REST IN PEACE.

I was returning from a late night show, was pretty dark as it was a moonless night. I stayed on the third floor and climbing the flight of stairs was the biggest nightmare for me as I surely believed in ghosts and demons lurking , in our staircase. To worsen my panicked state, the lights also had gone out. It was pitch dark. The pack of dogs in our building were also nowhere to be seen, their recognising bark followed by a whimper used to reassure me on such dark nights. The ascent to my home was the toughest hurdle in my life at that moment, I was shivering inside and with a prayer on my lips, slowly began my 'upward' journey.
There was a reason for my paranoid behaviour.
A few days earlier, a young bride had just poured kerosene on her body and had burnt to death in our ground floor flat, probably it was a dowry death or so , but we were too small to understand such moral implications.I had seen the charred body lying lifeless on their kitchen floor, believe me folks, it was a very ghastly sight for a young school boy like me. Her black shrivelled body used to constantly appear in my nightmares during my childhood. I used to wake up sweating and hug my mother, who would protect and shelter me. It was a trying time for me at such a tender age. Her husband had sustained the customary burns on his hands while trying to save her. I never came to know the legal course of this incident, soon he was out of the lock up and roamed freely in our society.
Back then, Dowry laws were not very stringent and the brides or their grieving families never used to get justice from this oppressive system.
I had other reasons also to justify my fears, A funeral centre was just adjoining our building where the fires used to burn daily and constantly. Also, my bedroom window was flanked by a tamarind tree, which used to harbour spirits in the night, along with the blind bats who used to frighten me and my brother to our bones.
Fortunately, nothing happened to me as my prayers overpowered the dark spirits and I safely reached home. I decided to buy a small torch, the very next day with my pocket money.
A few months later, I came to know the sad plight of the widower in our ground floor flat. He had turned into a schizoid person who was jittery through out the day and never slept a wink in the night.His life had become a never ending nightmare. His thoughts were constantly about his deceased wife and drove him mad. Soon, he was shifted to a mental institution for better care and treatment. I heard that he never recovered and still can be seen chained to the steel bed, screaming for mercy. The spirit had possessed him and taken over his soul. So, the elders said. His wife had suffered in death and he was suffering in life, if you could call it a life. He never publicly admitted his role in his wife's demise.
But, you could see the guilt in his red sleep deprived eyes.
The wife's spirit never allowed him to do so.
She was extracting her revenge.
I was happy for her soul.
It would rest in peace.