The shrill scream of a boy broke the quiet of the night. Mangal turned to his mother Sati in the middle of the night and snuggled into her blanket. When asked what happened, he said he saw that nightmare again—where some man with a big moustache stands outside the window and peeps inside. Sati observed the wind that hissed through the streets of the village. When she looked outside the window, just a stray leaf fell on the veranda of their little sandwalled house with a thatched roof.

His mother Sati consoled and hugged him to sleep while his father Bhola lit the lantern. The parents got worried about why Mangal kept getting this nightmare. Was there any truth to it? They were on the busy side of the river. The side has many small huts full of sugarcane farmers. Their house was bound on two sides with sugarcane fields. The third side had a poorly built village road full of pebbles and the remaining had an unoccupied hut. If someone came through the farms or the road, they would hear him. It was doubtful for someone to be doing this.

Mangal got ready for school the next morning. The school stood next to the village temple and required each student to bring a jute bag to sit on. He carried a tin box shaped like a mini suitcase containing school books. The textbooks had still not arrived this year, so Sati had copied the whole history book from a neighbour’s kid. Mangal preferred that his mother wrote it because he found her writing more legible than his father’s.

After having his favourite Halwa, he walked to the school with Bhola. As the father-son entered the school, a teacher approached Mangal and greeted him. She then turned to his father and shared an observation that Bhola kept staring at the window during the class lessons. He was not focusing enough on his studies lately. His class knew him as the class clown. But he seemed quieter than usual. No more heckling the teachers. No more quirky questions. Bhola promised to talk to his son later that evening.

That night Bhola decided to lie down on the window side instead of Mangal. They had one wooden bed in the hut. The kitchen occupied a corner of the same room. There were no partitions or attached rooms for any privacy. They all slept together. The mother was on a mat on the floor and Mangal was with his father on the bed. The boy joined his mother on the mat this fateful night. Around midnight, they all woke up to the sound of the window opening up. Mangal was pointing to the window saying that it was the same man again. His father unfortunately didn’t see anyone but what disturbed him was that the window was in fact open. There had to be someone there to open it but if he hadn’t frozen in his place, he could’ve possibly run to the window and found out how this happened.

When Sati was asked what she saw, she struggled to put words to it. “I think it was just a bird. Why would some ghost peep into our house?” “You think it could be a ghost?” Bhola asked surprised. Sati denied mentioning it and went back to sleep like nothing happened. Mangal and Bhola kept whispering about it until they fell asleep.

The following morning Bhola explored the place around this window in and out. There was a thin walkway through the sugarcane farm where someone thin could pass but to reach this hut he would cross a thick irrigation pipe. That was not easy in the dark.

When Bhola consulted Sati, she was equally puzzled about what to do. Sati was concerned about how the boy’s nightmares turned out to be true. She insisted on travelling to her mother’s place for a few days and performing Satya Narayan God pooja before that to bring peace to their household. They invited the village priest and performed pooja on the same day. They packed their belongings for travel but decided to wait another night before starting. It was too late as the sun had gone down. Sati was in no hurry to head home because of the unfortunate circumstances that led to her marriage with Bhola. Her family was not particularly fond of Bhola but had to marry her to him at the earliest to save the family from embarrassment.

That night, the three were off to sleep together on the mat, away from the window. They locked that window and tried to catch some sleep. Mangal clasped the arms of his mother tight. Bhola kept getting up to check the window locks. Deep into the night, there was a loud sound of the window being thrust open. Sati asked Bhola if he had closed the window properly. He was sure he did. Mangal confirmed it. The shock from the sudden noise didn’t let any of them sleep thereafter. None of them dared approach the window. They just waited for something or someone.

“I will go bring Budhiya. His house is not far. It’s not safe to be here on our own. I am sure I had closed the window.” – said Bhola. Bhola lit a lantern. But when he moved towards the exit, despite protests from his family, he saw their door opening slightly. He took a step back and observed. He saw a head peeping into the hut. A burnt face with a big moustache appeared partially leaning from behind the door. When he moved forward to get a better look, he saw the rest of his body lingering in the air. Feet with burnt skin floating above the ground. Torn burnt clothes covered his body. In the dim light of the lantern, Bhola was questioning his sight. He questioned his sanity.

“Do you see what I see?” Bhola whispered to the others in the flickering lantern light. They were as stunned as him. “Shh…don’t speak. He is watching us.” Sati managed to warn him while placing a hand on her son’s eyes. And then there was an eery silence for a few seconds that felt like days.

“You don’t have to be afraid.” the floating image broke the silence. “I am just here for the boy. I want to talk to him and tell him the truth.”

” What truth?” interrupted Sati. “I am the mother. You have to talk to me before anyone else.”

”I am surprised how soon you forgot everything and moved on. I just want to tell the kid.” the strange image hissed.

”What do you know?” Bhola turned to Sati.

”I knew him from school. He was burnt in the factory fire.” She turned to the figure and yelled,” Go away. It is too late, Sudhi.” Sati yelled and yet shivered.

“Sudhi?” Bhola was baffled.

”Are you Sudhi? Arey Bhai, Who are you? What do you want to tell us? You have to tell it to me first. I am the father of this boy.”

”You stole the words from my mouth, Bhola.” Said the floating image with a smirk. ”You stole my life. I am the father of this boy. The Dead Father.”