The House of Strange Stories

The White Pigeon by Ruskin Bond

            About fifty years ago in Dehradun, there lived a very happily married couple -- an English colonel and his wife. They were both enthusiastic gardeners and their beautiful bungalow was covered with bougainvillea, while in garden, the fragrance of the jasmine challenged the sweet fragrance of the honeysuckle. They had lived together many years when the wife suddenly became very ill. Nothing could be done for her. As she lay dying, she told her family and her servants that she would return to the garden in the form of a white pigeon, so that she could be near her husband and the place she loved so dearly. 

Years passed, but no white pigeon appeared. The colonel was lonely; and when he met an attractive widow, a few years younger to him, he married her and brought her home to his beautiful house. But as he was carrying his new bride through the porch and up the verandah steps, a white pigeon came fluttering into the garden and perched on a jasmine bush. There it remained for a long time, cooing and murmuring a sad, subdued song. 

Afterwards, it entered the garden everyday and alighted on the jasmine bush, where it would call sadly and persistently. The servants became upset and frightened. They remember the dying promise of their former mistress, and they were convinced that her spirit dwelt in the white pigeon. 

When she heard the story, the Colonel's new wife was very upset. When the Colonel saw how troubled she was, he decided to do something about it. So when the pigeon appeared the mext day, he took his gun and slipped out of the house, steathily making his way down the verandah steps. When he saw the pigeon on the jasmine bush, he raised his gun and fired. 

There was a woman's high-pitched scream. And then the pigeon flew away, its white breast dark with blood

The same night the Colonel died in his sleep. No one ever knew the reason for his sudden death. When I looked up the cause of death in the local Burial Register, I saw that it had been given as 'respiratory failure'. In other words, he had just stopped breathing.

The Colonel's widow left Dehradun, and the beautiful bungalow fell into ruin. You can still see the ruins on the banks of the Bindal watercourse. The garden has become a jungle, and jackals slink through the roofless rooms. 

The Colonel was buried in the grounds of his estate, and the gravestone is still there, although the inscription has long disappeared. 

Few people pass that way. But those who do say that they have often seen a white pigeon resting on the grave, and that on its white breast a crimson stain could be noticed.