The ghosts of the fort Jaipur, India (2011)
Many stories in India have been famous for some or the other reason for generations and generations. Among such stories the best are the ones related to the wandering spirits in the forts and castles spread across the Indian subcontinent
Among such scintillating forts is also the story of the Jairaj Bhavan (name changed); now a beautiful resort property and a five star hotel. Every brick, mortar and stone here that has witnessed war, bloodshed and strife is somehow possessed by energy; unexplainable according to man.
This story again is a true recollection from my own exploits, and dates back to the time when I was a first year hospitality trainee. Jairaj Bhavan was a beautiful property away from my home and family, flanked by beautiful gardens and cabanas. It had one of the finest pillar halls as the reception area and even more intriguing and luxurious rooms for stay.
I happened to be here as the butler to the main host and hostess who had booked sixty percent of rooms in the hotel and were hosting a giant corporate exposition. The exposition was to last for at least four days and since I was the butler I had to stay in the hotel for the period. My bosses were kind enough to give me a standard room on the east wing of the ground floor. It was a beautiful room with an extended veranda, which overlooked one of the huge lawns; the veranda even had a giant swing, which was fit for a king or queen.
I had heard about the different interactions with the paranormal in the hotel but I wasn't too worried, I knew there were many fame mongers out there who would not mind spoiling the name of a brand for a few minutes in front of the camera. Interactions with the paranormal were a very common thing in my life and sometimes to be honest I really did not pay much heed to such baseless rumors.
After a hard day of work; roaming around everywhere with the hosting couple and doing all their chores, I returned back to my room on the ground floor. I took a bath, changed into a bathrobe and went and plumped on the bed.
Being a hotelier is definitely going to do two things to you, it will definitely make you a hardcore alcoholic and it will definitely make you short tempered, I had fortunately become both. No matter what is the scenario I always had a bottle of old monk hidden in my suitcase. I pulled it out and a can of coke from the fridge mixed them both in a glass ad switched on the television to enjoy a late night movie.
Time went by horribly fast. Before I knew it my bottle was finished and so was the movie. My head had started becoming a bit heavy because of the alcohol. I glanced at the watch it was nearly two in the night and I had a long day ahead.
I quietly kept my head on the below, comforted myself inside the comforter and switched of the light. It did not take much time for me to fall of to sleep, as I was sufficiently high on alcohol.
I happened to be an avid sleeper, even the slightest of noises did not wake me up but I was not sure of my reaction to a horrendously loud noise. Probably, the day had come for that. I woke up in the middle of the night to the noise of something crashing outside, just beyond my balcony. I glanced at the watch it was exactly three a.m. in the morning. I slipped into y slippers and with sleepy eyes walked to the window. I tugged away at the heavy curtains to create a thin vertical window of visibility for myself. It was drizzling slowly and a thin layer of opaque mist had covered the garden floor. Everything near my room seemed fine, though the noise was too loud to forget.
I immediately started walking back to my bed disgusted when I heard another sound. Creeks of hinges, going back and forth in a repetitive manner, I had heard the noise before. I could recall it; I traced it back to the days of my youth when my mother used to take me to the swings in the park. The thought were the least of my worries what gave me goose bumps was the fact that there was someone on my balcony swing and the only way out, was, through my room.
