The Family of Murderous Ghosts

Depictions of Bhuts at the Crafts Museum, New Delhi, India, via Wikipedia

In the September 29, 1902 issue of the journal “Folklore,” William Crooke related “An Indian Ghost Story,” a curious tale of the supernatural that managed to be both intensely creepy and oddly touching.  Crooke heard the story from a “respectable Bengali” named Babu Akhaya Mohana.

Several years before, Mohana’s brother (named in the narrative only as “the Babu”) was working as a clerk in Calcutta.  He decided to visit his wife, who was living in Bengal in the household of her father.  He had not seen his in-laws for some years.  When he had nearly reached his father-in-law’s village, he stopped to chat with the owner of a confectionary shop.  When the Babu told his host where he was going, the confectioner was shocked.  He said that a short time before, the father-in-law and all other members of his family died of cholera.  The confectioner added that because no one was left to perform the funeral rites, it was believed the family still lived in the house as evil spirits known as “Bhuts.”

The Babu prided himself on being an intelligent and educated man, so he merely scoffed at this lurid story and continued to his destination.  When he reached the house, he found his father-in-law sitting in the reception room.  All seemed normal, except the old man spoke in oddly nasal tones.  When the women of the household appeared, they too had acquired a nasal twang to their voices.  The Babu, remembering what the confectioner had said, began to feel a bit uneasy.

When evening came, the women told him to go cook his own supper.  This was strange, as it was customary for the ladies of a household to prepare food for a guest.  When he asked why he was left to fend for himself, the women explained that they were under a vow of fasting that day.  It was only later that he recalled that Bhuts have an aversion to fire and iron cooking utensils.

The Babu boiled himself some rice.  As he was about to salt the food, everyone ordered him to stop.  Under their fasting vow, they said, the use of salt was forbidden.  His hosts gave him a fish to cook.  When it was ready, he placed it on a dish…and it immediately disappeared.

The Babu finally realized that the confectioner’s story was all too accurate.  He had to escape this sinister company, but how?  He decided his only hope was to appeal to his wife, even though he now knew she was a Bhut as well.  When he pleaded with her for mercy, she replied, “My dear husband, as you see, we are all  Bhuts, and our bodies are being eaten away inside by worms.  But in spirit we are all Bhuts, and we intend to kill you tonight.”

When he asked how this horrible transformation had happened, she said, “Our father died, and there was no one to perform his funeral rites; so he became a Bhut, and he killed us one by one.  This he did because he had to serve the Bhuts who were senior to him, and when he killed one of us that one took his place in servitude.  And so each one, as he became a Bhut, killed another of us, till there was none of us left.  Then we began to kill our neighbors, until the remnant, finding out who we were, abandoned the village.  We cannot follow them now as we are unable to leave our own district, and we have to depend on any stranger like yourself who happens to visit the village.”

Surely, Babu said, there must be some way for him to save their souls, not to mention his own life.  She replied, “Your only chance of safety is to go at once and perform our Sraddha (funeral rites) at Gaya, and then we can go to heaven.  But you must marry me again when I am reborn in the family of my father’s brother.  When we pass out of the state of Bhuts the Pipal (sacred fig) tree which stands in the courtyard of the house will fall down of its own accord.  Now take a lota (brass cup) of water and go out.  While you hold it in your hand none of us can touch you, and you can make your escape.  Good-bye, my former husband.”

The Babu filled the cup with water and fled the house.  The Bhuts yelled at him to stop, but he kept running until he was well out of their district.  When he returned home, he collected money and went to Gaya, where he performed the needed rites.

A while later, he returned to his father-in-law’s home, where he found that the fig tree had indeed fallen.  Deciding it was best to continue taking his wife’s advice, he married the daughter of the brother of his late father-in-law, “and since then he has lived in prosperity.”

A happy ending all around.