A Ghostly Tale: One Winter’s Night

A Ghostly Tale: One Winter’s Night

This happened many years ago. My friend, a doctor who had just finished medical school, had moved to a small town in North Bengal to start his practice. I heard this story directly from him.

Establishing yourself in a new place takes a lot of hard work and time. My friend didn’t lack energy or patience, but people are often hesitant to trust a new doctor; they usually stick with the ones they’ve known for years. However, he had graduated with honors in pediatrics and won a gold medal. He decided to put "MBBS, DCH (Gold Medalist)" on his nameplate, and slowly, a few patients started trickling in.

After a few months, winter arrived the kind of bone-rattling cold you only find in North Bengal. After dusk, the streets would empty as everyone retreated indoors, locking their doors and windows against the chill. No one ventured out unless it was an absolute emergency.

One night, around ten o'clock which is quite late for a small town in winter—the doctor was tucked under his quilt, comfortably reading a medical journal after an early dinner. He was engrossed in an article about a complex surgery performed by a surgeon in Philadelphia. Suddenly, a frantic knocking at the front door startled him. He wondered who it could be at such an hour; it had to be an emergency.

As I mentioned, my friend was a determined man who never let laziness get in the way of his career. He quickly wrapped a warm shawl around himself and opened the door. He took a sharp step back in surprise. Standing there was a beautiful young woman, the vermilion in the parting of her hair glowing brightly. Her face, however, was pale with intense anxiety.

"Doctor, my daughter is very sick," she said, her voice trembling with desperation. "Please, come quickly."

"Where do you live?" he asked.

"It’s not far. Please don't delay," she pleaded.

"Alright, come inside and sit for a moment," the doctor said. "Let me get ready."

"I’m fine here. Please, just hurry."

The woman seemed unwilling to step inside. The doctor noticed she wasn't even wearing a shawl just a thin cotton sari and she was barefoot. She looked like she came from a respectable family, and he felt awkward leaving her standing in the freezing cold. But she insisted, "Don't worry about me. Let’s just go."

He threw on a heavy overcoat, grabbed his bag which he had pre-packed with essential medicines and stepped out.

"Should I give you a shawl?" he asked hesitantly.

"I told you, don't worry about me," she replied, sounding a bit impatient. "Come."

He locked his door and followed her. She walked quickly ahead of him through the dark, deserted streets. The atmosphere was unsettling. He couldn't help but wonder why a woman was out alone at this hour. Didn't she have any men in the house? Who would let a young woman out in this cold by herself? It felt wrong.

After walking for a while, she stopped in front of a house. Turning to him, she said, "The front door is unlocked. Go inside, I'll be right there."

She then disappeared into the shadows near the gate.

The door was indeed ajar. He pushed it open and entered. The first room was dark, but there was a light on in the next one. He walked in and saw a girl, about a year and a half old, lying motionless on a bed. She had curly hair and a sweet face, but she was unconscious, her skin flushed deep red with fever.

An elderly man and woman likely the grandparents were sitting by the child. The woman was applying wet compresses to the girl's forehead while the man fanned her. Both looked utterly devastated. They looked up when they heard the doctor’s footsteps.

"The doctor is here!" the man said, standing up, a look of immense relief washing over his face.

The doctor took out his stethoscope and examined the child. Her fever was 105 degrees. It was pneumonia, but fortunately, it hadn't reached a fatal stage yet. He immediately gave her an injection, wrote a prescription, and handed it to the grandfather. "Get these tablets and the next injection in the morning. I’m leaving some medicine for tonight; give it to her every two hours. I’ll be back in the morning."

"Will she be okay?" the old man asked, his voice shaking.

"Yes," the doctor smiled. "The medicine reached her just in time. Any later and it would have been dangerous."

Just then, a young man rushed into the room, looking frantic and disheveled. Seeing the doctor, he said, "Oh, you're here! I saw the lock on your door and thought you were out on a call. I ran to two other doctors, but they refused to come out in this cold."

The grandfather looked confused. "You didn't call him? Then who brought him here?"

"That's right," the young man added, turning to the doctor. "Who gave you the message?"

"The child’s mother," the doctor replied. "She came to my house and said it was an emergency. I was surprised she came alone so late at night, especially without even a shawl."

"Her mother?" the old man whispered.

At that moment, the doctor’s eyes fell on a framed photograph on the wall. It was the same woman, smiling at him as if expressing her gratitude.

"There," the doctor said, pointing to the photo. "She’s the one who brought me. She walked me to the gate and told me to come in."

The room went deathly silent. The young man suddenly buried his face in his hands. Confused, the doctor looked from one face to another.

"That is my daughter-in-law," the old man said with a heavy sigh. "She passed away at this time last year."

The doctor stood there, stunned.

Faced with her daughter's life-threatening illness, a mother’s spirit couldn't remain still. She had taken a human form to bring the doctor in time. Such is the power of a mother’s love.

The little girl recovered completely. After that night, the doctor’s practice flourished so much that he never had to wait for a patient again. He became known as a "Dhanvantari" a healer with a divine touch. Yet, he knew the truth: his success was rooted in the devotion of a mother who crossed the boundary of death to save her child.