Bombay Shaman: Nightmares at Dadar

PART I - The victim

It was there, the trace of a demon's darkness, in the ICU, behind the noisy door swinging to and fro. It froze Kumaran midway across the passage. He felt the maleficence on the other side of the glass, diffused in the air like a morbid toxin, smoky tendrils of faint black moving about in leisure.

"What happened?" Edha asked him, her folder in her hand.

He didn't say anything, not while focusing on the evil energy.

"What are you looking at?"

"Something is wrong–" he said, frowning.

"What do you mean?"

"Someone is in trouble there–"

"Kumaran, that's an ICU."

"No, I mean," He thought if it was of any use to tell her, and he knew for a fact it never was a sound idea or option. "Can ya take me in there?" He raised an eyebrow.

She looked at him puzzled.

"Just wanna see somethin; won't do anythin reckless." He smiled and waved his hands as if assuring her.

"Strange request, but you know I can't–"

"Pleaseee Edha, this is very important, trust me." He looked into her eyes.

She looked back. "I can't. Anything else but thi–"

"Please. Remember that day back in Chennai? In return for that."

She sighed. "Okay fine, but don't touch anything!"

"Gotcha! Thanks a lot!" He gently clapped his hands.

She raised a finger. "DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING!"

"Okay okayy, I heard ya."

She opened the door for him, shaking her head in disappointment. "You're going to get me killed. First day of yours in Bombay and you get into a fight, get a serious wound, and then you ask me to be your tour guide in the ICU of my hospital, just how weird is that."

"Just another day for me," he shrugged and walked in.

"Now what can you possibly see here? Not like you're some photographer." She closed the door behind her.

He slowly walked, focusing on the dark aura in each step; it was everywhere.

Most of the rooms had patients in critical conditions, and one or more of their relatives were sitting by them, praying in their hopeless silence. He could see the white light whirling around some patients – their individual auras – getting fainter with each tick of the clock; their life was hanging by a thread. It was a misfortune, but they were dying from a natural cause, it was their fate, their time was coming, and it wasn't in his power to save them, for it was the will of God; they were not the reason for the dark aura.

As he proceeded, the air got thick with it, and that meant he was nearing the source. He looked up; the darkness was the densest outside the room on the left corner.

"Found it." He muttered to himself.

"What?"

He strode hurriedly and stopped outside the room. Its door was half open. He peeked in. What he saw was sickening.

A dried up patient lay unconscious, an oxygen mask on his pale face. He was perhaps somewhere near twenty five in age but looked like someone near the end of his thirties, and from what Kumaran reckoned, he had grown all pale and weak very recently and at a drastically rapid pace. The cardiogram beeped somewhat slowly, showing a lower than normal heart rate. Glucose dripped into his so visible veins that ran up his arms like thick creepers. His aura was distorted and sapped dramatically of life force. Black and thick smoky tendrils whirled around his head like a shadowy orb, and it branched out into thin tentacles draining his other energy centers. A black mass was eclipsing the dying light in his chest, his soul.

"What are you doing?!" Edha whispered to him, her voice coated with annoyed anger.

"What happened to this guy?" Kumaran squinted at him.

"He..." she paused to see his sorry condition, "He was admitted yesterday morning, had a seizure, no explainable cause. Even when he was admitted, he was having convulsions, grunting and groaning, half conscious. He was in grave pain. The doctors couldn't understand why, but his organs were not functioning well and failing fast. He slipped into coma and his episode of seizure stopped, but his condition keeps worsening despite our greatest efforts."

"Hmm," Kumaran thought for a while. "I can help him."

"You what?" Edha was bewildered. "Kumaran, the best doctors have failed, and you're saying–"

"Edha, listen, as crazy as it sounds, no doctor can save him; he can't be medically helped. This is a demon's work."

"You can't be serious–" She shook her head in disbelief.

He shot a look at her, clearly stating he wasn't making some sick joke.

"You are serious? Just because the doctors couldn't understand? Cases like this happen all the time!" She did something with her hand.

"Is it?"

"Yes! It might be some parasite! Something we don't know – for now! I can't believe you actually think–"

"I don't think, I know. I can really help him."

"That's enough for today, Kumaran. No more weird stuff. And we should get out of here now–"

"Is everything alright?" A woman's stressed voice asked.

Edha had paused, and her face had the look someone had when they ended up in the situation they were trying to avoid. She turned.

A middle-aged woman was standing there, looking at them both with her dry eyes – they were hopeless, yet expectant, desperate for the smallest shred of hope. Her saree's pallu was in her hand, wet with her tears. But what he noticed more was her depleted energy, in all ways.

"I uhhh," Kumaran couldn't understand what to tell her without being sure who she was.

"Mrs. Shipra, This is my friend," Edha waved her arms at him, "he is a medical student and wanted to see your son's health, hoping to understand it, but he couldn't. We were just leaving." She quickly eyed him.

"Oh..." Mrs. Shipra deflated.

"Let's go." She ordered him politely.

It wasn't a good idea to stay there and argue, not with the patient's mother around. He didn't want to stir uncertain hopes in her. Therefore, he silently walked out of the ICU with Edha.

"That would've been worse if it was the manager or some other higher staff." She said to herself, eyes open wide as if she was imagining it.

"I can really help." He turned to her.

"Kumaran, please."

"Look at that mother, she is dyin seein her son like this. And here I am tellin ya there is a way to help 'em, in ways ya don't understand or believe–"

"Yes, I don't. Even if I did, nobody will allow you to perform an exorcism – in a hospital."

"That won't be needed–"

She held up her hand. "I'm sorry Kumaran, but I need to go attend patients. You should get your wound checked first – the reason you came to this hospital."

He blew his cheeks and rested his hands on his waist. "There is really no convincin ya, huh? Fine. But if ya, by some miracle, choose to suddenly trust me, lemme know when ya wanna save that person's life. Good day, see ya." He turned on his heels and started off.

"Good day to you too..." she said behind him. "I'm sorry... Don't forget to come back tomorrow for the interview!"

AUTHOR NOTES

What do you think Kumaran will do now? Who caused this misfortune? Read the next part to find out.

I hope you're enjoying the story, if you are, please do vote and comment. Open to genuine feedback; that would help me rectify my errors.