This work is copyrighted as above and any form of re-production of this work without the author's consent is illegal
The cottage looked like it had been waiting for me to make the turn on the path through the pine grove as it sprang out into sinister silhouette view. The rising moon was still hidden behind the hill on which it stood but achieved the effect of making it stand out in profile against the night sky. I had been nonchalant thus far in trekking up the mountain path that wove through the woods but a sudden terror gripped my heart momentarily. The Sylvan landscape was pitch-dark all around. A few strands of silver moon-light penetrated the tree cover to form a dappled pattern on the ground. I am not normally scared of the dark and my career in The Army has often put me in the situation of having to move about in pitch dark mountainous wildernesses. The events earlier in the day probably had something to do with the fright that the cottage struck into me that night.
I was a final term gentleman cadet at The Indian Military Academy, Dehradun back in 1992 and was on an orientation visit to The Garhwal Rifles Regimental Centre, Landsdowne with a group of other GCs as a part of the training aimed at familiarising with the traditions and ethos of different regimental groups of The Army through visits to the regimental centres. It was that very morning that the officer who was conducting our group around The Centre had pointed out the cottage to us from the very spot where I stood now. The cottage, we were told, was an abandoned one where no one lived any longer. Myth had it that a British officer lived there about 80 years back. The officer who was referred to as 'Captain X' - apparently it was bad luck to speak out his name - fell in love with a local garhwali lass and desperately wanted to marry her. Needless to say, his commanding officer did not like the thought of one of Her majesty's officers getting sweet on a native and forbade him to have anything to do with the girl. The love-sick officer rode his horse off a cliff and crashed down to his death (although why he had to take the horse with him escapes me to this day). Captain X had thereafter re-appeared as the headless rider of Landsdowne.
The cottage had looked mundane enough that morning and the story had tempted me along with Vikram and Ugyen ( a foreign trainee from the Royal Bhutan Army) to go up the hill later and take a closer look. Now, however, standing alone on the deserted mountain foot trail about a kilometre from the officers' mess it looked positively eerie. Vikram and Ugyen were safely ensconced inside the mess watching a hindi movie on the VCP (we had those back then). Ugyen was a huge bollywood fan although he could barely speak or understand a full line of hindi. I wished I had stayed back with them and not set out all alone. I thought of going back to the mess but I was the one who had but a few minutes back declared that I was too sleepy to stay back for the movie and insisted on leaving. The others would guess what had brought me back in no time at all and I would much rather go the remaining few hundred metres to our rooms than spend the rest of the term being ribbed mercilessly about running back scared.
So I took a few brave steps ahead. The path would take me right across the base of the hillock on which the cottage stood. And then the horror struck me . . . I was the only one who had actually read aloud the name on the plate affixed to the cottage - "ROBERTS" it said (for that was the name of the unfortunate officer) and the ominous warning rang in my head - 'We don't refer to the officer by his name as it is believed that whoever utters the name encounters the headless rider soon'. And then I heard it . . . . the clip - clop of shod horse's hooves - all too familiar and unmistakable from the equestrian training at The IMA - faint in the distance but steadily growing louder in my ears. Pure terror rooted me to the spot for an instant and the next instant that very same terror lent wings to my feet. Sprinting in the direction away from the one where I thought the sound came I soon found myself at the door of my room. Fumbling in my pocket for the key, I managed to find it and fit it into the lock which clicked open. I'm still not sure if the thunder in my ears was the sound of a horse approaching me at full gallop or that of my heart pounding. As I shut the door behind me I half expected the headless rider to crash through it but there was nothing but a chilly pregnant silence. I switched on the light and listened but could hear only the sounds of the night - crickets chirping and an owl hooting in the distance.
You may expect that I wouldn't have been able to sleep that night, but in reality I was asleep almost as soon as I got under the quilt. The next morning by the time we had our bags all packed and loaded into the truck to leave I had myself all but convinced that it had all been my imagination playing tricks on me.
And yet try as I might, I cannot evict the nagging image of the flowerbeds outside our rooms from mind. They looked positively trampled upon by something heavy - or was that my imagination too? . . . because no one else appeared to notice . . . !!
The cottage had looked mundane enough that morning and the story had tempted me along with Vikram and Ugyen ( a foreign trainee from the Royal Bhutan Army) to go up the hill later and take a closer look. Now, however, standing alone on the deserted mountain foot trail about a kilometre from the officers' mess it looked positively eerie. Vikram and Ugyen were safely ensconced inside the mess watching a hindi movie on the VCP (we had those back then). Ugyen was a huge bollywood fan although he could barely speak or understand a full line of hindi. I wished I had stayed back with them and not set out all alone. I thought of going back to the mess but I was the one who had but a few minutes back declared that I was too sleepy to stay back for the movie and insisted on leaving. The others would guess what had brought me back in no time at all and I would much rather go the remaining few hundred metres to our rooms than spend the rest of the term being ribbed mercilessly about running back scared.
So I took a few brave steps ahead. The path would take me right across the base of the hillock on which the cottage stood. And then the horror struck me . . . I was the only one who had actually read aloud the name on the plate affixed to the cottage - "ROBERTS" it said (for that was the name of the unfortunate officer) and the ominous warning rang in my head - 'We don't refer to the officer by his name as it is believed that whoever utters the name encounters the headless rider soon'. And then I heard it . . . . the clip - clop of shod horse's hooves - all too familiar and unmistakable from the equestrian training at The IMA - faint in the distance but steadily growing louder in my ears. Pure terror rooted me to the spot for an instant and the next instant that very same terror lent wings to my feet. Sprinting in the direction away from the one where I thought the sound came I soon found myself at the door of my room. Fumbling in my pocket for the key, I managed to find it and fit it into the lock which clicked open. I'm still not sure if the thunder in my ears was the sound of a horse approaching me at full gallop or that of my heart pounding. As I shut the door behind me I half expected the headless rider to crash through it but there was nothing but a chilly pregnant silence. I switched on the light and listened but could hear only the sounds of the night - crickets chirping and an owl hooting in the distance.
You may expect that I wouldn't have been able to sleep that night, but in reality I was asleep almost as soon as I got under the quilt. The next morning by the time we had our bags all packed and loaded into the truck to leave I had myself all but convinced that it had all been my imagination playing tricks on me.
And yet try as I might, I cannot evict the nagging image of the flowerbeds outside our rooms from mind. They looked positively trampled upon by something heavy - or was that my imagination too? . . . because no one else appeared to notice . . . !!
