The Soul is a Battery

by Vivek Ramakrishnan

‘Do you believe in evil spirits?’

It was Neha. Always the first one to get scared. It must have been the story, thought Arjun.

They were sitting around a campfire on the banks of the Ganges near Rishikesh. Their bodies were aching after a day of rafting and kayaking. It was one at night. They were all stone drunk. Ramesh, assistant to their rafting instructor, had concluded his story just ten minutes back.

It was Sheila’s story. Sheila had loved a guy, Arjun. Arjun smiled as he thought of the bout of leg-pulling that he had been subjected to just because of the common name. Sheila and Arjun were madly in love, but their parents were opposed to the match. They finally decided to elope. They planned to meet one night at the very spot where today’s campfire was arranged.

Sheila arrived first. She waited for hours. There was no sign of Arjun. His parents had apparently discovered their plan, and had convinced him not to go. At around three o’clock that night, Sheila realized that Arjun would not come. She calmly walked into the raging Ganges. Her body was never found. Arjun was found dead two days later – his body was floating on the Ganges.

Ramesh had noted Neha’s discomfort at this point, but had carried on. He appeared to be enjoying himself. ‘To this day, people say Sheila’s restless spirit roams the area, and looks around for Arjun’, he had said. Ramesh had looked directly into Arjun’s eyes as he said this, and Arjun felt a chill run down his spine.

‘Arjun! I’m talking to you!’

‘Well, let me think! Don’t you want a proper answer to this?’

He was lying. He had thought about this earlier. He had a very good idea of what he was about to say. But he wanted everyone to believe that he had concocted his beautiful theory in a matter of minutes, i.e. after he was asked the question. He wanted to impress everyone with his brilliance.

He put on a very sombre expression.

‘The soul is like a battery’, he declared.

‘A what?!’He heard many voices exclaim.

‘A battery. Think of a dry cell. What does it do? It gives life. You see, if I put a dry cell in a flashlight, it gives life to the flashlight, so to speak. If I put it in a clock, it gives life to the clock. Now compare this to the soul. What does the soul do? It gives life!’

He saw a few drunken heads nodding. He went on.

‘Well, if I put a dry cell into a flashlight, and then remove it and insert it in a clock, does the clock start behaving like the flashlight? NO! The dry cell can only give life, you see. It cannot retain or transfer any properties of its host. A soul too, merely gives life. It may give life to a dog’s body, and then the same soul may later give life to a human body, but the human will not show any characteristics of a dog, just because he has a soul that was once in a dog’s body.’

Again, a few nods. Encouraged, he went on.

‘That is why I can say that the only evil spirits that exist are the ones that we have currently consumed! And I’m not too sure that those are so evil, now that I think about it.’ He winked. ‘You see, for an evil spirit to exist, it would become necessary that the soul retain some knowledge about its prior host, which, as I have demonstrated, is not possible!’

A voice shot up. ‘Dude! You have not demonstrated anything! All you have done is present an idea, which has never been tested.’

Arjun defended, ‘Well, it fits, doesn’t it? It explains everything so well. The analogy is so perfect, it surprises me. And of all the possible explanations, I believe mine is the one that makes the most sense.’

‘Besides, the story our dear Ramesh narrated must be some stupid legend that these ignorant villagers blindly believe. Tell me, why would these guys even set up a camp at the very spot where Sheila is supposed to have drowned?’

‘Ramesh told us that the owner of the camp did not really believe in the story. He loved this spot, and insisted on setting up his camp here. If you remember, Ramesh also mentioned that hardly any instructors were willing to work for the camp’. This was Neha again.

‘Ramesh has had one drink too many. I really think we ought to sleep now. It’s 2AM and we are set to go rafting over the real rapids early morning at 7AM – ‘The Wall’ and ‘Return to sender’. We need the sleep. And Neha, please don’t start believing such nonsense. I don’t want you tossing and turning the whole night, and ending up with no rest tomorrow morning. We’re going to need all the energy we can get!’

‘Arjun, don’t mock these legends. Many of them are true. Besides, it’s you who should be worried – it’s Arjun she’s looking for after all! And I’ll bet that you are scared too, underneath that façade of yours’.

She looked really annoyed. Arjun let it go at that. He got up and went back to his tent. The others followed suit.

****

‘Arjun! Arjun!’. It was a whisper at first. He ignored it. ‘Arjun!’ The voice grew more forceful. Arjun glanced at his watch. It was 3AM. He covered his head with his blanket and tried to sleep. ‘Arjun!’ There was no mistaking it. Someone was definitely calling him. It was a female voice. Something inside him warned him not to get up. But then, he had to find out. ‘It’s Neha’, he thought. It had to be. Though how she managed to chalk up the courage to venture alone outside her tent in the pitch dark was something he could not imagine. Neha was trying to scare him. He would scare her instead, he thought.

‘Arjun!’ The voice was not at all like Neha’s. It sounded too confident. It was pleading, and yet very cold. For some strange reason, it did not even seem human. Arjun noticed that his hands were trembling. Why should they? ‘The soul is a battery’, he told himself. He had to get up. Neha had put on a good fake accent, he thought.

‘Arjun!’ This time it was followed by the sound of anklets. Just like in the horror movies. Neha was really leaving no expense spared. Arjun had always wondered why the characters in horror movies would invariably follow the sound of anklets, ultimately resulting in their untimely death. But he found that he too felt an insatiable curiosity to explore the source of the sound.

His knees were knocking. ‘The soul is a battery’, he reminded himself again. He peered out of his tent. ‘Arjun!’ There she was. A veiled woman. She seemed to be looking directly at him. She beckoned, and Arjun felt compelled to walk towards her. She laughed a cruel laugh, and then turned and started walking towards the river. Those anklets! He had to follow her. Neha was going too far. He could not let her have the satisfaction of spooking him. And yet, a voice in his heart warned him that it was not Neha.

The woman seemed to float. He could not tell for sure of course - her saree was sweeping the ground, so that her feet and slippers were not exposed. He knew that something was just not right, but he could not help following. She now waded into the river. Neha would never do that! Or would she? She was very annoyed today – and she looked like she would go to any extent to teach him a lesson. At any rate, he was too drunk to think straight.

‘The soul is a battery’, he kept chanting as his foot touched the cold water. He realized that the current was powerful. She stopped. She was only slightly ahead of him now. He put his second foot in. Even so close to the bank, he could feel the force of the water. She moved slowly ahead now, looking back often to see that he was following.

He touched the water. He scooped up some water and splashed it on his face. The cool water seemed to clear his head. He realized that his firm conviction in his theory had started crumbling. His beautiful theory meant nothing now. How could he throw away all that he believed in? Is it just enough to preach, to believe, and not to follow? He had always thought of himself as one who followed what he preached. But now, he only knew one thing – he had to run! The woman seemed to sense his discomfort, or, as he knew deep in his heart, his fear. She looked back to see that he was indeed following her.

NOW! She had turned ahead. This was his chance. He turned around silently. Making as little noise as possible, he started making his way back to the bank. He was almost at the bank now. She turned.
‘Arjun!’ A savage cry! It was definitely not human. He felt his blood freeze. She was rushing towards him. The fury of the river seemed to multiply. He ran with all his might. He was at the bank now. She was making a mad rush, he was sure, but he dared not look back.

His brain had stopped functioning. It had frozen in fear. His legs somehow carried him on. Safety! He had managed to reach Neha’s tent.

‘Neha!’ But the bed was empty. His mouth went dry. He needed to find someone! Someone human!

‘Arjun!’ He did not dare look up. A hand was on his shoulder. He finally looked up and saw Neha smiling.
‘What are you doing here so late?’

‘I….I just came to check that you were okay. You know, you were so scared…’

‘Actually Arjun, you’re the one that looks like he’s just seen a ghost. What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing yaar. I try to show a little concern, sensitive being that I am, and these smart retorts are what I get in return!’ He hoped that it was convincing.

She laughed. Why was there a twinkle in her eye? Was it her, then? Had he really annoyed Neha so much that she had performed this elaborate ritual just to get even? He knew that Neha could go to great lengths if she was determined to do something… and yet...

But he would never ask. How could he? If only he had had the courage to stick to his beliefs. If only he had trusted his own theory that he had so zealously defended. If only he had followed the mysterious woman, caught up with her, and exposed her for the fraud she was. ‘After all, the soul is a battery’, he smiled bitterly.

The author believes that he is a classic case of the 3 idiots syndrome - Engineer from Pune University + MBA from IIML, and now blundering along in life, Vivek writes for release. He also plays the guitar for release, but his neighbours seem to prefer the writing!

Image Attribution: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Oyuki.jpg