This is not a cock-and-bull story and not like numerous stories told for ages past and present and, may be in future, such stories will continue to sway the readers, but the facts I am going to tell are culled from my experience at rented residence and office-room. Not many years back, I was the chief manager of a company of high repute in a sub-urban area where I had no other alternative, but to stay till late evening to complete half-done works left over by the staff members and executives. The office was functioning in a three- storied, old building.
At ground floor, the cash section, the armed guard room, the urinal and lavatory existed; on the first floor existed the main transaction hall, the system room and my chamber while in the second floor, the advances section functioned with a second latrine on the terrace. Above all, the structure of the building was one of a godown type.
The office-time was 2.30pm and 5.30pm on Saturdays and all other working days respectively and nobody save me was to be found in the office after 5.30pm on any working day. Of course, one armed guard at the ground floor was always a welcome sight: but the distance between us was one floor and twenty-five meters.
My chamber had a partition and the separated portion adjacent to me had a door through my chamber. The room had a type-writer and two big iron safes for important records. The room was a mysterious one which was regularly kept closed by the head messenger provided to me. In the evening you could hear the sound of somebody typing and his movement. If you venture to go inside, as I did on a few occasions, the light would go out and a feeling of somebody pushing you would be felt. I had to fresh wiring of the room twice, but to no avail.
My head messenger would tell me that Mr. X who was a typist dead earlier was doing typing even after a few years after his death. Be it as it might have been I failed repeatedly in my attempt to purge my room of the spirit during four years of my stay at the office. It might have been a mirage that I saw his backside on a chair at a counter working during midnight a few times, but never his face which was always obscure in the dark.
As written atop, the building had two latrines on the extreme end side of the ground floor and another on the second floor terrace. When I did not know of the danger inside the ground floor latrine, I went to it only thrice in the evening and each time I faced some music for overlooking the advice of others. Even the armed guards who stay there three or four together in the night do not dare to go to the ground floor latrine as they admit. So far as my experience goes, it is horrible.
Once, at about 10.30pm in the night, while going to the urinal, I found it engaged as somebody unidentifiable was standing there. After a few minutes when I did not find him return, I went inside to find him still standing ; this time a little bit deeper, but it was headless. I shouted at the top of my voice and hearing it the guard on duty came with a torch light and rescued me, so to say. Twice more, also, I was caught in such mysterious whirl-pool every time the guards on duty coming to my rescue. Then I stopped going there altogether, but was convinced that spirits with overriding power exist.
