The Moving Lantern of Jhapar Khal

--Ziauddin Choudhury

Among many stories and legends of the paranormal that we heard or witnessed in our
grand parents’ village of Usmanpur one stood out as the most enigmatic and eerie of the
lot. This was the legend of a lantern that moved on its own around Jhapar Khal, a
waterway that connected that part of Sylhet with the hinterland. This was a natural canal
that resembled a shriveled up stream in winter months, but one that could take a river like
shape in the monsoons. This canal became the only means of communication with the
rest of the world, by boat of course, when the dirt roads leading to Tajpur and beyond
would go under waist deep of water. People traveling to the bazaars and Sylhet town
would take country boats from a small pier on the Khal, which was about half a mile
away from our grand parents’ home. Several seasons we ourselves had to travel by
country boat from this Khal when the region went under water.

The sightings of the moving lantern were reported by many travelers descending at the
pier in the evening. First they did not pay much attention to it as they thought it was
perhaps a man either walking to, or away from the pier. But people started to express
their wonder since after several sightings they observed that the lantern kept circling the
area, and no human being materialized. This wonder was further exacerbated when the
boatmen who remained at the pier till late at night continued to observe the light off and
on, and no one approached the pier.

Several explanations were offered by people for this apparently supernatural

phenomenon. Some villagers dismissed this as only an illusion. Some said this was the
work of some prankster. The educated ones opined that the light was caused by swamp
gas. The superstitious ones opined that this was indeed a ghost carrying a lantern, who
subsisted on fish (Masua Bhoot). There were yet others who confidently said that this
was the spirit of an ancestor who was reportedly drowned in the canal a hundred years
before. No one was sure about who or what it was, but the sighting would be reported
every now and then. The phenomenon would have remained ignored had it not been for
what happened one occasion that coincided with our annual visit to Usmanpur.

That year we went to Usmanpur the place was completely inundated by heavy rain falls
that never seemed to stop. We had to take a boat from Tajpur where we had arrived by
bus from Sylhet town. There were five of us, mother, myself, and my four brothers. Our
sister Buland had not been born then. Father did not or could not come due to his office
related work.

Once in Usmanpur I thought we would have enormous liberty to frolic under the
indulgence of Nani, our grandmother, what with father being absent. But this was not to
be since our movement was restricted by water all around. Very soon we found ourselves
totally bored in the marooned home. To get us out of our fidgety mood, grandmother
decided to send me and two younger brothers, Kohinoor and Khokon, to her cousin’s
house in Hiorkhail, a village about three hours away by country boat. The two younger
brothers, Khoka and Bablu, stayed home with mother since they were very small.

To our utter delight three of us brothers literally set sail in a comfortable country boat (it
really had sails or “paal” as these were called in Bengali), escorted by Haroon Mama, my
mother’s cousin, and Muslim, our Nani’s man for all seasons. The three hour ride was
filled with fun as Muslim charmed us by catching fish with a net, and we ate the fish
cooked by the two boatmen right on board. We spent three days in Hiorkhail getting
pampered by Nani’s cousin. The spooky phenomenon would, however, occur on our way
back.

We had started after midday on our return journey in the same boat loaded with food that
was given by Nani’s relatives, both for our consumption on board and for Nani and others
in Usmanpur. Given that the entire trip from Hiorkhail to Usmanpur normally took about
three hours, we expected to be home well before sun set. This, however, was not to be.

About an hour after we left Hiorkhail, we encountered a huge mass of water hyacinth
(known as German Fena in Sylhet, called so probably because of foreign origin of this
plant). German Fena was the scourge of the boatmen who navigated the area. It would
require tremendous effort and time to clear the waterway for a boat to ply. And so it did.
We all plunged into the cleaning effort with whatever we had in our hands to steer the
country boat. The result was that by the time we arrived Jhapar Khal it was already very
dark. We were relieved to reach the pier as we painstakingly got out of the boat.

I had forgotten about the moving lantern story, and we all were proceeding home as a
group oblivious of the haunting lantern that lurched in the area. After a few steps I
realized that Khokon, our third brother, was not with us. Now, this Khokon, who was six
or seven that time, had a curious nature. While walking with us, he would often fall
behind examining a plant or an insect, or picking up pebbles. When we turned back to
look for him, Khokon shouted at us “Look, a light”, and he pointed toward the other
side. We all looked and beheld what looked like a lantern swinging about a few hundred
yards away from us. I was immediately reminded of the ghostly legend, and was almost
transfixed. The two boatmen asked that we do not look any more and hurry home. But
Muslim, our escort who was kind of a desperado, wanted otherwise. He had once earlier
commented that this was nothing but a trick by some young hood of a neighboring
village. He wanted to find this out once and for all.
Muslim asked us to wait and took off for the other side shouting at the invisible person.
We stopped as Muslim bravely dashed in the darkness in the dirt road chasing the lantern.
We were amazed since the lantern started to move fast away from Muslim as he
continued his run still shouting. After a while we stopped hearing any shout from
Muslim and inexplicably the lantern also disappeared. We thought it could be that
Muslim had stopped running and was turning back. But after a few more minutes when
Muslim did not return Haroon Mama got very worried. He asked one of the boatmen to
go after Muslim and find out what happened.

The boatman left with some reluctance. We continued to wait near the canal bank
enveloped by a dark sky amidst sounds of owls, and chirping crickets. After ten minutes
or so neither the boatman nor Muslim returned. We were not only worried, but totally
scared. Haroon Mama plucked up some courage and said that he needed to go there
himself. Kohinoor and I volunteered to go with him. The second boatman stayed near the
canal bank with the two younger brothers.

With his flash light pointing our way through the dirt road ahead, which had tall weeds
growing by the side, we started to walk toward the way Muslim and the first boatman had
gone. We probably had gone about five or six hundred yards when we saw, under flash
light, the legs of a human being protruding out of the tall weeds in a lying position. We
stopped in our track, and Haroon Mama fearfully pointed the flash light toward the bush.
We saw the other half of the human being. It was Muslim lying in the weeds as though he
were dead.

We both rushed to Muslim and found that he was still groaning; he had severe burn
marks on his face and hands. He was groaning in pain, while muttering some words. We
dragged him to the road and put him in one side. Now where was the boatman, Haroon
Mama and I wondered. Haroon Mama asked me and my brother to remain beside Muslim
while he started to look for the boatman. He probably walked a hundred yards when he
gave a loud cry and asked to me join him. We ran toward him. There under the flash
light we saw the boatman lying on the road. When he approached him he was convulsing
like a man possessed, with locked jaws.

This was too much for Haroon Mama to handle with only two young boys by his side
who were already frightened to death by the sights. He let out a big holler for help hoping
that people from homes nearby would hear and come out. And indeed they came; as also
the other boatman with my brothers in tow.

It took four hefty people to carry Muslim and the boatman to Nani’s house where a very
anxious family waited for us. Both Muslim and the boatman regained their
consciousness after repeated dousing of water. Muslim needed some locally improvised
medical attention for his burns which were on his cheek, and arms. Fortunately, the
boatman had no injury. He stopped convulsing, and his jaws had unlocked. But both
looked at the assembly there with a dazed and faraway look. They did not speak that
night, nor did they eat. They simply went to sleep in the outhouse.
It was two days later that Muslim narrated to Nani and others his horrendous experience
that terrible night. The boatman was also present. Muslim said that he really thought that
the waving lantern was the work of a neighborhood lad who was known for his pranks,
and he wanted to catch the prankster. However, when he was chasing the light he did not
see any soul. Even then he courageously tried to see who it was and ran a short distance.
As he took a turn, he saw the lantern flash right before his eyes and found that it was an
open flame. Before he could do anything, the flame caught his face and burnt his cheeks.
He burnt his arms as he tried to protect his face the flame. As he sat on the road with
severe burning pain, he felt something like a Dheki (rice husker) fall on his back, and
pound him to the ground. He did not remember anything after that.

It was the boatman’s turn to tell his story. In a voice still gripped by fear, the boatman
stated that when reached the fateful spot, he saw Muslim struggling with what appeared
to be a flaming torch. He did not see any human being holding the flaming torch. As he
lunged forward to help Muslim, he felt an icy hand gripping his neck from behind. Before
he fell to the ground he turned his head to see his assailant, and all he saw was a face that
seemed to be covered in ash, with eyes like two balls of fire staring at him. The sight was
so ghoulish that he immediately fainted. He did not remember anything after that.

Well so much for the speculators who thought that the fire was the work of a prankster, or
the more erudite theory of swamp gas that caused the fire. The story of the night attack
on the two men spread like wild fire in Usmanpur and the neighboring villages. People
avoided the pier after dark. The boatmen took leave of their profession for several
months, and Muslim never ventured to the canal bank for more than a year.

We left Usmanpur that year with the haunting experience that would awake us at night
for several months after we had left. A year later we heard, however, that the lantern
sighting had ceased. May be the ghostly lantern bearer had found a more interesting
place to scare people.

(As is in the case of all my stories the characters are real, but the incidents are fruits of
my imagination.)
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