Real Ghost Stories: Three True Encounters from Bangladesh

Rasel bhai, I have brought three stories for you today. These are real ghost stories, and each one has stayed with me. I will begin with the first.

The Cigarette at the Bus Shelter

This happened about ten or fifteen years ago, to a man who works at Chittagong Port. Working at the port often means staying late into the night and doing overtime beyond the fixed hours. One night he was working and the load was so heavy that he did not notice the time go by. When he looked at his watch, it was twelve o’clock.

He lives in a quarter in Port Colony. Everyone in Chittagong knows Port Colony. Rickshaws run between his home and the port. But since it was past midnight, he could not find a vehicle. He thought, let me walk a little. There is a lane ahead, and I will take a rickshaw when I reach it.

As he walked, someone suddenly called his name from behind. He turned and saw a young man. He wore a white panjabi and white pyjamas, his hair was long, and there was kohl in his eyes. The young man came forward and said, “Bhaiya, how are you? What are you doing so late? Go home quickly.” The man was a little surprised. At first he did not recognise him. Who was this boy, and how did he know him? The young man said, “Brother, I live in your area. Don’t you know me? I often see you. You pass this way, and you probably work at the port.” The man thought, maybe so. Many people live in Port Colony, and perhaps they had been introduced once and he had forgotten.

They talked as they walked. They spoke about many things, and he enjoyed it. Walking along, they came toward the main road. Then suddenly it began to rain from the cloudy sky. The young man said, “Bhaiya, it is raining. Let us stand under the bus shelter for a while.” He said, “All right, no problem.” He went and stood there.

He smokes. The young man asked, “Brother, do you smoke?” “Yes, I do,” he said. The young man said, “I have cigarettes, you can take one.” He took a cigarette from him. The young man lit it with a lighter. He lit one for himself too. They chatted about all sorts of things, how they were, how life was going.

Meanwhile, because of the rain, two young men on a bike stopped in front of that bus shelter to get out of the rain. He kept talking to the young man. After a while he noticed that the rain showed no sign of easing, and the two boys who had got off the bike were staring at him without blinking. He was a little surprised, and frightened too. He wondered whether they were hijackers. Still he kept talking to the young man, and the young man kept talking back. This went on for about five or seven minutes.

Then one of the boys from the bike came up to him and touched him. He was scared. “What is it?” The boy said, “Bhaiya, please don’t mind. Let me tell you something. Your cigarette has no fire. I have been watching for a long time. There is no fire on it, yet you are puffing. And you are muttering to yourself, who with? So I called you. I didn’t think anything else.”

He was astonished. “No fire on my cigarette? The boy next to me lit this cigarette for me.” The boy said, “Where is the boy next to you?” He looked beside him. He saw that, in fact, nobody was there. The boy said, “Brother, for a long time you have been muttering alone and puffing on your cigarette, but there is no fire on it. My friend told me the same, which is why I called you after a long while.”

He said, very surprised, “There was someone with me. That same boy gave me the cigarette and lit it for me. I was smoking and talking to him. Now, talking to you, I see he is not here.” He was a little frightened. The boy asked, “Bhaiya, where is your home?” He said, “A little further ahead.” The boy said, “All right, go home. Maybe you are tired from working all day, it can happen. We will see you a little way.” He said, “No, there’s no need.” They said, “Brother, get on my bike, let us take you to your house, if you don’t mind.” Then they took him home on the bike.

This incident astonished him. It was the first time anything like it had happened in his life. He says, “I wasn’t very ill either. Most of all, even if the boy was nothing, the cigarette was in my hand. So where did the cigarette come from?” He has never been able to settle that account. This was my first story, Rasel bhai.

A Thought Between Stories

Rasel bhai said, “Wonderful. I was thinking, now there are storms from time to time. At such a time, what would it be like to suddenly meet someone? The friend you mentioned does not really exist. But the lighting of the cigarette is very strange.”

I said, “He cannot believe it himself. That the boy called him and he talked to him might be an error of the mind. But he took the cigarette, the boy lit it, and the cigarette was still with him. The boys who came later said, ‘There is a cigarette in your hand but no fire on it, yet you are smoking.’ He has found no explanation. Even today it makes him think.”

Rasel bhai said, “I suddenly feel there is a world inside the mirror. In that world I can move about and enter. That is not the frightening part. The frightening part is when I find I can bring something out of that mirror world into my real world. Then it gets very interesting. Many people say that if they get hurt somewhere in a dream, they wake up and find that spot really hurt on the bed. Or that a flower or something from inside a dream falls into reality. Those are very strange times. The sums don’t add up then.”

I said, “Yes, Rasel bhai, I have heard this from many people. Someone dreams a snake is biting him, or that someone is beating him. He wakes up, scared, and sleeps again. The next morning he gets up and finds blood marks on his leg, scratch marks on his waist, torn skin, bite marks. Right where the bite was in the dream, there is blood when he wakes. I hear this kind of thing often. Many people tell me, brother, this happens. Yet at the time nobody is in the room. So how did it happen? How does it match the dream? These things are very strange.”

Rasel bhai said, “True. Let us do one thing and go straight to the next story. You have brought several. Now let us hear a long one. The longest and most frightening one, let us take a little more time over it. Let us begin.”

My Grandfather, the Lost Gun and the Jinn

All right. This happened to my grandfather. He was educated in the British era, and at that time he lived in Panchagarh in North Bengal. Some people may ask, you live in Chittagong, so why Panchagarh? Our home is in Panchagarh, but I was raised in Chittagong. Anyway, I heard this from my father.

My grandfather had a long gun. It was always with him. The British had given it to him, pleased with him for some reason. One day that gun suddenly went missing. He searched everywhere and could not find it. He was very upset. He wanted his gun back, whatever it took. But it had been stolen, and how could it be brought back? Then someone said there was an ojha, a village sorcerer, who could bring back lost things. My grandfather said, “All right, call the ojha.” The man said, “Calling isn’t enough. The ojha has to be told the matter first. He comes within a set time. When told, he comes and does his own procedures.”

The ojha was told. He said, “All right, I will come at midnight. I will send a jinn, and through that jinn I will try to solve the problem of your lost thing.” But some things would be needed. A bronze plate, and a bowl of milk. The milk had to come from the first milking of a cow, not the second. The bronze bowl had to be filled to the brim. The milk had to be kept covered, and nobody should look at it. At midnight he would come and ask for it.

My grandfather agreed. The next night, at midnight, the ojha came. He said, “Give me the milk.” The milk was given. The ojha said, “None of you move. Sit quietly. You will feel many things, but do not be afraid, and do not move.” He made everyone sit in a circle. My grandfather was there too. The ojha sat in the middle with the bowl of milk. He drew a design and recited many chants in his mind. Suddenly his body jerked. Shaking and shaking, at some point he almost fainted. Two or three minutes later he got up and began to speak. It seemed a jinn had possessed him. The jinn asked, “What is your name?” That sort of talk went on. Then it said, “You kept the gun at home, and you did not take it out this afternoon, did you?” My grandfather said, “Yes.” The jinn said, “It was someone from your own household who took it. In three days you will get it back. There is a tamarind tree behind your house. It will be found on that tree.”

Meanwhile, everyone was frightened. There was a boy there who got scared, jumped up and ran. As he ran, the bowl of milk fell. The moment the bowl fell, the ojha suddenly collapsed unconscious. Five or ten minutes later he got up and said angrily, “Who spilled the milk bowl?” They told him someone had run away in fear. The ojha said, “You have done me great harm. I brought the jinn, and now how will I take it back? It is a very influential jinn, and the chief of many jinn. What do I do now? There is nothing more I can do, you see what you can do. Say Allah, Allah, recite dua and durood. If there is any trouble, call me again.” Saying this, he left, quite angry.

The ojha had said the gun would be found on the tamarind tree in three days. But my grandfather went into his room and found the gun inside it. He was very surprised. Who had brought it, where had it come from? He was happy too. He called my grandmother and said, “Look, I found the gun.” Everyone said, the ojha said it would be found on the tamarind tree, but you found it in the house, which is even better, you did not have to climb the tree.

My grandfather was happy to get the gun. Then one day he was sleeping in his own separate room. He liked listening to songs a little. Nobody was allowed in that room, and he did not let anyone in. He had even dozed off. Suddenly a whisper woke him. He heard someone say, “Stop the song. I don’t like it.” He got up, turned up the hurricane lamp a little and said, “Who is it? Who is there?” Nobody could be seen. That day he did not listen to any more songs and went back to sleep.

The next night it was the same. While listening to songs, half asleep, right by his ear came the whisper again, “Stop the song.” This time he got up bravely and said, “Who? Come before me.” He shouted for a long time. This time an answer came. “You cannot see me, because you are not religious. If you want to see me, you will have to follow some rules, and listen to me the way I tell you.” My grandfather was very surprised. Someone was speaking and could not be seen. He was a little afraid too, but he was a very brave man. He said, “All right, what must I do?” It said, “You cannot listen to this song any more. If you listen to it, I cannot appear before you.”

It said, “I am the jinn the ojha brought. Do you remember?” My grandfather said, “Yes.” “You got your gun back. I was the one who brought it.” My grandfather bravely said, “All right, you brought the gun. Why don’t you go? Your work is done.” The jinn said, “I cannot go, even if I want to. Because I have no more restraint. The ojha could not send me away by the method he used to bring me. So all access is in my hands now. If I wish I will go, if I wish I will come.”

In this way, at some point my grandfather and the jinn became very close. That same jinn eventually taught my grandfather the Quran and taught him namaz. The people of the whole house listened to its recitation of the Quran. Such a sweet voice. Many people have heard it.

Read more: [LINK: Real Supernatural Stories: Forbidden Island of Andaman, Part 1]

While this was going on with my grandfather, my father was very small and a very daring boy. In those days there was jatra, a folk theatre, in the village. My father and the others would go at night, and it ran until very late. One day, after the jatra, my father was cycling home. The house was very far, so he had to cycle. On the way there is a pond called Mora Dighi, the Dead Pond. Many people say that at night, if you go near that pond, someone pulls you in. It has taken many people, and many have died, but nobody can say who takes them or how. My father thought, instead of going past Mora Dighi, let me go another way. There is a shortcut through the graveyard field, and going that way he would not have to pass in front of the pond. He took that path. Both sides of the graveyard lane had bamboo.

As he passed under the bamboo, my father suddenly felt that someone had walked past him in front. He was daring, so he turned his cycle around. “Who is it?” He saw that about ten arm-lengths away, near the bamboo, someone was peeking at him. He looked carefully and could see nobody. He turned to go again. Again he felt someone peeking, and this time not one but two. My father said, “Who is peeking like this?” He tried to go forward, but he was a little frightened too, to go or not to go.

After standing there for a while, my father saw that far from the bamboo someone in a red sari was standing, glancing at him as if in a game of hide-and-seek. My father picked up a stone and threw it at the bamboo. He saw nothing there. He stood there a long time without moving. Curiosity to see it took hold of him. Again he saw something peeking. This time my father said, “Now I will go and see who it is.” He rode forward on his cycle. As he got close, he felt that someone kicked the cycle hard. With that kick, my father was thrown off the cycle and fainted.

After quite some time, around the hour of the Fajr adhan, my father woke. Getting up, he found his whole body aching, shaking, a fever, and the cycle broken. He took the cycle and came straight home. My grandmother was still asleep. Later, when the fever rose, he took medicine. My grandmother asked, “What is it, what happened?” My father said, “Mother, last night I was coming past that bamboo, and suddenly this happened. I threw a stone, and when I went back on the cycle, someone kicked me hard.” My grandmother told my grandfather. My grandfather said, “All right, let me see what this is.” He spoke to that jinn. The jinn told my grandfather, “Your son escaped today. Do you know what your son did? A newlywed jinn couple was passing by on their wedding journey. Your son threw a stone, then went at them with his cycle. They could not bear it. Many others were there too, and they kicked him. It was only because of my identity that they did nothing more.”

That was one incident. The influence of it is still there in our village. No outsider can steal something from inside our house and leave. Even now many people see things. For example, many see that in the middle of the night, at the pond behind the house, someone is jumping into the water and bathing, but nobody like that can be seen. Or someone appears to come to the tubewell to fetch water, but nobody is there. This was a family story of ours, Rasel bhai. Right now I feel we can stop here for today.

Rasel bhai said, “If you want to tell one more at the end, you can. Otherwise we can stop for today. What do you feel?”

The House with a 35-Year-Old Curse

Yes, I can share one more. I collected this one. I will visit the house where it happened, because the family has invited me. I have met him. He told me, “Bhaiya, I am a busy person and cannot give you time. Come to my house one day.” I said, “All right, I will come. But before that, please tell me a little.”

He said, “Brother, in this house there is a curse from thirty-five years ago. All of us who live in this house have to keep our bodies sealed. Every week a hujur (Islamic scholar) comes and does the sealing of the body, a protective ritual.” They had bought the land of an old house, demolished it and built a new house there. Since then, all kinds of things have happened to them. As I mentioned before, if things are put down on one side, they end up on the other. At the time of need, things cannot be found. Whenever they sleep, they hear whispering. Often it feels as if someone is walking through the walls, running, dashing about.

After this, they brought a hujur (Islamic scholar). The hujur said, “Jinn move around here. All of you must be careful. I will come every week and seal your bodies, and then there will be no more trouble. And there is no need to disturb them. You live as you are.” Since then, to this day, the hujur (Islamic scholar) comes every week.

Many things have happened to them. One is this. There is a small daughter in the house, and the girl has a doll. One day in the middle of the afternoon, the mother of the house put the child to sleep and fell asleep herself. After a little while she suddenly woke. She was lying on the bed, with her daughter asleep on her left side. On her right side she was sleeping under a kantha. Waking and opening her eyes, she saw her daughter playing with the doll under the bed. She thought, “She is up and playing, fine, no problem.” Suddenly she thought, “My daughter is little, she doesn’t understand such things. How did she get off the bed, and how is she playing down there?” It nagged at her. After thinking for a long time, for fear of what she would find, she turned to her left and saw her daughter still asleep on the left side. When she shook herself and got up, there was nothing under the bed. Her daughter was asleep on the left.

Another thing that happens in their house is that the watchman often says, “Dada, someone lives on the roof.” Sometimes he hears sounds like someone leading a prayer. The watchman goes up and sees nobody. He says there are sounds of running and walking on the roof, and often people can be seen. The man of the house says, “All right, this happens. There is no need to disturb them.” When the hujur (Islamic scholar) is called, he also says, “If they stay on the roof, let them. There is no need for you to do anything.”

Then there was a maid in their house. She came from outside, a woman of middle age. She did her work reasonably well. One day the lady of the house and the whole family saw the maid take raw prawns out of the fridge and chew them. They were very surprised. “What is this, why are you eating raw prawns?” She said, “Why, don’t I get hungry? I do get hungry, so I eat.” The lady of the house then wanted to call out to her brother. The body is always sealed, and reciting dua and durood makes the thing let go. But she could not get out of bed. She said, “My whole body had gone paralysed. I could not get up at all. I kept trying and could not. I could hear someone calling me, ‘Come here, come here’, but I could not rise.” Just when the Zuhr adhan was called, she broke into a sweat. It felt as if someone had left her body. Then she could get up normally. She got up and asked, “What happened?” Then the maid also became normal. The maid said, “Mami, was I eating raw fish all this time?” “Why? How did this happen to me?” She was told, “Nothing more, be well.”

About the roof, there was another day when the watchman went up to the roof with the man of the house. Suddenly the watchman said, “Dada, look, who is standing behind you!” He turned and said, “Where, there is nobody.” The watchman said, “That one there, can’t you see, I can see someone standing.” Even as he spoke, someone threw a stone from in front and hit the watchman in the mouth so hard that his lip split and bled. Later, when he was better, they asked, “What did you see?” He said, “I saw you come up to the roof with me and talk to me. And behind you I saw an old man standing. When I told you, ‘Who is behind you?’, the old man gestured at me with his hand, ‘Quiet.’ Even then, when I spoke again, he became angry with me. After that I don’t remember. A stone struck me with a thud.”

Incidents like this are still happening. He has invited me to come. There is more. Very often a beautiful smell of food comes from the roof. When they sleep at night, they see someone walking about inside the mirror. They hear laughing, sometimes crying, and sometimes the sound of anklets. These things happen to them often, and now they have become used to it, it has become normal. But when outside guests come, they have to enter with their bodies sealed. We found this very strange, Rasel bhai. This is my story.