A Mourning Widow
Ten years ago, our grandfather died of a severe illness, leaving everyone in our family in unbearable pain and deep sorrows. Our grandma became utterly desperate and spiraled into the state of being a mental patient: she refused to take meals, she wept loudly without reasons. She could not sleep at night, and sat in her room talking to herself, yelling at everyone and claiming we were the ones taking the life of her husband because we were greedy for his possessions. This all became very common for us, and we gradually adapted to it.
A month later, my uncle Bhaskar was coming home from Goa. He had been there for two days to complete some official business. It was nearly midnight. The cab dropped him off in the center of the village, leaving my lonely uncle in that deserted area. He is a brave kind of a man, so he started towards home without hesitation.
On the way, he saw a figure next to the tomb of our grandfather in the scary graveyard where he is buried: an old lady sat there, weeping loudly.
Bhaskar's curiosity and courage led him to the spot, where he was surprised to see our grandma sitting on the bulge of sand next to the place where our grandfather's body had been buried.
She was a terrific sight: her rope long hair spread wildly in the air, and she had put a big sindhoor on her forehead; she slapped herself occasionally, and her tears were like water flowing from a powerful tap.
My uncle was terrified at first, but he knew she was mentally deranged from the death of her husband. He scolded her gently and reached for her hand, but to his amazement, the figure refused and glared at him with a dark frown. He did not stop -- he moved forward again to take our grandma's hand, but this time, the figure just disappeared.
With a start, he felt a cool wind flow through his body. He calmed himself with the thought that it was just an illusion, and finally reached our house at 1 AM.
He was surprised to see all of us still awake, each of us mourning. He froze, face motionless like a corpse, when we told him that our grandma had died that very morning due to irregular diet and mental disturbance.
For the next three months, he requested the authorities at his work to put him on the first shift, and he never slept alone.
People who pass through the graveyard at night say they can hear the mourning of a woman, a sad, lonely weeping again and again.
