The Boy and the Ghost

The Beginning

The world as Suresh would come to know it, was filled with omens, ridiculous coincidences and earth-bound spirits. The stories shared around hearths and dinner tables alike always had some truth to it.

There's always some reason for the ridiculous rules that mothers who were brought up in worlds filled with ghosts, prophecies, providence and ancient traditions, set in place for their ignorant children. Often to protect them from evils they remained blissfully unaware of.

Since Suresh was little, despite having the common sense to tell him otherwise, was often left scarred by his mother's tales of spirits and creatures that lurk in the dark. Restless and mischievous spirits that reside in big bhodi and banyan trees and small, green demons that steal money in the night.

Other stories he hated much more were the penanggal; a dismembered woman's head with hanging entrails that feast on little children and unborn babies and the langsuir; who were flying vampiric demonesses that scream and wail in the night.

And when he was younger, these tales often made him jumpy and easily terrified of movements in the shadows and the noises he heard at night. Often times he swore he saw figures in the darkness, people that vanished if he looked at them a second time or voices in empty streets with pin-drop silence.

This led to him not being to sleep alone till he was twelve and the habit of racing to his bedroom the second he switched off the lights in the kitchen at night. This also led him to having nightmares a lot, which meant getting out of bed crying and sleeping between his parents.

His mother also strongly believed in her superstitions. She proudly proclaimed she was correct if she said anything prior to the loud call of a cicak, and had him bring his textbooks and workbooks to the temple to be blessed if they ever touched the ground.

She also ritualistically cleansed the house with sambrani, an incense of benzoin resin and pungent sandalwood and if he ever fell sick or fell victim to unlucky bouts of coughing or tripping over nothing, she would roast dried chillies over the fire to ward off the evil eye.

"All the students' mothers are casting their eyes on you!" She said sagely. "That is why you fall sick, lah! They're all jealous of how smart you are. This is probably also why you never get highest in your year."

She did not say that out of spite, but rather because Suresh would never shut up about never getting the highest in his form. Or the highest in any of his subjects, but this wasn't because of old Indian aunties casting their eyes or some jealous classmate unknowingly cursing him.

It was all because of Jacob fucking Lam.

Stupid, shitty Jacob fucking Lam. He was the reason. If it weren't for him and his stupid big brain, good looks, comptetive ass and eidetic working mind. He was just another rich, stuck-up boy with charm and a cute smile that somehow makes teachers more sympathetic when grading his papers.

"It's not the evil eye, Amma." Suresh said exasperated, his tone sour with loathing. "It's Jacob Lam."

"Aiyo, again with this Jacob Lam nonsense." His mother sighed, obviously tired of hearing his name all the time.

Jacob Lam was his archenemy and rival for every competition, examination and contest since primary school. It all started in Primary 1, when Jacob showed off after Suresh misspelled a word during their Spelling Bee and Jacob laughed at him out loud. That's when the burning hatred started.

And in Primary 6, at the school's end of year talent show, Suresh was sure he was going to win with a self composed medley of Chopin, Beethoven and Alicia Keys, that he played masterfully on the piano but alas he was no match for a tall, conventionally attractive straight boy with average biceps and a sorta-okay voice.