Desi Horror Stories

Forbidden Window

Dr. Prafulla Chandra's life was looking up. He had just married and was recruited as a doctor for a remote village and was given a government house with an attendant. He decided to live alone for a few months at first, and with that decision, he moved in.

The house was large and there was a separate bedroom. He went up to open the window when Sudhakar, the attendant, rushed up to him. "Don't open the window, doctor sahib," he said. When the doctor asked him the reason, he simply said, "It's forbidden, sir. I know nothing more."

Soon, Dr. Prafulla Chandra got busy in his work. The village was not so populated, but sickness was rampant because people did not believe in medicine. Apart from his time at the dispensary, he had to also make rounds in the village and talk to people about hygiene and the harm caused by ignorance and home remedies. At times, he would think he wasn't just a doctor but some kind of a missionary saint.

The only complaint he had, apart from the fact that his wife wasn't with him, was the closed window. He had tried to open the window on numerous occasions, but every time Sudhakar would appear from nowhere and make such a show of it that the doctor had to back off.

A month later, Prafulla was sleeping in the sultry room when he was awakened. It took him a moment to realize that there was a smell of fresh flowers. He got up, switched on the light, and looked around. There was no sign of flowers. There was nothing outside either. Sudhakar was sleeping in his usual place on the floor in the hall outside. He came back into his room and the fragrance had only gotten stronger.

The next morning, he told Sudhakar about the fragrance. Sudhakar's face went pale. He said, "Doctor sahib, did anything else happen? Please, please, whatever happens, please don't do anything. Just ignore the smell and sleep if it comes again."

"Is this about the window, Sudhakar?" the doctor asked. "Why are you so terrified? I know there's a lake out there. What's so terrible in that?"

Prafulla knew there was a lake there. He had gone around the house and seen it. It was a calm lake, not very wide, and he was sure it didn't even have a name.

That night, Prafulla had the fragrance again. He felt suddenly drawn by it and then, almost without control over himself, he opened the window. For a long minute, he saw nothing. When the darkness outside settled, he saw nothing more than the lake, its water shimmering like pearls in the night light. And then, he saw something that held his breath.

It was a small fishing boat. In that boat was a lone woman dressed in a simple saree, seated with her legs pulled up, her hair left loose. In those hair was a stream of fresh lilies.

Prafulla kept staring at the woman for long. He did not know what she was doing there alone at that hour of the night. Was she in some kind of trouble? He softly whistled to draw her attention. And that was when she turned and looked at him. All of a sudden, Prafulla took two steps backwards. The woman had no eyes. Her black empty sockets stared at him without expression.

Sudhakar found the doctor passed out on the floor of the room the next morning. The open window told him everything. He quickly took the doctor to the bed and splashed some water on his face. Slowly as he came to, Sudhakar told him in an aggrieved tone, "I told you not to open the window. Now she will come inside the house whenever she wishes."

"Don't worry," said Prafulla in a soft tone. "I am not scared of that woman."

Sudhakar's face went pale. "Why?" he asked.

"Because she is my wife."

For a long moment, there was silence. Then Sudhakar slapped his forehead. "No!" he shouted. "Doctor babu, she's not your wife. She's nobody's wife. She is a ghost. Her power is that she lures men by appearing to be their wife. She looks different to different men. And men, fools that they are, get drawn to her. I am safe till now because I am a Brahmachari, a bachelor."

Prafulla heard it all, but he did not believe a word of it. Sudhakar knew it too. The doctor was already gone beyond return. He shook his head and walked out of the room, but not before pulling up the window close. There might be a slight glimmer of hope after all.

That night, Dr. Prafulla Chandra woke up to the smell of the flowers again, this time much stronger than before. Drawn as if in a trance, he walked up to the window. He expected to see her sitting on the waves again. Why were her eyes hollow, though? He didn't want to think of it. All he wanted to do was to see her again, however she was.

He opened the window.

And he screamed. She was not in the boat on the river now; she was right there, outside the window, looking at him, her cold breath piercing into the skin of his face. She opened her mouth and grinned. She still had his wife's face, but Prafulla saw that her teeth were black razors. With great strength, she gripped the grills of the window and effortlessly pulled them apart, till the gap was wide enough for her to enter.

Dr. Prafulla Chandra was found in a lifeless state on his bed in the morning. The entire village knew what had happened to him, but no one spoke of it. The blood in his veins had turned black and viscous—it was the sign of death by extreme fear.