where are the ghosts?

in the cold winter nights, we would huddle, sit around a small fire
power cuts were normal
and at these times, darkness was welcome
and umesh would tell us stories
stories of his village
tales of ghosts
and tales of ghost busters
no, these were common folk
perhaps more daring than us
and through the flames i sneaked looks at others
they shuddered and yet clamored for more

the old witch in the tree
the one who roamed near the tamarind trees
and when it was time in the evening for women to cook dinner
would suddenly come down and demand food
a greedy witch
they told me long ago to look at the feet
they should be turned backwards, they said
and umesh confirmed

we talked about how my uncle once passed through a ghost
seven feet tall who asked for tobacco
in the cold winter nights, the tales sent an extra chill down our spines
but we still gathered
after umesh was done with the cooking
and had lit his fire
and folks at home were in their own worlds
it was a ritual
tales were aplenty
i suspect he made some up too

i had never seen ghosts
i felt umimportant in those little meets
but that was being a child
more fearless than now i guess

i live alone now
in a strange city
a city that is no america
i see all sorts of people around me
but no ghosts

and i miss umesh
sometimes i watch movies and read about ghosts
and i keep the light on
lest a ghost came by
but i still fall asleep
guess the ghosts are never coming
and the images I can't conjure
it is not the same

there is no fire
there are no little people around me
with expectant eyes and gaping mouths
hands shivering and faces dark and bright
the fire playing tricks
the eyes lit and yet brooding

there was a fear of going to the bathroom then
when all urged busy mothers to stand guard
in that innocence we underestimated the power of ghosts
what could our mothers do if one actually thought of paying a visit
and while in the bathroom, in the light of the candle
the shadows seemed weird
and we shouted at intervals
to assure oursleves
you never know the power of human voice
it cracks through the ominous shadows on the walls
where lizards elongated by the wavering light
seemed unnatural and unkind

it was long ago
when umesh and others were around
i remember he got me hooked to tea
and i have been drinking over-brewed tea ever since
out of habit and out of fondness

here i wander sometimes
most times
trying to pass those weary hours
in my house, in my little apartment
with the old sunflower wallpaper
the hours seem longer

i don't have a watch
i don't want to keep hours
i don't wait for nothing
it is a lull i am going through
only the change in the light
keep me in the realm of the time
and i wander even more
i believe in search of the ghosts of my childhood