Section 1: Days of peril

Who dares wins

Journey back home

I reached Mumbai from Bhuj by an evening flight of February 15, and covered another 300 kilometers by train to reach Surat for some personal work. When I moved from Surat to Vadodara in the chair car of a train on the morning of 18th a new surprise and   challenge shocked me.

 Feminine travelers of the compartment were displaying the same trait as the Khasi women of Umroi weekly mart. They were equally attractive and potent in driving me to passion. Logic drew a simple inference: the spirit over my head is in the rank of a goddess. She could draw her energy and strength not only from Khasi feminine folk of queen Malun but also whole female community in reproductive age in any part of India.  She also possessed potential to drown me forcibly in the sea of passion using females as mediums to meet out her energy requirements for operating Tantra. 

I was watching helplessly between Surat and Vadodara that my alien was pumping energy of the females in the compartment to madden me like a ram. I was unable to counter her attack.

When I reached Vadodara and checked in the Airport hotel, attack of Malun reached its acme, forcing me to ejaculation. She avenged her defeat of Bhuj and the ensuing demoralization due to her success in Tantra set my heart sinking. Khasi spirit on my head was hypnotizing, possessing   and commanding me at her will once again.

 “She will defeat me in conjugation wherever she gets a large number of females in reproductive age,” I muttered to myself.

Cities will make me miserable was a foregone conclusion.  I proved to be a winner only in a desert with hardly any women around. Malun had reinforced her strength due to females in the chair car and demonstrated her potential to overpower me within three hours. I am unable to counter her strength and force in a Tantra due to her  mediums, I concluded. Again, we are not wrestlers in a keg who will shake hand after the bouts are over. Malun and her goddess may not leave me so long I breathe and walk. The spirit failed to murder me at Isamati. She may not rest in peace till she has seen me as dead and cremated.

 Women roam in clusters everywhere in every town these days. Victory, if destined for me, would come to me only after years of struggle, I speculated.  A cloud of depression was over me in the loneliness of the hotel room.

 My sagging morale forced me to go out of the hotel in search of a ray of hope.

 I knocked the door of Mr. Prakashkar Shastri, my respected Sanskrit teacher of yester years. He was an encyclopedia of Hindu knowledge. My teacher delivered a sermon on an unusual topic possibly by an innate drive. He talked about the karmas of the people in the terminal life.

 “For them every sphere of life is dark and unhappy. Enjoyments due to them were already availed by them in previous lives. Sins, curses and miseries of the past alone remain as residues after their positive karmas are over. Their last life is merely a pack of disasters as they cover remaining journey on the last milestone on the path of truth and righteousness for their Moksh or liberation. They have no option but to continue suffering till their body falls.” Mr. Shastri concluded.

An astrologer had told me long ago that existing life of mine was last for me; it would land me on glorious height of ‘liberation’ in the end. My teacher’s lecture did not depress me, therefore. It only acted as a balm to relieve my aching backbone under the crushing weight of Lonkha’s intimidation. The two strengthened my will to accept, withstand and resist even heavier loads of torture from the goddess and Malun in future. My mind now chose to focus on my future target on account of astrologer’s foretelling and teacher’s lecture.

“I will not let her kill me in abject surrender as she wants; let me suffer the miseries of my past karmas due to me. I must keep fighting against the spirit using all my intelligence and logic,”   I resolved while returning to the hotel after visiting and hearing an erudite Brahmin.

I had a rueful smile while I was departing from Airport Hotel of Vadodara to board my flight to Delhi next day. My moral was sinking again. Destiny had pitted me against a frail woman spirit riding over me by force of Tantra. ‘To live by sword and die by sword’ meant an honorable end for me in past lives; but, despicable would be my death in the present life under the possession of Malun.

An uneasy and sullen mind was tying the seatbelt of the plane to Delhi, speculating situations to be faced at Dehradun. ‘Who dares wins’ has a limited scope in my case, hardly applicable in the battle against Malun. I alone am living; the enemy is dead long ago. How do I kill the active spirit of Malun to stop her hounding me? Malun was continuing with me since I departed from Isamati.

Can we kill spirits? No one believes in its possibility.