the headless ghoul of fenchuganj

8/8/2019 The Headless Ghoul of Fenchuganj

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The Headless Ghoul of Fenchuganj

--Ziauddin Choudhury

Fenchuganj is a railway station on Dhaka-Sylhet rail road where we would wake up in

the morning for breakfast on our trips to Sylhet. Even though Sylhet was less than an

hour away from that stop, for some reasons the steam engine that hauled the train wouldidle there for an hour or so early in the morning. This break allowed passengers ample

time either to buy hot tea and buns from the hawkers or step in side the station and buy

regular breakfast from the railway café. We, however, would eat our breakfast from theTiffin carrier that mother would carry since she had a horrible dislike for cafe food or that

hawked by the vendors running from end to end of the train.

This breakfast interlude alone would have ingrained Fenchuganj in my childhoodmemory. But there is yet another reason, a chilling experience associated with the place

that would keep the place always fresh in my memory.

Our annual trips to Sylhet, for that matter to Nanabari, were usually in the winter. One

year we missed the winter and went to Usmanpur in summer, more precisely in the peak

of the rainy season. Those who are familiar with the rains in Sylhet would know howterrible that season could be. It rained day and night with nary a single cloudless day.

Unfortunately that year the rains came down so heavily that the entire region was

flooded. The floods not only swept away the dirt road that connected Usmanpur with

Tajpur, the point from where we would board the bus to Sylhet, but also the stone-pavedroad to Sylhet. The floods affected our travel plans back to Dhaka adversely as we were

in a sense marooned in Usmanpur. Father hit up on alternate plan. He suggested that we

travel by boat to Fenchuganj and catch Dhaka train from there.

Fenchuganj by boat would be an adventure since it would take a whole day, and also

require us to stay there overnight and catch the Dhaka train next day. But Father couldnot stay as his vacation leave was about to expire, and we had school opening soon. One



rainy morning Father along with us two brothers embarked Nani’s family boat with

Harmuz, the family’s trusted helmsman at the oars.

I still do not know how Harmuz could navigate the waters since the floods had erased all

distinction between roads, canals, and paddy fields. But he was a master at navigating

these waters, and we arrived safely in Fenchuganj before night fall.

For the night we found lodgings at the local dak bungalow, which was near the rail

station. An obliging Chowkider helped us to unload our rain soaked belongings, andimmediately went about preparing meals for the night. In those days Fenchuganj had no

electricity. The dak bungalow was lighted by kerosene lanterns. The rail station was

lighted by slightly brighter Petromax lanterns. Even then, the whole place became very

eerie as the night fell, and everything seemed to be swallowed up by darkness in astarless night. The intermittent lights coming from the lamps at the railway station were

made foggy by the drizzle that kept on falling all night. There were no more trains that

night, and we would have to stay all of next day to catch the Dhaka mail train.

We had our dinner, which I must say was rather quickly made considering that the

Chowkider-cum-cook had very little time to prepare. The dinner was simple, rice, adelicious chicken curry, aloo bhaji, and dal.

About an hour after we had our dinner, I suddenly felt the urge to go to the toilet. I was

hopeful that there would be one adjacent to the bungalow, but I was told by theChowkider to my dismay that the only functioning toilet was in the back of the bungalow,

a good 300 yards away. He offered me a lantern and an umbrella to help me in my

mission. I was secretly hoping that he would accompany me, but there was no such luck as the Chowkider said he had to go to his own sleeping quarters. My father had already

turned in and so had my brother. Harmuz was already asleep on the floor of the sitting

room, leaving me no other alternative than to face the darkness awaiting me outside.

I stepped out to a very wet grassy surface holding the umbrella in one hand and the

lantern in another. I could see the lamps at the station now made very dim and moreghostly by the growing fogs that seemed to envelop them. I reached the toilet almost in a

hurry, and concluded the job in equal haste. As I was returning to the bungalow I

suddenly saw a very bright lantern coming to my direction. I thought it was some person

who probably was using the road leading to the bungalow from the station, but all I couldsee was only a moving lantern. I looked again, but did not see any person, only a moving

lantern. In a panic I ran to the bungalow. I thought I had seen something paranormal.

As I entered into the bungalow in great haste I fell on the floor waking up Harmuz. He

stood up and asked me if anything was wrong. For a time I was speechless. When I

recovered myself I told Harmuz that there was a moving lantern outside. Harmuzlaughed and said I was imagining things. I challenged him to go out and see for himself.

Still laughing, Harmuz took my lantern and umbrella and went out. I waited.



I waited and waited, but Harmuz did not return. I could not wait any more; I had to wake

up father from sleep. Father was first annoyed for being called from sleep, but when he

heard my story he immediately went out and called out loud for the Chowkider. TheChowkider, who had his sleeping quarters within the compound, came hurryingly. After

hearing me, he said he would go out and look for Harmuz. Father also offered to go out

with him, but he did not want me to go.

They were not out for long. Within about half an hour both returned carrying an

unconscious Harmuz in a hand cart that the gardener of the dak bungalow kept in theyard. Father said that they had discovered Harmuz lying unconscious near the railway

track, not very far from the bungalow. Father also said Harmuz would need medical

attention, but we would have to wait till morning since only local doctor would not be

available before that time. Meanwhile, the Chowkider tried to revive Harmuz byspreading some cold water on his face.

I do not know whether it was due to cold water or from just being inside a shelter, but

Harmuz sat up with a loud shriek, and started to shiver. When he looked around, and sawfather and us sitting near him, he embraced me and said he was grateful to God that he

was alive.

We were obviously very puzzled by his behavior, but most importantly we wanted to

know how he became unconscious. Did he fall on the slippery track and hurt his head,

father wanted to know. Slowly Harmuz began to tell us his horrendous experience.

After hearing from me about the strange moving lantern and an invisible person, Harmuz

went out incredulously since he thought it was my imagination only. As he did not seeanything in the court yard, he thought he would go a little further on the road leading to

the station, which is parallel to the railway track. He said when he was only a few

hundred yards on the road, he saw someone approaching him from the other side alongthe track. First he saw only the lantern, and like me he found it strange that it was

moving by itself. He thought he was having an illusion, and rubbed his eyes. Then he

thought he would go a little further along the track and see if there was really a lantern.

As he moved another hundred yards or so, he saw the lower part of a human, with a

lantern in one hand. He could not see the upper part of the body since the view was

partially blocked by a shrub on the other side, which was on a slightly higher ground.Harmuz, who was known for bravery, climbed up the track determined to see the person.

The moment he went up he saw this hideous sight, a full human body but without a head,

carrying a lantern in hand. He had only one look, and the rest he did not remember untilthis moment inside the bungalow.

Father did not know what to make of this astonishing, and seemingly absurd story. ButHarmuz swore that he was telling the absolute truth. When father was still shaking his

head, the Chowkider said that Harmuz was probably telling the truth. In deed he could

have seen the legendary headless ghost who few others had seen, but only one single

night every year. He then narrated to us the legend.



This happened many years ago, when there was no railway gate that would separate the

track from the road leading to the station. The gate was not considered necessary by therailway authorities as there were only a couple of trains that used the track that time every

day. Whenever a train passed a guard would stand near the road with a red flag and stop

road traffic till the train passed.

One morning when the guard was not present for some reason, a terrible accident

happened. The wheel of a bullock cart of a local farmer got stuck inside the track whowas attempting to cross the rail road. While he was attempting to rescue his cart and the

bullocks, the train was already on its way. With the guard absent from the crossing point,

there was no one to signal a red flag to the incoming train. Too busy in untangling the

wheels and the cart from the track, the unfortunate farmer was also quite unaware of theoncoming fast train. People say he had his head on the track when the train struck him. It

was all over in a minute, with the head of the separated from the body lying on the outer

end of the track. Somehow, the bullocks survived.

The very next night following the accident, some people saw a headless man walking

along the track with a lantern in hand. People say that the farmer was looking for his losthead. But it is not every day that the headless man was seen. It was only once a year, the

night following the day the accident had happened.

The Chowkider somberly remembered that was the very night.

the headless ghoul of fenchuganj

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