Indian Penal Code – Section 297
It was the summer of 2002; I got some money and bought a secondhand 2-Stroke Noisy bike, so noisy that you could literally leave your trail behind in sound and smoke. It was amazingly gold and stroked upon. This was the same year I started my fascination with speed and throttle. One of my senior Akhil Bhardwaj was a benchmark with his old rotten Rx-100; it was like a grandpa, old enough to rattle. His engine used to roar with a mere turn like that of a greasy finger.I must mention that even till date Akhil holds the record of the fastest ride in town on the same Yamaha Rx-100 (264 km in 3 hours 40 minutes!!!!) .Ohhh man those rides were orgasmic.
It was almost the same year for another new fascination of what a first year engineering student fell for. The measures in milliliters’ and the -logy of dilution Vs Concentration was overwhelming. Looks like the whole of chemistry labs jargon were distributed across table, with our kidneys and intestine as the lab rats. It was the year with no fear. On one ‘wet’ summer day, Ritesh (Sir), Akhil and I somehow started our journey from medical hostel road. Now wait a sec, ---- Don’t get wrong ideas, we were part of engineering crowd, but somehow, Medical and Dental girls forced us to stay nearby them. The one reason was that they were pretty and the other obvious reason was engineering girls were not so pretty.
There used to be numerous bikes parked by the hostel road, and there was one bike we were chatting upon. Suddenly we realized that the bike key was left in the key hole, Untouched. Ritesh brain was corrupt like hell and the fuse started glowing, throwing out ideas. We somehow were successful to half-steal the bike, then our consciences knocked us heavily and we stole some good 5 liters of petrol and left the bike back there. However, I was naughty enough to throw the Key as far as possible. Just the imagination of the frustrated owner upon his realization was making us wild.
The petrol used to be a resource and the power. In those days, 10 re petrol used to be costly and dearer to us. Since we were holding 5 liter of petrol in a Pepsi bottler, we needed to do something quick. There were 2 old swift bikes with us.
Ritesh: “let’s go somewhere; we have now liters of petrol.”
Myself:” But where, it’s already 1:30 AM.”
Akhil: “Yo man, let’s go!”
Ritesh: “Shimoga, Om beach, I know a place called Paradise beach where we can sleep on the
beach alongside some Israelis foreigner”.
Myself: “Have you gone nuts, we just have 5 liters not 500 Liters and there are two bikes, so
it’s like 2.5 liters each.”
Also the mileage was awesome, it was somewhere around 25-30Kmph.
Akhil: “Yo man, let’s go!”
Ritesh: “Akhil, shut your English, - but then we cannot go anywhere, this place is dead.”
Myself: “Anyplace, even a gutter will do, let’s go, think man think, I am still in my senses.”
Ritesh:”can you drive?”
Akhil: “Yo man, let’s go!”
Myself:”At least I will not send you to the graveyard”
Ritesh:”IDEA- I know a place- It’s a graveyard a real graveyard in Harihar. I ‘ve been there
once, It’s quite secluded too, we can sit and enjoy till sunrise”
Akhil: “Yo man, let’s go!”
Ritesh:”Yo, let’s go!”
Myself: “Yo man, let’s go!”
Akhil went to his room to get his bike key and returned with an SLR camera and another Pepsi bottle filled with some golden color liquid. Camera looked too complex that I refused to admit its brilliance. We kicked start our bike and took the main college entrance to hit the Highway NH-4. Harihar was some odd 20 Kms away from Davangere (A small town without any café coffee day or Domino’s). Within an hour we were outside the iron gate of graveyard. We looked out for any silhouette and carefully parked our bike behind the trees. Police in those days were like angels of death and we were too lively to encounter them. Akhil and I were young enough to jump the first hurdle off the wall, While Ritesh entered through the opening of the main gate. The gate was massive and rusty and had a squeaking sound.
This Christian cemetery was a rectangular secluded place. Peaceful and quiet, a perfect gateway for the night outs. It was away from all the liveliness. There was a factory at the back and towards the west of the graveyard. At regular intervals, some working sound was echoing in this wilderness from the factory. Soon our eyes got accustomed to the darkness and we started seeing things.
There were graves and only graves in that graveyard. Some were cemented and big, while others were like muddy humps. But all were graves for sure. An eerry feeling ran through our spines, and we felt the urge of urinating. Pissing in that grassy, dark pitch was a challenge in itself, to watch your own back was even tougher with the eyes looking everywhere. Akhil took out his camera and positioned it on the highest grave to shoot the lonely tree amidst graveyard and the shiny moon. He tried some funny poses for all his 10 min shutter speeds. Ritesh and I were chatting about ghost stories, comfortably resting on the platform of one of the grave. Soon the fluid was gone from the Pepsi bottle and we had enough of ghostly talks, I was enjoying the moment there. This was the best night I can ever have.
The night was shifting itself towards the horizon and the Sun was set to capture the sky. Light was slowly entering the graveyard and we felt darkness falling. It was now no longer safe to stay in the graveyard, we might get caught. Time to say goodbye to hundreds of mute occupants has arrived. All I wanted was, to take some memento in return. I saw a broken grave of Mr. Lawrence (1978-1999) and removed the wooden cross and carried it over to my room in Davangere. Akhil and Ritesh were smart and fearless enough to support me on that, though they called me crazy.
The name engraved was just one word, Lawrence, in black over the white cross. The bottom part was slightly broken and rotten due to mud. It looked psychedelic when I hanged on my wall as wallpaper along with my Jeans. I used to stay with Pratyush/Prats and somehow he got scared of Lawrence.
The Cross was corroded towards the lower end due to constant contact with earth and its worms. It gave a raw and necrophilia look. It acted like a scare-crow for my friend Gunjan & Vishal. I got all kind of warning from them. Moreover, all the shots taken by Akhil and his SLR came out to be pitch- black. The other pictures on the film were completely ok when printed. Somehow Kunal Pansari- Another friend of mine, after years, confirmed that these happened due to low exposure and got them scanned. However, at that particular time, it simply added fuel to the burning fire.
Soon after (within a Day and two), series of events startled all of my friends and I was forced to accept the conviction. Rohit sir’s (Our close senior who stayed next to us) pet rabbit died mysteriously and the other one went missing. Since this was the first incident nobody related it to Lawrence. The very same night Prats returned from his evening meal and found a dead cat just next to our door. Our room was situated on the third floor roof top. Somehow Ritesh and Me carried the carcass and threw next to the garbage pile. Panic stroked upon many. I was advised by my brave mates to discard “The Cross”. Somehow I managed to classify this all as rumor and called them cowards.
However, within week my aquarium fishes started dying and I was left with none. With all the animals dying nearby us was like a knock of catastrophe and all ears were erect for any sense of distant danger. Prats and I met an accident on my bike; though it was the mistake of the bicycle fellow which crashed with my bike, It was enough for my Roomy to blew his top. We got some bruises and Tetanus shots. and later the Cross-shot.
Somehow, I managed to pretend that Lawrence’s cross was no more in possession. Actually this was handed over to another believer of my clan – atheism; Gaurav Shankar. He kept the cross in his own room for the kick of some kinda orgasmic pattern.
4-5 months later we disposed the cross, in the same garbage pile, where we threw the Cat’s body.
Later, I went to graveyard twice with my other two friend’s gang.
This time I didn’t touch any of the cross.
Some facts which I discovered years later:
Section 297 of Indian Penal Code (IPC) entitled "Trespassing on burial places, etc", states as follows:
“Whoever, with the intention of wounding the feelings of any person, or of insulting the religion of any person, or with the knowledge that the feelings of any person are likely to be wounded, or that the religion of any person is likely to be insulted thereby, commits any trespass in any place of worship or on any place of sculpture, or any place set apart from the performance of funeral rites or as a depository for the remains of the dead, or offers any indignity to any human corpse, or causes disturbance to any persons assembled for the performance of funeral ceremonies, shall be punished with imprisonment of either description for a term which may extend to one year, or with fine, or with both.”
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3 comments:
A very nice narration brother. With a humorous start involving the beauties of engineering college and medical, and your mischievous act of throwing the key of the bike far away, you built a good start up.I particularly liked the way you described the events after "Lawrence" was in your room.
Also, it was short and crispy, so it interests me!
Thanks Gautam... ur comments are always awaited ©
bro nicely written!!!!!
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