The Creeper

“Who builds a big house with such a small door that’s hidden behind a vine?” Said Anushka to her friend, her business-cum-travel partner. Their cycle trip had been broken short by sudden rains.

Having business matters to discuss, they had hitched their bikes, walked up to the house and sat on the porch to talk. They talked of their business affairs until it grew almost dark. The evening was oppressively warm, the air stagnant.

About seventy miles from Delhi, on the road leading to Alwar, stood an old house that was last occupied by a family named Parihar. Since more than a hundred years no one has lived in it, nor is anyone likely to live in it again. Time and the negligence of persons dwelling around have converted it into a rather picturesque ruin.

Unacquainted with history, any tourist would put it into the category of "haunted houses,” Its windows are without glass, its doorways without doors and there are wide cracks in the ceiling. But these signs of the supernatural are partly concealed by the abundant foliage of a large creeper overrunning the entire structure.

The Parihar family consisted of Maharana Udai Singh Parihar, his wife Samiksha Devi, and two young children. Udai Singh was a silent, cold-mannered man full of pride, who made no friends in the area. He was about fifty years old, frugal and industrious, and made a living from the little farm which is now overgrown with brush and woodlands.

Come evenings, he often resigned to his old armchair by the fire and fine spirits. One fine day, his sister-in-law, hailed as one of the fairest and most beautiful dispositions ever heard of, arrived with her baggage. She blended in with the Parihars soon. Udai Singh and his sister-in-law were rather forbidden by their neighbours, who thought that they were seen too frequently together, in moments of unrestrained affection.

Samiksha Devi was a gentle, sad-eyed woman, lacking a left foot.

At some time in 1902 it became known that she had gone to visit her mother in Alwar. That was what her husband said in reply to inquiries. She never came back, and two years later, without selling his farm or his property, Udai Singh, with the sister-in-law and the children, left the country. Nobody knew whither he went; nobody at that time cared.

Presently both Anushka and her friend started from their seats in surprise; the long creeper that covered half the front of the house was visibly and audibly agitated, shaking violently in every stem and leaf.

"We shall have a storm," Her friend exclaimed.

Anushka said nothing, but silently directed his attention to the adjacent trees, which showed no movement; even the delicate tips of the branches silhouetted against the clear sky were motionless. They hastily passed down the steps to what had been a lawn and looked upward at the creeper, whose entire length was now visible. It continued the violent agitation, yet they could find no disturbing cause.

"Let us leave," said Anushka.

And they started to run away from the haunted place. They could not get out of the gate safe, as said by a commoner peeking from the bushes. Offshoots from the creeper chased them, coiled around their limbs and dragged them back – into the ground. Somehow, fighting for their lives, they scraped back to the surface and ran away.

The onlooker went to a nearby town, where he related this strange, “supernatural” experience to several discreet friends. The next evening, at about the same hour, accompanied by two others whose names are not recalled, the man was again near the Parihar house, and again the mysterious phenomenon occurred: the creeper was violently agitated. After an hour's observation they retreated, in fear.

By either a happy inspiration or some weird decision making, it was one day proposed to dig up the killer creeper during daytime, and after a good deal of debate this was done. Nothing was found but the root, yet nothing could have been stranger!

When the roots were carefully freed from soil they showed a singular formation. In their ramifications they made a compact network, having in size and shape an amazing resemblance to the human figure. Head, body and limbs were there; even the fingers and toes were distinctly defined. The figure was horizontal; face seemed grotesque, and the smaller roots had begun to unite at the breast.

In point of resemblance to the human form this image was imperfect. But one thing stood out. The figure lacked the left foot. There was but one inference – the obvious one. The ensuing excitement was settled by the head of the area, who as the lawful custodian, ordered the root replaced and the excavation filled with fresh earth.

Later inquiry brought out only one fact of relevancy and significance: Samiksha Devi had never visited her mother in Alwar.

Of Udai Singh and the rest of his family nothing is known. The house retains its evil reputation, but the replanted tree is as orderly and well-behaved as a vegetable bush. Nor that modern day tourists get any warning of its once-dreaded creeper. The ruin looks enchanting, though. And one commoner still goes about telling folklore – of screams and agitated voices being heard during the dead of the night.