The Shadow Behind You!
The city glowed softly under the fading evening lights. Sanjay, a 25-year-old young man from a small village in Haryana, sat quietly in front of a tiny paan and tobacco stall near the roadside. A worn-out leather bag hung loosely from his shoulder, and in his hands rested a folded local newspaper. With a red pen, he had circled several job advertisements—again.
The sun was sinking behind the buildings, painting the sky in shades of gold and orange. A mild breeze swept across the street. The traffic, which had been loud and restless all day, now began to slow down. Everything felt calmer… almost too calm. Inside the stall sat a man in his early forties, chewing betel leaves and skillfully folding gutkha packets. He was originally from Bihar, but everyone in the area affectionately called him “Bihari Uncle.” His real name was Golu Banarasi.
For nearly three weeks now, Sanjay had made it a habit to stop at Golu Uncle’s shop every evening. It had become his silent lookout point—where he could observe the city, think about his life, and hope that tomorrow might finally change something. Golu Uncle watched Sanjay stare at the newspaper yet again and chuckled. “Still stuck in the classifieds, huh?”
He said. “I’ve been watching you for almost three weeks now. Tell me… have you got even a single callback? You always look so tense.” Sanjay smiled weakly and ran his fingers through his hair. “Nothing promising, Uncle,” he replied. “I go to interviews every day. But when the results come out, it’s like my name never existed. Maybe… my luck’s broken.” Golu Uncle smirked and slowly rolled a gutkha packet between his fingers. Then he leaned in slightly and spoke in a low, unsettling tone— “Sometimes, son… it isn’t your luck that’s broken.”
He paused. “Sometimes… it’s the shadow behind you that’s cursed.” Sanjay frowned. The words hung in the air like thick smoke. “What do you mean, Uncle?” he asked carefully. “I don’t quite get it…” Golu Uncle didn’t answer right away. He calmly arranged a few paan leaves, then turned toward Sanjay with a half-smile and a strange glint in his eyes. “It’s nothing,” he said. “You’ll understand when the time is right.” He glanced around the street. “It’s getting dark. Time to shut the shop. Don’t you need to head home too?”
Trying to shake off the uneasiness creeping up his spine, Sanjay nodded. “Yeah… let’s go together.” Within minutes, the stall was packed up. The lights were switched off. The street around them felt quieter now—unnaturally quiet. Without saying much, the two men began walking down the dim road. Sanjay checked his watch. 8:30 PM.
The night had only just begun. After a long silence, Sanjay spoke. “Uncle… do you live alone?” Golu chuckled softly. “No, son. My wife lives back home. My only son works abroad. Got him married last year. They call once in a while… send money too. Enough to survive.” He turned to Sanjay. “But you… you come here every day, reading job ads. You never talk about yourself. What’s your story?”
Sanjay sighed deeply. “There’s not much to tell. My father’s a farmer. I’m the eldest. I came to the city to earn for my family. My younger brother is studying to become a doctor… I pay his fees. Everything depends on me.” Golu Uncle placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Don’t lose hope, son. Life demands sacrifices before giving rewards.” As they walked further, the road became lonelier. The streetlight above them flickered… and then suddenly died, plunging the road into darkness. This was where their paths separated. Golu Uncle pulled out a small flashlight and handed it to Sanjay.
“Take this. It’s pitch dark ahead.” Sanjay hesitated. “But Uncle, how will you get home?” Golu smiled, reached into his bag, pulled out a cloth, wrapped it around a stick, poured oil over it, and struck a match. A flame rose. “Where there’s will,” he said softly, “there’s always a way.” Before leaving, he added quietly— “And remember… if something feels strange on the way… not every sound deserves an answer.” Sanjay walked alone now. The road ahead was silent. Too silent.
Suddenly—BANG! His foot struck a stone. He fell hard. The flashlight rolled away into darkness. Pain shot through his ankle. As he struggled to stand, he heard it. A faint rustling sound. From the bushes. Slow. Deliberate. Not the wind. His heart began to pound. He remembered Golu Uncle’s words. Not every sound deserves an answer. Without looking back, Sanjay grabbed the flashlight and limped forward. Behind him…The bushes moved again. And this time— it wasn’t empty.....
๐ Next Part Update:
Part 2 – “The Owl and the Letter”
Coming very soon… Follow this blog for upcoming parts of this horror series.
