The Hills Have Eyes.

We had been planning for the vacation for more than a couple of months now. It had become a sort of tradition over the last three years of college- a Goa vacation in the winters and a mountain getaway as soon as the spring/summer semester got over in June.

The idea of going backpacking to Lohaghat was Robin’s. We were in the middle of one of our Horror Marathons at Banga’s place when he had first mooted the idea of taking off to Lohaghat.

‘Wouldn’t it be scary and cool?’  he had asked incredulously.

Akanksha had scoffed at the idea instantaneously. In our group, she was the one who was the easiest to frighten. I still remember the time when Banga had quietly put his phone by her bedside following a night of binge-watching Paranormal series and then called on his number from the other room. The scary HUHAHAHA ringtone had sent Akanksha screaming and running madly throw the dark house. Banga had carried a black eye for the rest of the week.

‘We are SO NOT going to Lohaghat.’  She had said pointedly, but ultimately gave in because the idea caught our fancy.

‘Aaand we can record it! Our very own Blairwitch Project!’ declared Robin as he took out his Samsung Galaxy S4 Zoon and flashed it proudly.

For the uninitiated, Lohaghat is supposedly one of the most haunted hill stations in India. A picturesque town situated in the high hills of Uttrakhand, Lohaghat has long been known for the legendry Abbey, a colonial bungalow where even the bravest of hearts have shuddered to step in.

On the morning of our departure, it had rained cats and dogs. Akanksha had been going on and on about signs of ominous tidings ever since she had gotten in the car, or that’s the first thing Banga told me when I met them at ITO Metro station at 7 in the morning. We had planned to leave at around 5, but the rains had greatly set us back. Lohaghat is almost 10 hours from Delhi on a good day. We wanted to check in to the only Villa we had found on Airbnb before sunset.

The journey was remarkably uneventful. We stopped once at the McDonalds plaza just out of Meerut and once after Roorkee. I took over the wheels as soon as we started our ascent. That is the deal I had cut. I would drive in the mountains if they wanted me to come. This was the first time we had decided to drive ourselves rather than get a cab and I wouldn’t trust others with mountainous road. 

Sometime after crossing Champawat, Tripti and Banga had started making out in the last row of the Innova. Robin had immediately taken out his phone and started recording the action. I laughed, Akanksha scoffed like she had done pretty much through the day, but Tripti and Banga didn’t seem to notice. We had rolled down the windows and the music was really loud. It was completely dark by now and we hadn’t come across another soul ever since we had passed through Champawat.

‘Guys, STOP IT. You’ll have plenty of time once we are at the villa.’ Akanksha chided, but was asked to shut up by Banga.  She was the easiest one to scandalize in our group. 

‘DJ, Stop the car. I want to ride shotgun. I am not sitting at the back and watch them exchange saliva.’  She scoffed.  I laughed and brought the car to a halt and she quickly exchanged places with Robin and we set off again. Robin was now sitting directly behind and had presumably started recording again.

We drove in silence for the next half an hour when we reached a fork.

‘Which way, Banga?’  I called out to our ‘navigator’ busy at the back. He ignored me, but obviously. In his place, I’d ignore me.  I looked look at Akansksha, exasperated. Just then, we heard the unmistakable roar of a Bullet and sure enough, there was a headlight flashing brightly in my rearview mirror. I waved a hand as the lights drew near, and the bike came to a halt right by my side. Somewhere behind me, I heard Robin whistle.

‘Lohaghat?’  the tall blonde foreigner asked me, her hair flowing behind her. She was clad in black, top to bottom and the kohl lined eyes. Damn, I was sold. She leaned in through the window so that her lips were barely an inch from me, and said softly, ‘This way,’ as she pointed towards the left. She withdrew just as suddenly as she had leaned in, and added, in a quiet undertone, ‘If I were you, I would turn the music down. The hills don’t take kindly to intrusion.’

She kicked the bike hard, and was off before I could say anything.

‘Woah, dude did you look at-’ Went Robin as soon as we resumed her journey, but was immediately cut short by Akanksha, ‘What did she mean by “hills don’t take kindly to intrusion”/ Don’t you think she was weird? How did she know we were going to Lohaghat? I don’t like this. We should go the other way.’

I never got a chance to reply, for at that very moment, a rickety scooter over took us from nowhere. It was green in color, and there were two men riding on it. The one who was riding pillion looked back at as they passed us, and slowly, his neck turned one eighty degrees. He looked at us, and smiled. The most eerie smile I’d ever see. His teeth were crooked, and his tongue jutting through them. He gave a screech, and the scooter turned a bend, and disappeared. Akanksha screamed; Robin cursed, and I 

brought the car to a screeching halt.

‘WHAT THE HOLY FUCK WAS THAT?’  

The Unbreakable Vow

"The sky shone bright with stars, while the half-moon glowed faintly. Apart from the occasional wisps of the cloud, nothing obstructed the clear sky. For a while, the loud singing and music, the laughter and the hullabaloo followed him, but slowly, they grew faint, and ultimately died." -Emergence, book 2 of the Avaasya Trilogy.

 I have oft been told that I write like a dream, and not in the conventional sense of the word; but the kind of writing where you forget a mere 16-year-old has written what you’re reading. I have also been told more than enough that I am terribly vain when it comes to my writing. But I suppose that’s okay? If you’re good at something, might as well be proud of it. After all, they say, ‘rule the words; rule the World.’

A lot of people have wondered how a guy studying in class 10th could come up with a plot as complex and write details as vivid as what makes up The Avaasya Trilogy.

I think a major reason for my success- howsoever small it might be- is the fact that I was a voracious reader growing up. I would read anything and everything I could get my hands on and would get so overwhelmed by the ability of the words to transport the reader to another world all together that I always knew writing stories is the only way forward. I was 11 when I decided I’ll surpass JK Rowling one day. I was 19 when I decided I want to be the Rajesh Khanna of Publishing Industry. 

Obviously, the fact that I am smooth with words is true not just for The Avaasya Trilogy or my Blog, but also extends to my conversations and interactions with people in my personal life. The kind of person who knows how to say the perfect things at the perfect time-? Who can smoothly put the most scandalous of questions to you in the most nonchalant manner ever. The kind of guy who gets his way around things every time. You get the gist, I’m sure?

The question is, why am I writing all this on my blog?

Because, the reality is, I haven’t written anything new in the last four years apart from a handful of blogposts (I finished writing Emergence in two months after I got done with Equilibrium. I was 17 at that time. I’ll turn 23 this July.) Every time I have to add something to Emergence during the edits, life suddenly becomes a real struggle. Whenever I have tried to sit down and write a new short story or something… anything, words and imagination have failed me alike. A few days ago, my editor and I decided to add another chapter towards the end of Emergence. I thought it’d take me a couple of days at the most to write the 7-8 pages I thought we needed. I eventually mailed her 2 pages at the end of the week. Right now, I’ve managed to type in 500 words, having been at it for almost an hour. And this is how it has been for the last so many months. Years.

Where words once flowed freely, all there is nowadays is a blank piece of paper, and a pen. And a lot of people won’t understand what’s the big deal. But imagine waking up one day and discovering you can no longer breathe on your own. Or walk without support. Or run. Or swallow food. Drink water. Ride a bicycle, drive a car.

Imagine the struggle. The helplessness. The restlessness. And imagine living with it day in and day out.

 And I have only myself to blame for it. They say power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. As I grew up and started realizing the ease with which I could get anything I want simply because my words were smooth and the magic never waned, I started losing focus. You know the drill, I’m sure? The thrill of a new hunt, the charm of a new game?

And somewhere in the middle of all this, I forgot to read. And more importantly, I forgot to imagine. The way I look at it, the only way out of this fall is to be honest with myself. And the only way I can get back to writing the way I used to is if I have something to prove. To myself, more than anyone else.

So beginning today, I’ll try and post a new short story on the blog at least twice a month. That’s my Unbreakable Vow. For where’s the fun in the game if there’s no challenge?

Rajesh Khanna, the biggest Superstar there can ever be, had the most remarkable of falls because he refused to be honest with himself.

I don’t intend to be the Dark Star.