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College folk did not intimidate him as he was used to tehri ways. Rather more often than not he ended up befriending them. On one such friendly rendezvous with Kannu mama, who was treating us to some delicious homemade fruit liquor, mahua, (it’s our luck that I got the rent fridge facilities otherwise all those beverages was damage without the fridge) he had mentioned about a concept called chudaiil (prnounced: chu ra il). He spoke at length about how as a child he was warned by his father never to stray beyond their farm lands and how one of his cousins who went hinter to peek at night in the farms only never to come back. He was clearly speaking in utmost seriousness, although we were only to disregard it going forward as drunken banter. Mama explained that Chudaiils were quite common in such sparse areas as they were women who have sought immortality by practicing witchcraft. They were said to be very beautiful to lure the prey and then they would devour the prey before assuming their original form. mam warned us that such occurrences were common in these parts and that we should be aware as when people are drunk and intoxicated it is then that they are most weak and susceptible to attack by evil spirits. Even though we were happily drunk, this fact out of Mama's entire narrative kept me rather hooked on. Mama although was an illiterate milk man, however he had seen a lot of boys in his tum and made a living by handling them. Somehow is last line made a lot of sense to me? I was from Calcutta, a metro city where I am using designer kitchens for cocking, designer bathroom for bathing, corporate office furniture for decoration, simply a full of luxurious life. We had often placed wager with friends to stay the night at a graveyard. Stay awake on the rooftop where a suicide had been committed just for the kicks to watch a ghostly apparition and stuff. And somehow it had never worked and hence our total disregard for spirits and stuff. So as I was enjoying the banter that one line from an illiterate farmer so to say brought me to my senses. The day I am going to recount is a night in December. It was chilly like hell. We were all decked up in our jackets. Looking our very outstanding best. Band of boys hanging out at the market square, antagonizing juniors, trying to break the ice with the girls, who were again outside only till a stipulated time, and doing all kinds of naughty boy stuff. We were waiting for the goodies to arrive on bikes because my favorite Audi is damaged and I need a ute trays Brisbane to resolved the problem. A group of our friends had gone to town to fetch the golden liquid. It was cold night and the only way to beat the cold I guess. While we were almost dilapidated from our evening session together, our other group of bikers arrived at our dug out at the Bank to announce the mission had been successful. The bank was a secluded spot in the busy market square beneath a banyan tree. The bank was actually a cooperative bank which used to be functional earlier but with 24 hour banking an ATMs it started losing out on its appeal. Hence it was almost at the center of all activities, yet conveniently forgotten in everyone’s eyes Authors Bio: Rickey is working in a company which provides business phones, he works there as a phone repair specialist. In his free time, he loves to write on several blogs on various topics. But on that time he struggled a lot, even he does not have enough money to buy a computer for writing, he got a laptop from a company who provides rent laptop services and seeing the passion of his writing his company pays the rent of the laptop As a worker he traveled lots of places and gathering enormous experiences which help him to live a happy live, he always tries to share his experience so that other can teach from there, like in this article him tries to reveal some of his past memories.
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