When I was very little, before I had even started school, we lived in Dhanmondi, Dhaka. I won’t mention the exact location or house number. The house was an old-fashioned one, the kind you rarely see these days. This was probably sometime around 1982.

I was still very young and hadn’t started school yet. We lived in a detached house with a large backyard, a spacious front lawn, and a garage for the car. I had one older brother, and there was a considerable age gap between us. He was already going to school while I was still too young to attend. My father went to the office every day, and we had a young girl who helped my mother around the house. My mother and the girl were usually busy in the kitchen or doing other household chores, so I spent most of my time playing by myself.

There was something strange I used to see quite often. Under our bed, a little ball, something that looked like a marble, would bounce up and down with a soft, rhythmic tapping sound.

I would see it in the morning or during the afternoon, usually when I was alone in the room. Curious about what it was, I would get down on my hands and knees and crawl under the bed to retrieve it.

Rasel Bhai, I’m telling you this story, but I’m honestly getting scared just talking about it. I’ve always been a rather timid girl, and even now, I get frightened very easily.

I would watch the little ball bouncing beneath the bed. At that age, I had no reason to think it could be anything unusual, let alone something frightening. I simply wanted to catch it.

But whenever I crawled underneath the bed, the ball would disappear.

Then, as soon as I crawled back out, I would see it bouncing again.

This happened to me almost every day. I don’t know what it was, Rasel Bhai. It continued for months, and perhaps even years. Eventually, it stopped happening altogether.

Later, we moved out of that house, and I never saw the strange little ball again. Perhaps that’s why the memory has stayed with me for so long. It was such an unusual thing to experience at such a young age.

Let me tell you about something else that happened in the same house.

By then, I had started school. I think I was in nursery. It was a cold winter morning, and I was getting ready to leave for school.

There was a window in our bedroom that overlooked the veranda. Suddenly, something caught my eye outside.

I saw a face.

It looked like something straight out of a cartoon we used to watch as children. The face was brightly colored, almost as if it had been painted in several different shades. I could see only the face, nothing else.

Rasel Bhai, it was looking directly at me.

And it had the faintest little smile on its face.

I stood there, staring at it in complete amazement. I rubbed my eyes again and again, trying to figure out whether I was really seeing what I thought I was seeing.

I continued getting ready for school. I ate my breakfast, tied my shoelaces, and went about my usual morning routine. But every now and then, I would turn around and look at the window again.

The face was still there.

It remained visible at the edge of the window, just looking at me with that strange, almost playful smile.

I didn’t tell my mother or father about it. Somehow, because the face looked so much like a cartoon character, I found it more amusing than frightening. I was fascinated by it, so I simply kept watching.

After that, nothing unusual happened for a long time.

I grew up normally and went about my life. But when I was in ninth grade, I began to experience another strange feeling.

I often felt as though someone was standing behind me. It was as if someone were watching me, even when I was alone.

I suppose many people have experienced that kind of feeling at some point in their lives.

Eventually, I told my grandmother about it. She gave me something that looked like a tabiz, a small protective amulet traditionally worn for spiritual protection.

After that, the feeling went away.

Even now, I don’t know what the bouncing marble was, who—or what—that colorful face belonged to, or why I used to feel as though someone was watching me years later.

Perhaps they were simply strange childhood experiences. Perhaps there was something about that old house that I never understood.

All I know is that these memories have stayed with me for decades.

And even after all these years, I still cannot explain what I saw.