uncanny documents kept near the sill. Both of us dived in to catch it and that was when I saw it through the open window. A sleek figure with long black hair walking cautiously and steadily away from the mansion towards the garden. No, it wasn’t walking. It seemed to be…..drifting. A woman, in a white sari with the pallu draped over her head just like in the portrait of Arun’s grandmother. My eyes for one moment did not shift away from that sight. I started to get phasmophobic. I couldn’t think. “Mr. Arun! Come right here!” I called out, looking for him. He was at my side anon and asked me what the matter was. “Look over there! Do you know who that is? Is she one of the servants who work here?” I asked him anticipating a calm response.
“Who Akash? Who are you referring to? I don’t see anybody outside. Are you okay?”
I peered out the window only to find a calm wind sauntering across the garden and the heavy rain turn to a light drizzle. I must have been hallucinating. It seemed surreal. “Oh.” I said again.
“I must be extremely tired, sir. I better retire for the night”, I replied sullenly and thanked him for a good meal and went off to search for my room where my suitcase had already been deposited.
~~~
27th JUNE, 1974.
11:59PM.
I tossed and twisted to the left and tried to calm myself and get a shut eye. I turned to the right again, this time kicking away the sheets. Brrr… it felt cold and I shivered and pulled back the sheets over me again. The coldness did not vanish, nor did the feeling of sleeplessness. Something seemed absolutely wrong and it prevented me from falling asleep. It had hardly been half an hour since I had swung myself on the soft mattress and sleep was far, far away from swallowing me. What’s wrong with you, Akash? I asked myself. Or was it someone else?
Groaning loudly, I awoke for a drink of water. Damn! The jug beside my bed was empty. I had to now go all the way down in this horrifying house. Almighty alone knew what lurked behind those curtains that made it blow so fiercely? Shaking my head, I descended the stairs one after the other, every step I took causing the eerie creaking noise, my phasmophobia reappearing again. The wind chimes tinkled at a nearby open window and this made me hasten my steps. At the end of the last stair, I happened to witness something dark and gooey fallen on the floor. I did not take much notice of it and went to the kitchen (left of the staircase, thankfully) for the water. On my way up, my eyes wandered to the dark liquid on the floor again. A spot had increased to a pool, within a matter of two minutes. Yes, it was increasing further still, when I noticed a drop fall on my head. I looked up and found blood dripping from the first floor. Blood! My breathing became faster and I started hyperventilating. It was then, that I ran and banged the doors of my overnight owners’ room and woke them up.
“Mr. Arun! Sir!” I screamed and banged on their door which was opened immediately. They did not look sleepy, but ran with me down the stairs to the place where the blood dripped. Ramu had arrived by then and he seemed artificially shaken. I pointed to the pool of blood that had by now formed a big, dark, oval pool of blood at the bottom of the staircase. Mr. Arun was taken aback. “Oh my god! What is this?!”, said he and bounded up to the first floor, his wife and myself following closely behind.
“This must be the place from where it is dripping! But I can’t see any blood here!” Mr. Arun shouted.
“There isn’t anything or anybody too! Ramu! I hope you are not playing one of your cunning gimmicks with us now, are you?”, enquired his wife, Minnie.
Ramu came up the stairs panting. “No madam, I have not done anything. My wakefulness was an outcome of our guest’s screams and bangs madam. I was fast asleep.”
Not a word came out of anybody’s lips. After an extended period of uncomfortable silence, Mr. Arun spoke inaudibly, looking at me and then Ramu. “This room in which we are all standing, was the place my grandmother was murdered brutally by those thugs. It was many years ago.”
Mrs. Arun aka Minnie gave a gasp. I covered my mouth with my hands and looked down, panicky. Ramu seemed quiet. “What are you saying, sir!” I asked in a vivid but very loud voice.
“What I am saying is the truth, Akash! You were probably right when you spoke about the past that never leaves us! Or when I told you that her spirit did not leave our house!”
Closing my ears, I dashed out of the room in the direction of the living room, down the stairs. There would be no sleep tonight. The last words I heard were that of Mr. Arun’s telling Ramu to clean up the bloody mess.
~~~
28th JUNE, 1974.
12:30AM.
I sat awake on the settee, with a book in hand reading by the light of the candle and simultaneously watching Ramu wipe the floor. Mr. Arun monitored him constantly grumbling something under his breath. His wife had gone off to rest awhile.
“Has this happened anytime before, Mr. Arun?” I questioned him.
“No. As a matter fact, this is the first time, such bizarre and….and gory occurrences have taken place. I do not think there is any rational explanation for this, Akash. There have been reports of course of people seeing apparitions. But those weren’t taken too seriously, since most visitors who came here were either half drunk or half asleep!” He came closer to me now and whispered in hushed tones, “Unless it wasn’t Ramu who has been doing these to scare us.” I gave him a quizzical look and sat down again with my book. I looked at Ramu and he almost had tears in his eyes. He had heard us. I gazed out the window and knew there was no escape at this hour. The rain had ceased but the blowing of the frigidly cold wind had scaled up. Annoyed with my book, I set it down.
“What’s the matter, Akash? Book giving you trouble? Which is that anyway?” Mr. Arun asked me.
“Wuthering Heights, by Emily Bronte”, I answered without giving him a reason for my annoyance. It was full of the same gothic castles and mansions, solitary lanes, with old furniture and portraits. That vexed me. There was no power here during the nights, or so Mr. Arun told me. He bade me to go back to sleep but I refused to get back into that creepy first floor room. I decided to wait until morning before entering that room again. The others retired soon enough and I was left to my thoughts again. But now in the huge living room. It had hardly been a quarter to one, when the eerie creaking sounds were heard. I did not bother to wake anybody up this time, thinking I’d be a menace to the household. I stay put on the settee and listened intently. One, two, three…..one, two, three….one, two, three. I heard the footsteps distinctly, and it followed the one, two, three pattern. It came from the floor directly above me. I wondered if Mr. Arun and his wife were up but no, they were fast asleep in a different room. Yes, it came from the room where Mr. Arun had said that his grandmother was murdered. Brutally. There it was again. . One, two, three…..one, two, three….one, two, three. I held my breath and wished for it to stop. It did but this time, the steps could be heard coming closer, closer and closer. The sound reverberated throughout the ghastly mansion. Suddenly, it ceased. Bang! A window banged open and the wind blew inside fiercely. A chair that stood at the far end of the hall started rocking. The wind did not reach so far! I panicked! It must be a malevolent spirit! Otherwise, it wouldn’t have made use of dripping blood to scare us. My heart was in my mouth. That feeling of loneliness, in that solitary house was devastating. Almost to the point of causing me depression. Never had I felt this sort of fear, ever before. I am a man of 23. But ghosts?! Anybody would have their legs shaking if this was something they had encountered.
On the spur of a moment, everything stopped. The wind, the rocking chair, the footsteps. Things returned to the way it was the first time I set foot in this house. The silence of the night surged softly back and my heartbeat was the loudest noise of all.
~~~
28th JUNE, 1974.
3:00AM.
Yes, I was going mad. When the haunting occurred, it made me quiver. When the silence reappeared, it depressed me, since I waited in anticipation of the next paranormal activity. 3:00AM is considered to be the ‘evil-time’. What drew my attention was the ringing of an alarm clock at three early morning somewhere higher up in the mansion. I could hear the phantoms whispering quietly in a language I did not recognize. It probably might have been my imagination, after having gone through so much, but yes I was certain there was something going on in this weird house. Sleep was nowhere near me, as it was before midnight. I looked back and stared at my reflection in the mirror hung behind me. The eyes looked weary and the face fearful with anxiety. I felt I now experienced spectrophobia. The morbid fear of mirrors and one’s own reflection. I was totally on the verge of having a nervous breakdown.
Concurrently, there was a loud knock on the front door. Or was it a scratch? I couldn’t exactly say. It happened again and it was a scratch, like a dog or a puppy trying to get away from this weather and seeking attention for wanting a warm shelter. The scratch was there again and thinking better of it, I gathered up my manly courage and seeing nobody around (Ramu seemed to be snoring away somewhere); I started unchaining the huge and intricately carved oak doors. The loud noise of the doors opening must have surely awoken the owners of the house, but since nobody showed any appearance I went outside to look for the poor animal. Water drops fell on my head making it look like small beads of diamond. The drizzle was still on, but I couldn’t find any animal of any sort. There was no dog or pup or a cat in sight. Thinking it must have wandered off a bit further, I stepped down the porch and that was when something pushed me and hit me hard on the back of my head. I was unable to turn back to see what it was that did it. It must have been the spirit I assumed and ere long, I was enveloped in a huge tapestry of stars and then, blackness……
~~~
28th JUNE, 1974.
4:30AM.
It was all coming back to me, gradually. I did not quite know where I was or what had happened initially. But the smell of chafed wood brought me back to my consciousness. My sense of vision was a bit blurred so I did not take the trouble of fluttering my eyelids or moving my lips to talk. The head ache was pretty bad since I was coshed so I refrained from moving too. My ears though could hear faint voices. There were sounds of shuffling feet and then some noises far up ahead in the first floor. I gauged three adversely pitched voices, although muffled. One of it was of a higher pitch and I sensed that to be Mrs. Arun’s (Minnie’s). They were coming down now and I lay still not wanting to return to the activities of the haunted house.
“How much was there? Did you check his suitcase?”
“Well, as he mentioned earlier not too much but it is indubitably a small fortune worthy of undertaking this entire nuisance. A sum larger than all the previous visitors carried, don’t you think Minnie?”
“Yes. But Arun, this surely is our last coup, isn’t it?” asked the lady hopefully. “I really am tired of being your grandmother, moving about in a white sari and scaring people off.”
“It is Minnie. The amount we have collected by our methods make up a good sum, enough for our future. We can stop all this once we get rid of this young pest. He sure was an unusual victim taking into consideration our methods which were wilder too. Ramu! Where are you?”
“The old bones must be taken care of too, Arun. He doesn’t give us a hand in any of our works. Withered man, he is! Ramu!” she called.
“Yes madam”, said Ramu kindly, with a note of apathy in his voice.
“Where had you been? Keep this bag of money in the locker and don’t try to steal a penny! Get that? Now go.”
“It is almost dawn now, Minnie. How do you propose we get rid of this young man? Dispose him off like the other drunkards? The estate is huge and can accommodate one more burial site, can’t it?” he mocked.
“Is he still unconscious?” she placed a firm hand on my head and twisted it to the right.
The pain that shot through my brain was unbearable. Control, Akash! I soliloquized inside my head. Haunted mansion!? So everything was a set up! The lady adorning a white sari, the blood dripping off the roof, the whispers of the phantoms, the footsteps right above, the rocking of the chair, the banging open of the windows! Every single thing. The realization hit me and it hit me hard. At the time of every incident, either one or both of them seemed to be missing. Minnie had posed as the grandmother in a white sari, with the pallu draped over her head just outside the window of the library. The water jug beside my bed was kept empty purposely so that I was compelled to go down to the kitchen and discover this so called blood dripping from the ceiling. Mr. Arun offered his false sympathies to shift my attention by asking about the book. It was then, that Minnie had stealthily gotten up the stairs to the room above to make those noises of the walking footsteps. The footsteps seemed light and could not have been Mr. Arun’s since she was the one missing during the conversation, having an alibi that she was resting in her room for a while. The opening of the window from the outside was done by one person who stayed out and the other stayed inside. The rocking of the chair however was diabolical to me. There wasn’t any window nearby and the wind could not go all the way to the corner, could it? But I assumed it to be one of their tricks.
The one thing that still remained a mystery to me was the person who coshed me in the head. Was Ramu involved in this? Or was he just a pawn in their games and was benevolent? I couldn’t tell. My decision to lay unmoved proved to be a fine one that helped me discover this household’s vile ghosts. The temper in me rose and I could not control it any longer. The moment Ramu came back, I opened my eyes wide and plunged at Mr. Arun bringing him down to the ground.
“You scoundrel! This is how you have been betraying people’s trust and robbing them of their money!” I screamed.
“Stop!” wailed Minnie. But I refused to let go of this thug. He had robbed me entirely and nothing remained in my suitcase. My efforts of these many years of travel and business had been flushed down the drain.
Ramu stood at a corner silently, too weak to act. Mr. Arun on the contrary was strong enough to heave me aside. We always know the result of a fight, when two fights against one. The hospitable wife was no longer charming. She had transformed into a wild cat. The wife of a crook. She ran towards the back of the house and returned with a thick rope. Both of them ultimately succeeded in tying me up to a chair. I was tethered like a filthy cur with my hunters standing all around me and thus cornering me. I was cornered.
“I did not expect this from you, Akash!” said the bandit.
“Neither did I, from you, sir.” I said loathingly.
“It is our way and you are trapped in our mansion. There is no escape.”
I turned my gaze to Ramu who stood still, head bent low. Mr. Arun gave a loud laugh and sneered.
“Ramu, doesn’t help strangers and wanderers, Akash. He has been serving us for many years and will continue to do so, isn’t it Ramu?”
Ramu’s lips were sealed and I had no way out. This was the end. Mr. Arun and Minnie dragged me along with the chair to an abandoned room and locked me up for the night. I allowed my eyelids to droop and thought everything about this abominable house.
~~~
28th JUNE, 1974.
6:30AM.
There were light footsteps outside the door. I imagined that the detestable Minnie had come back for me to do something awful. The door creaked open slightly and a withered face peered inside. It was the old man, Ramu. Without warning, he hastened to remove the ropes that had cut through my arms for the last two hours. He had got a red bag with him. He thrust it into my hands and said, “Go”.
I thought I had heard him wrong. “What?” I said astonished.
“Yes, Sir. This is the money which they had purloined from your suitcase. Did you have anything more important? I hope not, sir. This would be a bad time to go up again. They might hear you. It is about time they awoke. The doors are open and ready for our escape sir.”
“Did you just say ‘our escape’?”
He lowered his eyes. “It has been many years since I have been working in this house and serving the members of this house with complete loyalty and dignity. Mr. Arun’s forefathers weren’t like him. They led a life full of grace and respect. But their successor, Mr. Arun married the wrong woman and got into this practice when both couldn’t raise money and earn their livelihood with honor. I was forced to stay with them, since I’d have broken my loyalty to the family otherwise. But living with them is a disgrace now, sir. I cannot bear their insults any further and have come to the conclusion of leaving behind this unruly life.” He answered humbly.
“But, this house isn’t haunted in real?”
“Rumors are everywhere, sir. It is true that Mr. Arun’s grandmother was murdered in this mansion by a group of desperate thieves. But the presence of apparitions and her spirit is not something which I’d advise a person to believe. It is plausible, but there haven’t been any austere unnatural occurrences other than the couple’s doings.”
I nodded my head. “We’d better get going.” I said.
The large oak door was slightly ajar and Ramu and I slipped through it closing it silently behind us.
~~~
28th JUNE, 1974.
7:00AM.
Having walked for a kilometer or two, Ramu then came to a stop. He was an old man and couldn’t go any further. It was also time that we parted and went our separate ways. These times always called for a nice goodbye that would be remembered as a sweet memory, rather than a clear break.
“Thank you for your help, Ramu. I will never forget your kindness”, I said with a smile.
“Kind people require kindness in return, sir. You are a good man. Would you be kind enough to do me a favor, sir?”
“Of course.”
“Please, do not inform the police once you reach the city. It would be a disgrace to the family and I am hoping that this will be their last coup. It is my assurance that they will not look for you, or do any harm for any more visitors who seek for a sojourn there. They will not get out.”
I thought it over. “How do you know that there wouldn’t be more incidences?”
Ramu smiled and replied, “Gut feeling”.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything, sir.”
“You seem to be a little perturbed about something. Is there anything the matter?” I asked.
Ramu smiled again. “I have told you before what I felt about leaving this house. I have served the family for many years. But, the grandmother was a very nice lady. It saddens me to see their own kins using the name of the dead grandmother to make money. Her death almost gave me a stroke. She was like a mother to me and accepted me into the family as a servant when I was orphaned. Such greatness is rarely observed and I will be forever indebted to her generosity. That is how I am bonded to this house and it disturbs me to leave it now, forever”, he mused. “The time has come.”
I did not quite comprehend his words, but I let it be and gave him the address of my new home, to where I was headed to in the city since I did not want to lose contact with this man. He assured me he had some family members in another village near the city and we parted ways after one last hug.
~~~
5th JULY, 1974.
9:00AM.
My sumptuous breakfast with my family was interrupted by the mailman.
“Letter for Mr. Akash Rao!” came the call.
I hurried outside to receive it. I was exhilarated when I saw who it was from. Yes, my savior Ramu. It had been a week since the sanguine incident had occurred and Ramu had written to me sooner than I had expected. I went inside eagerly to my breakfast table, sat down and tore open the letter. It read—
Dear Akash sir,
It is my joy to write to you and inform you that I have been accepted heartily by the relatives I mentioned to you ere we parted. I am enjoying my life here and I’m extremely happy. There is also a little girl, whom I have started to take care like my very own granddaughter. She calls me ‘Thata’. It brings me great peace.
But let me tell you the real reason as to why I wrote to you sooner than you had anticipated. I felt it necessary to convey this information to you, if not in a proper way. The very next night of our escape from that dilapidated mansion, Mr. Arun and Minnie madam were found dead in the courtyard of the house. The moment I received this information, I raced to the house to find that this in fact was true. But there is a catch. Their carcasses were found deep down inside a pre-dug pit in the large courtyard. They were buried the same way the couple buried all their victims. The courtyard had become a graveyard. When I inspected the house, there were bloodstained footsteps. It started at their bed and was seen again at the entrance of the courtyard and all around the pits in which their bodies were dumped. The grandmother’s white sari was spread out across the courtyard. There was NOT a soul around when this episode occurred. The blood was unquestionably real.
I left immediately, never wanting to return again, just when the crowd started to gather around the remote mansion. You can make what you can of it.
Sincere regards,
Ramu.
P.S: The grandmother’s portrait that was hung in the library had fallen apart completely and sprinkled with blood.
P.S.S: I received this information by a passerby, who claims to be the tonga driver who dropped you off at the mansion. He is now nowhere to be found.
The letter fell from my hands. I knew what to make of it. “My god!” I exclaimed. I reflected upon Ramu’s words and the cloud started to clear out. Ramu knew what was going to happen at the mansion when he said ‘gut feeling’. He knew the grandmother’s spirit was there all along trying to show its presence by small apparitions. But the drunkards and the couple did not understand it. Only Ramu did. With Ramu’s departure, the spirit put an end to all the gruesome activities in the house.
What this ghost would do now, I could not fathom. Would it leave the mansion, since Ramu had gone forever? Or would it continue to haunt the dreadful place? One thing was for sure. Be it from the spirit or the couple or the tonga driver, it was undeniably a frightful FINAL COUP.