These things have a way of nagging your mind and keep working like a wee worm in your thought process. Hence I decided to take steps to settle the matter. That evening, after field work, I asked the watchman to open the locked doors of the annexe so that we could take a good look inside. He readily obliged.
Behind our rooms was a very big hall with crystal chandeliers and with stuffed chairs and sofas arranged in a semi-circular fashion with a piano, violin and a few other musical instruments in a corner. They were all covered with cloth and were thick with dust. A big carpet was rolled and placed against a wall. Dutt was watching me with amusement at my growing bewilderment. The watchman, on his own, opened a side door which led to other rooms, one of which was a billiards room! At the very centre of this room was an authentic billiards table - its rich green baize being protected by a dusty and soiled cover. Above this table were three large oil-lamps suspended from the high ceiling. There were two rows of such lamps and all the four sides of these two rows of lamps had mirrors to reflect light onto the table. On the sides were the billiard cues standing upright with the billiard balls in wooden drawers. Dutt did not say a word and was closely watching my growing discomfiture.
I have to now stress that this was Dutt's first visit to this place and so was mine. He didn't even have the faintest idea that there was an annexe, though I, having been in the service of the state, was aware of its existence. How then did he narrate the experience of the first night? On some probing, he told me that this sharpness had developed in him due to his frequent visits to cremation grounds. I had nothing to say but had to wait for another occasion to verify this mystery.
Dutt's experience haunted me - I wanted to experience what he did. Some years later, on different field assignments, I had occasions to visit Pratapnagar twice and stay in the same room that Dutt had occupied. Despite being on an all-night vigil, I was sorely disappointed and all that was there was silence. On a later occasion, I invited a friend and my brother-in-law from Madras to spend a couple of days in summer at Pratapnagar. Another friend who was already in his late forties forced himself on us, though we tried to discourage him saying that the trek would be too difficult for him (ultimately we had to arrange for a palanquin from a nearby village halfway). So ultimately we were four in the group who made it to that annexe.
At the annexe, in the room occupied earlier by Dutt, was only one cot, and hence we left it for our elderly companion, even as we accommodated ourselves in the room occupied by me earlier. It being summer, the three of us went up to the very crest of the ridge very early next morning to experience the exhilaration of the grand snowy peaks catch the first rays of the rising sun. We might have spent a couple of hours before joining our elderly friend at the annexe for breakfast. Upon our return, as we caught a glimpse of his face, we could clearly see the ghastly look he sported. On excitedly asking him the reason of his dismay, he gave an account of his experiences of the previous night. It seems he too heard noises behind his room that left him sleepless throughout the night. And even more, he heard the sound of falling drops of water just behind him. If he walked, it followed him; if he sat, he heard it drop just near him. And no drops of water were seen on the floor! I pointed out to him that there was no water supply in the annexe, and that water had to be brought from 60 feet below. He was adamant that he wanted to leave Pratapnagar and move back to Tehri even if it meant going there alone. We hence had to cancel our plans of staying on and were forced to descend to Tehri.
(To be continued...)
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