1
“Yes, this is Chandrasekhar speaking. Former City Health Officer Chandrasekhar.”
“What?”
“Great news!”
“When are they coming?”
“Oh, next week? Okay, John, thank you so much.”
Vishal looked up at his father as he finished the call with a beaming smile. “What is it, Pa? Some good news?”
“Yes, Vishal! John says a party has come forward to buy our Coonoor bungalow. It’s been dragging on for so long, but he’s confident we’ll close the deal this time.”
Chandrasekhar spoke with such excitement that it instantly rubbed off on Vishal.
“Super, Pa! When are they coming to see it?”
“Next week.”
“Then we should do one thing,” Vishal suggested. “Let’s head there two or three days early. We can get the place cleaned up and looking neat. It’ll make a better impression when they arrive.”
Chandrasekhar smiled. “I was thinking the exact same thing.”
“So, when do we leave?”
“Whenever you say.”
“Let’s leave tomorrow morning then. I’ll finalize my leave formalities by then.”
“Alright, son.”
“Pa?”
“Yes, Vishal?”
“I’ve made Ragi Puttu for your lunch. Please have it.”
Chandrasekhar sighed. “Every single day it’s Ragi… I’m getting tired of this. Can’t you make something tasty for my palate just for today?”
Vishal laughed. “The doctor gave me strict orders. Until your sugar levels are back to normal, I’m not allowed to even let you look at rice!”
Chandrasekhar gave his son a mock-pitiful look and slumped onto the sofa.
“Alright, Pa, I’m heading out,” Vishal said with a chuckle as he left.
Vishal had recently cleared the Sub-Inspector exams and was waiting for his posting orders. Since childhood, he had been inspired by the biographies of great leaders; he didn’t just talk about honesty and justice—he lived by them. His only ambition was to join the police force and serve the people.
His mother had passed away when he was very young. Since then, Chandrasekhar had never remarried, dedicating his entire life to raising his son. It was just the two of them.
Chandrasekhar often prodded him: “A house needs a woman’s touch to be beautiful. Either agree to a marriage I arrange, or bring someone home yourself. I don’t care about caste or religion, as long as you’re happy.”
Vishal would always reply with a smile, “First, I need to put on the uniform. I want to achieve something in the department first. Only then can I think about marriage.”
It was his standard dialogue.
The next morning, Vishal woke up early and freshened up. He made coffee and went to wake his father.
“Pa, the heater is on. Get ready.”
“Okay, son.”
Taking a cup for himself, Vishal sat on a bamboo chair in the hall and spread out the English newspaper. As he flipped through the pages, a headline on page four caught his eye. He translated the gist of it in his mind:
> ‘GHOST BLOCKS VEHICLES ON HIGH ROAD; MOTORISTS FLEE IN TERROR’
> Several motorists shared their harrowing experiences after a midnight encounter yesterday.
>
Vishal laughed to himself. Even these reputable papers are printing stuff like this now? They’ll do anything for ratings.
“What are you laughing at, talking to yourself?” Chandrasekhar asked, emerging fresh from his bath.
“They’ve started printing impossible things in the papers now,” Vishal said mockingly.
“What’s so ‘impossible’?”
“A news report saying a ghost is blocking people on the road. That’s what.”
Vishal’s tone was teasing, but Chandrasekhar’s expression shifted. “Let it be, Vishal. We shouldn’t mock things we don’t understand.”
“What are you saying, Pa?”
“Drop the subject. Are you ready? I am.”
“Let’s go.”
They packed enough supplies for a four-day stay. Chandrasekhar got in, and Vishal took the driver’s seat. As he started the engine, his father asked, “Vishal, did you place the lemons under the tires?”
“Sorry, Pa, I forgot.”
Chandrasekhar didn’t say anything.
The drive was smooth, and they reached the Coonoor bungalow by 6:00 PM. They had already informed the watchman, Veerayya, who was waiting for them. He opened the gates as soon as he heard the horn.
Vishal smiled at him. “How are you, Veerayya?”
“I’m doing well, Thambi.”
Vishal parked the car in the portico and opened the door. As Chandrasekhar stepped inside, he suddenly felt a wave of dizziness. The world spun.
“Vishal!” he gasped, collapsing onto the sofa.
Startled, Vishal rushed to catch him. “Pa!”
He laid his father down and frantically checked his phone for nearby doctors. He found a listing for a ‘Dr. Ravichandran’ and dialed immediately.
“Hello?”
“Doctor, I’m Vishal. I’m calling from the Rose Estate bungalow. We just arrived from out of town and my father suddenly collapsed. Can you please come over?”
“I’m on my way.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
As Vishal waited anxiously, the doorbell rang. He ran to the door. A man stood there holding a medical bag. Vishal assumed it was Dr. Ravichandran.
“Come in, Doctor, please!”
The doctor entered, checked Chandrasekhar’s blood pressure, and felt his pulse. He turned to Vishal.
“Nothing to worry about. Just travel exhaustion. He’ll be fine after some good rest.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Vishal breathed a sigh of relief.
The doctor picked up his bag and headed out. It was only after he left that Vishal realized he hadn’t paid the consultation fee. Just as he was about to go after him, the doorbell rang again.
Vishal looked out. A different man was standing there.
“Yes? Who are you?” Vishal asked.
“I am Dr. Ravichandran,” the man replied. “Aren’t you the one who called saying your father was unwell?”
Vishal froze. A chill ran down his spine.
If this is the doctor… then who was the man who just left?
