Thunder was approaching, and the forest waved uncontrollably. We were already on our way to the sih (natural spring).The forests of Mizoram were dense back then, with leopards, Bengal tigers, clouded leopards, Serows, Sambar (Deer),etc. Teeming with wildlife that it’s even a biodiversity spot right now. We often are mostly known, maybe, for our head-hunting ways, look it up, it might amaze you.
Where was I, oh right.The sih(natural spring) that we went to, on that day had rumors. I often laughed off these rumors as they are often exaggerated. But Uncle Jerome had the experience, he came home, speaking gibberish. He had high fever as he reached home, he went to that place. With visitors going home, I thought we would have a sleepless night, but boy was I wrong.His chewing was weak, like he didn’t want to bite on to the porridge we made. He always looked past anyone who was interacting with him, looking off into the distance.Our village didn’t have electricity, so the fire at the fireplace was all there was. And as the fire does, so does the activity.With the fire already dead, embers sparsely scattered on the pile of ash. He started talking clear, as if he never had that ordeal in the first place. I heard it clearly, it was a confident sentence, he said, in the darkness, “Do you want to know what happened?” We did, the window gave way to the moonlight, revealing where he was sleeping. His hair has turned white, facing the window.He said ,”I was supposed to come home, with trophy Sazuk(sambar)”That was not out of the normal, he was a good shot, and a good hunter. He had hunted many before, their skulls lining the front of our house, as some sort of flaunting of his success.“But the baby stopped me.” He said. Without a hint of joking. Stern, assertive.“It had curly hair, it was dirty. I thought it looked at me but, it looked past me.”“I knew I was seen though.”He started crying uncontrollably, coughing soon after.As the sobs closes in weakly towards silence.I met up to check on him, but he was already dead. He was all cold, as if he had died since his hair turned cold.It was a long night, but in Mizo custom, the deceased are fortunately given company as some sort of vigil. It gave me great comfort, as I heard whispers, people too knew it was not a natural death.
And that was the sih we were heading towards, and that today, I thought it was going to be like every other time we went here. We bag a small barking deer, or maybe a sambar. That was how it usually goes.That day was different. Rinkima went ahead, leading the way. I was just behind him. We both felt something was wrong, but that was the usual feeling when you’re about to start a hunt at one rumoured haunted place. We were both afraid of seeing a baby out there in the woods.It was lightly drizzling but it turned into a downpour pretty soon. We reached the community hunting stand which wasn’t big but it was enough since it had a roof.It was pitchblacked and visions of Uncle Jerome’s description still haunted me, Rinkima was kinda angry. We didn’t bring provision for days, it was for that night only. And he wasn’t leaving without something to show for it.He couldn’t convince me to move out to the hunting stand which was small and located closer to the sih.The stand is pretty sturdy and it also provides a place to recline, kindof like a small coffin shaped hunting stake sticking out of a tree, or two trees in the specific one.The storm wasn’t ceasing, but I swore I started hearing lefts being stepped in in a hurry. It made me raise my Hunting rifle but I couldn’t see anything and the community hunting stand needed the use of a ladder to get to, it was elevated and safe.Then I heard the gunshot, it was distinct from the torrents of rain but it did not even echo. A muffled gunfire in the storm.Excitingly, I could already smell the smell of meat with rice, a small feast of sorts.Making tea, i slowly waited for Rinkima.Firewood after firewood, log after log. Time seemed to be expanded.Then it came clear and crisp, Rinkima’s voice calling me from the side opposite of the Sih. He was not supposed to be on that side.He called out to me, and only used me name.There were different times I could hear dry leaf being stepped on, as someone or it sounded more like a 4-8 people just running in circles and zigzags around me.All the same voice, never calling me from the same place twice. The call jumped around from different places.The Voice suddenly stopped, and the leafs being crumbled stopped. And the sound of light drizzle soaks up all the spotlight.“If you’re my friend, you’ll come retrieve me corpse.”“Come fine me. Before I come find you.”Was what he said, it wasn’t cold, but there was something in the voice that made it sound desperate yet playful.I knew that was my queue to go, get the fuck out of there, I quickly took one, two , three torched.Something inside me told me that I was going to die if I stayed there.And so I went, it was dark, and the torch wasn’t much help as it was dense vegetation. Hilly terrain, even after years of going through them, make it easier in the rain. I guess I’ve seen worse people, from outside, when they come and try, I guess we may have some advantage from experience.Every step was cold, I was drenched, and my torch kept trying to give out, in which I had to cover it from the rain to stop it from dying.And as I ran, “Wait for me” he said, and called out my name.Leaves were rustling behind me as if someone was following me/I never dared to look back once.
At one point, I swore, there was something which walked between my legs as I was taking a breath.
The story doesn’t end there but I am new to this and if you want updates on my Mizoram adventures from way back in the day, I wouldn’t mind telling you folks. I have been entertained these few years, I’ve finally mustered up the courage to write one. English is not my first language, so be gentle.