In 1930, we were celebrating the birth anniversary of Sri Guru Harkrishan Sahib Ji at night in our village Gurdwara. This Gurdwara is situated outside the village, next to the school. After the Bhog, while standing near the Nishan Sahib, we noticed that some distance away a large fire was burning. As we watched, it suddenly went out. A little while later, we saw flames coming from different directions towards the same spot. They gathered together and once again took the form of a large fire.
We showed this sight to the Mahant of the Gurdwara, Seva Das Ji. He said, “These are ghosts and spirits, and they are playing their games. We will blow the conch shell. When they hear its sound, they will run away.” So he blew the conch shell with great force, but it had no effect on them.
Finally, we decided to go to that place and investigate the whole matter ourselves. The Mahant Ji’s disciple, Manohar Das, was about my age. All the others were children studying in the third and fourth grades. I used to teach them how to handle a stick. I told everyone to take their sticks with them. Taking two lanterns along, we set off towards the place.
On the way, Gulab Singh Mehra was sitting there guarding the melons. He asked, “Baba Ji, where are you going?” When I told him, he tried to stop us, saying, “It is not right to take such small children there. These are things from the outside world. What do you have to do with them?” But we continued moving forward.
We had gone only a few steps further when the large fire went out again, so we also sat down there. After a little while, the flames gathered together again and began their strange display. I said, “One, two, three,” and all the children ran towards the fire. But before we could reach the spot, it went out again, and we lay down there and began to wait.
This time, when the fire appeared again, we could clearly see that some beings had gathered around it and were dancing and jumping around the fire. Whenever they came in front of the flames, only their legs could be seen moving. Their bodies and faces were higher up and could not be seen in the darkness. We tried very hard to see their faces, but we could not make out anything.
Then I ordered the children to run as fast as they could and reach the spot. But we were disappointed because the whole display ended once again. We quietly lay down under a large mulberry tree so that even our shadows would not be visible.
A considerable amount of time passed this way. Then we saw a tall man coming towards us. We thought that one of their brothers was coming. I quietly told the children, “All of you, attack him with your sticks.” When he came near us, he became frightened after seeing so many of us lying there in the darkness and shouted loudly, “Ya Allah!” I recognized his voice. He was from our village.
He was a potter and the caretaker of the large orchard. He was supposed to go home at night to eat his meal. On the way, he had seen the ghosts’ fire burning and had stopped, intending to go home only after the fire had gone out. When he saw so many of us sitting under the tree, he became frightened, thinking that perhaps we ourselves were ghosts.
We all went together to the place where the fire had been burning and examined the area in the light of the lamps. We searched for any coal, ember, or warm patch of ground that might show where the fire had been burning, but we found nothing.
After some time, the fire appeared again in a corner outside the large orchard, some distance away, but it soon went out.
From that day onward, I made it my routine to go and sit at that place after Rehras Sahib Paath and Kirtan at the Gurdwara, and keep repeating, “Waheguru, Waheguru.” Several days passed this way, but nothing came of it.
One day, while returning home after doing my abhiyaas there, I saw a flame burning a short distance away. I thought it was a farmer standing there to divert the water of the canal. But when he did not answer even after I called out to him, I started walking towards him. He suddenly began moving forward, and I followed him.
Whenever I ran towards him, he would also run. Whenever I slowed down, he would slow down as well. In this way, I followed him for about two and a half miles. In the end, disappointed, I returned home.
The next day, while I was walking towards that place playing the flute, a flame suddenly emerged from underneath a lasura tree. It touched my chest and passed away. Terrified, I dropped the flute from my hand and collapsed, almost unconscious. I do not know how long I remained in that condition.
When I regained consciousness, I realized that my entire body had become stiff like stone. I tried to move my hands and feet, but they would not move. I wanted to utter “Waheguru” with my mouth, but the word would not come out.
Finally, I began reciting it mentally, with full concentration. This caused my blood circulation to start again. After some time, strength returned to my body. I got up and stood on my feet. With all my strength, I recited the Shabad:
“Thir Ghar Baisahu Har Jan Piaare. Satgur Tumre Kaaj Savaare.”
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As soon as I began moving forward, I saw that the flame was burning brightly right in front of me. I became angry and moved towards it, but my body was exhausted and broken with fatigue. Even though I tried with all my strength, I could not run.
Seeing me, the flame also began moving away, and the same thing that had happened on the first day began again. Suddenly, I saw a very large canal flowing across my path. I was astonished. Where had this canal come from?
I knew there was a small water channel, a khaal, at this place, which I had crossed on the first day. I tried hard to convince myself that this was not a canal but only the small khaal. Yet it appeared to me to be a large canal.
I walked around to the right and left, looking for a bridge over the canal or some opening of the khaal through which I could cross the water, but it was of no use. The flame kept repeatedly challenging me from the other side. Finally, I took off my clothes, tied them around my head, and decided to swim across the canal. But I could not gather the courage to do so, as fear had left me extremely weak.
In the end, I realized that it would be dangerous to go any further that day. It had already attacked me once, and I would not be able to withstand it a second time. So I put my clothes back on and started walking towards the village.
Now the flame suddenly spread wide and stretched itself across my path, as if saying, “I will not even let you turn back.”
When there was no other option, I turned my attention inward and firmly began to pray to Satguru for help. Yet I was afraid inside that the moment I closed my eyes, it would grab hold of me.
I do not know when my eyes finally closed. When the Ardaas was completed, I said, “Nanak Naam Chardi Kala, Tere Bhane Sarbat Da Bhala,” and touched the ground. By then, the flame had completely disappeared.
I was still afraid that it might return and trouble me again. So instead of taking my usual route, I took a more distant and unfamiliar path and kept repeating “Rabb, Rabb” until I reached home.
After that, I continued going to that place for several days to do Simran and Abhiyaas, but the flame was never seen again.
Translated from Bhajan Bandgi Da Partap – Sodhi Harbhajan Singh
My First Night in the Haunted Bungalow
In 1933, we established an industrial company in the name of Maharaja Narendra Shah of the Tehri-Garhwal State. The company was involved in extracting raw resin from pine trees and trading in other mountain products. I was fortunate enough to be appointed as one of the directors of the company.
The other directors told me, “You are young and have your summer holidays, so you should go.” So, along with another director, I reached Rishikesh. We purchased the necessary supplies and loaded them onto four mules. We also hired a servant to cook our food and took a potter along with us to make kasoras.
In this way, four of us, myself, my servant, a mule driver, and a potter, set out on foot from Rishikesh. Once night fell, we continued travelling from one resting place to another. We were supposed to start our work near a small village called Adwani in the Kujani Patti area. We looked at several places to stay, but no one was willing to give us a house.
Finally, one day, while wandering through the forest, we came across a very beautiful bungalow. There were small rooms on both sides, two large rooms in the front, and a veranda extending out in front. The building had a tin roof.
One of the large rooms was empty. In the other, there were wooden cupboards containing what appeared to be old records. We cleaned the empty room and spread pine leaves on the floor so that we could use them as bedding and sleep there at night.
We then went to a shopkeeper to purchase supplies. When we were returning with our belongings, the shopkeeper asked us, “Where are you going?”
He said, “Brother, that is a very dangerous place. Do not go there.”
But I paid no attention to his warning and continued on our way. The shopkeeper ran and brought the village Numberdar. The Numberdar also tried to stop us from going to the bungalow and then told us the following story about the place:
“This place used to be the Range Office of the Forest Department. Whenever Maharaja Sahib travelled towards Tehri, he would sometimes stop here to rest during the afternoon.
One day, the Ranger became stuck here while working. Since he did not think it was safe to travel home in the darkness, he decided to stay here for the night.
During the night, a ghost appeared and frightened him. It warned him, saying, ‘From now on, never stay here at night again, otherwise I will kill you.’
The next morning, he told several people what had happened. But they told him, ‘It is just fear in your own mind. If there really had been a ghost, it would not have let you live.’
To test whether the story was true, the Ranger had his gun and revolver brought to him the following day and once again slept in the bungalow.
The next morning, we found that the door was locked from the inside. The Ranger’s body was lying inside, with his gun and revolver lying beside him. We informed Maharaja Sahib, and a few days later, another Ranger was sent there.
The new Ranger was very fearful, so he began doing his office work from our village and left all his belongings at the bungalow. One day, there was a meeting of all the Rangers at the D.F.O.’s office. Our Ranger cried and complained bitterly, saying, “I am suffering terribly.”
Another Ranger who was present there, and who belonged to the Arya Samaj, said to him, “There are no such things as ghosts. You are simply frightening yourself. If you are really so afraid, exchange places with me.”
Both of them gave their consent to the D.F.O., who approved the exchange, and they changed their respective postings.
As soon as the Arya Samaji Ranger arrived, he went around the surrounding area announcing that a Yagg and Havan would be performed at this place. A large number of people gathered. The Havan was performed inside the bungalow, followed by a Bhandara.
Afterwards, he stood in the veranda and gave a lecture, saying, “O people of the mountains! You are unnecessarily afraid. There are no such things as ghosts. Even if there are such things, they all run away when Vedic mantras are recited and Havan is performed. As proof of this, I will stay here tonight, and you will see that nothing will happen to me.”
That night, he slept in the same room. But the next morning, when we went there, we found that the Ranger and his horse were both lying dead.
From that day onwards, by order of Maharaja Sahib, no one was allowed to go there. A separate Range Office was established elsewhere, which the Numberdar pointed out to us from a distance.
After telling us the entire story, the Numberdar tried to explain to us that deliberately testing a place that had already been proven dangerous was the work of fools.
But I paid no attention to his warning. Taking refuge in Gurbani, we continued towards the bungalow.
Seeing this, the Numberdar said, “At least write down for me that I have explained everything to you and that you are going to stay in the bungalow of your own free will. This way, Maharaja Sahib will not be angry with me.”
I refused to give the Numberdar anything in writing.
The Numberdar then told his companions, “If anything happens to them, all of you are witnesses. I have told them the entire story, yet they have still chosen to ignore our warning.”
We reached the bungalow before it became dark. The mule driver and the potter had left us and gone away.
As soon as we reached the bungalow, the first thing I did was cut a branch from a tree. I recited the complete Shabad beginning with, “Taati Vao Na Lagai Parbrahm Sarnai…” 108 times over it, and then drew a Ram Kaar around the bungalow.
We thought to ourselves, “Who knows whether we will even live to see the morning, so let us eat and drink something.”
So we fried Malhpure and prepared Karah, and the two of us ate to our fill.
We decided that during the night, one person would remain awake while the other slept, so that if any danger appeared, the person who was awake could warn the one who was sleeping.
The servant went to sleep first while I remained awake. But how could I possibly fall asleep myself? Because I kept getting frightened by the thought of death again and again. I wanted to read something by the light of the hurricane lamp, but I simply could not concentrate.
Only a short while had passed in this state when we heard the roar of a lion in the distance. Gradually, the sound came closer and closer. I thought that it might be a man-eating lion. Perhaps it had caught our scent and was coming towards us.
When the lion roared again after coming even closer, the servant let out a loud scream and fainted. I too kept saying, “Waheguru, Waheguru,” and prayed, “O True King, please save us.”
Finally, the lion reached us and drank water from the stream flowing outside. I thought that perhaps the lion was planning to enter the room through the tin roof. But by the grace of the Giver, my Ardaas was accepted, and the lion turned and went in the other direction.
I finally breathed a little easier and began doing Naam Simran with even greater enthusiasm.
Now it was the turn of the ghosts. In the pitch darkness of the night, they began making extremely frightening sounds. At the same time, I began striking the sword of Naam even more forcefully.
Then the ghosts started breaking branches off trees and throwing them onto the roof of our room. Whenever I heard the loud cracking sound of the branches, I would run around in fear, worried that I might end up underneath a falling tree.
After this continued for some time, it finally stopped. Then they began throwing huge stones. Just as before, whenever I heard the heavy thudding sound of the stones falling, I became even more determined and continued reciting Naam with greater strength.
By the Kirpa of Satguru Ji, we had drawn a Ram Kaar around the bungalow, and because of this they did not have the courage to enter inside.
Finally, when the ghosts realized that their efforts were having no effect, they made a sound like a tremendous clap of thunder. I thought that lightning had struck the roof of the building.
I remained lying there in a semi-conscious state. I do not know how long I was in that condition.
When I regained consciousness, I saw a fire burning beside me. I had lit this fire earlier to protect ourselves from wild animals, because wild animals generally do not come near fire.
In my semi-conscious state, I thought that perhaps I was going to be burned alive in this fire. I lay there completely numb, unable to make a sound.
I continued doing Simran mentally. This gave me so much strength that I was able to sit up and began reciting Naam loudly so that my fear would go away.
In this way, the night finally passed and dawn broke.
My servant was still lying unconscious.
Meanwhile, the same village Numberdar, Bahadur Singh, arrived with four or five companions carrying torches to check on us. When I heard the sound of their footsteps, I thought that perhaps the ghosts had returned.
When the Numberdar and his companions came straight into the veranda, I thought that perhaps the Ram Kaar outside had somehow been broken. With this thought in my mind, I began to draw another Ram Kaar inside my room.
I drew another Ram Kaar inside the room. Just then, they knocked on the door, but I was not willing to open it because I had heard that ghosts can take a person’s life by breathing together with them.
When they knocked on the door again, instead of saying anything else, I loudly said, “Waheguru!”
Hearing this, the Numberdar called out from outside, “Jinda hai, Jinda hai!” meaning, “He is alive, he is alive!”
I recognized his voice and opened the door. They all came inside and, upon seeing me alive, were so astonished that they fell at my feet. They began to regard me almost like a divine being.
I told them, “My servant has been unconscious since last night. Please do something for this poor man.”
So they brought warm milk from the village and put it into his mouth. He opened his eyes briefly, but then screamed and fainted again. They continued massaging him for some time, and eventually, quite late in the morning, the poor man regained consciousness.
Although I had gone through a very frightening night, I did not let anyone know what had actually happened to me.
We stayed in that same bungalow for about a month, and no further incident ever occurred.
News about us spread throughout the surrounding area, and people would travel for three or four days just to come and see us. They began treating us almost like gods.
The lesson from this entire account is that Gurbani and Naam possess such great power that even hidden evil spirits cannot harm a person. However, what is needed is genuine Shraddha and Vishvaas.
Translated from Bhajan Bandgi Da Partap – Sodhi Harbhajan Singh
