Cringe posting अतीन्द्रियो

@Ateendriyo

Want to hear a ghost story? Let me tell you one! I feel safe telling these only on a Tuesday. Story has been received from a friend, who heard it from a medical officer in some military or Paramilitary battalion or refinement.
There was this Medical Officer, who was posted to glacier region. It was one of those snowy, dark, cold nights, and the Doctor Saab (as army and Paramilitary forces call their medical officers), was sitting in his tent.
This Doctor saab was the son of some big shot bureaucrat, and arrogant to boot. Competent, compassionate towards patients, and all. But, arrogant, and with a hair trigger temper.
That night, doctor Saab was angry. Really, truly angry. He had called up his commander who had slightly berated him. Mind you, this chap wasn't used to listening to any crap from anyone. Listening to some khaalis 100% "daant" from someone, that too
Some non medico! Huh!! Our doctor Saab was pissed, and his anger was about as high as the altitude where he was at. Why was he getting this daant? Well, the commander had wanted to know why doctor Saab was still at the post where he was.
You see, Doctor Saab was acclimatization. For non medicos, that means, he was supposed to reach a higher post, but was stuck at the lower post (lower in altitude) coz of the weather. There had been a small window of good weather, but doctor Saab had ignored it. Mistake!
So, it was around 4 30 pm when our doctor Saab received the commander's call. Angry, beyond measure, the doctor took a snap decision. He would leave to the higher post that day itself.
Now, mind you. This isn't Delhi, it's some glacier in some part of the nation where 4 30 is like late evening. Anyhow, the orderly is ordered, samaan is packed, and off goes the doctor to the higher post.
The distance is barely 20 minutes, and the snow scooter is ready. The orderly pleads with the doctor to not go, glaciers are a strange land after all. Terrain is unpredictable, and even disregarding that, people say stuff about glaciers. That they're treacherous. Doctor Saab
Laughs at it. "treacherous", as if terrains, geographical entities have personalities. The orderly perhaps picks up on this derision. "Saab", he said, "not all people you meet may be alive. Not in this place". The doctor is a man of science, and laughs off the orderly.
And off he goes. The orderly, a devout, devoted individual, stays by the phone in the post. Minutes pass, then an hour, then hours. It is now almost 8 pm in the night, and a terrible snow storm has hit the post.
But the doctor Saab has not reached the higher post. It is not possible to send anyone after him. Two days later, when the storm finally settles, some clothing and other items are found next to a crevass, way, way off the route to the higher post.
Doctor Saab must've lost his way, and fallen into the crevass. What is a crevass I hear you ask? It is a trap, a yawning gap between two edges of ice that are close, yet not touching each other. It swallows humans, men, materials and animals; hypothermia must've taken
The doctor, like anyone else. This particular crevasse was deep, and the two edges almost touched each other. A small bridge of sorts connected the two edges. In his fury, in hurry, perhaps our doctor missed the bridge, and was now a victim to the crevasse.
The poor doctor's family was informed. Now, well. The family was well connected, devout and deeply religious. The father somehow managed to reach the post where his son was last seen. His aim? To recover the dead body, the mortal remains of his son.
Impossible, said everyone. Impossible, said the commander, now overcome with guilt. Yet there was some hope. Not in the armed forces, not in the Paramilitary forces, but in some civilians. These people are local to the terrain. They know it almost as well as anyone.
Money was exchanged, a lot of it. Why? Because even these civilians knew that the crevasse was, as they said it, "evil". The way to enter a crevasse is to come at it from one corner that might be quite some distance away.
Yet they were convinced. Money, after all... And down they went, these civilians, to get the dead body of the doctor. That poor, poor man, whose rash decision had now broken his family irreparably.
The father waited by, desperate for any news, hoping to finally see his son. Hours passed, and it was only late at night did the civilians return.
One look into the leader's eyes, and the father knew he was not going to leave this place, this cold, stark hell, with anything that remained of his son.
Yet, he asked. He had to. What had happened? Did they reach the bottom of the crevasse? Yes, said the leader. They had. It looked like he would rather not say anything. Yet the father asked. What did they see?
"Bodies", he said, strangely expressionless, "just bodies, too many to count, too many to recall". The remains of hundreds of people, animals, now in the crevasse for all time.
The father's face blanched, and only with some effort did he ask them, "was my son there?" Yes, he was. He was not difficult to find. He was, well, "fresh". We tied him up, what remained of him that is.
To carry him out, to bring him to you. "But?" asked the father, now with some strange glimmer in his eyes, both hope and disappointment dashed against each other.
We moved him, the leader said. We were surrounded by dead bodies. The thing is, we tried to move him. We couldn't. The body didn't move. The more we tried, the more it remained stuck. This was strange, since the body didn't stop itself from being tied up.
"The body didn't stop itself?!" said the father incredulous. Yes, it didn't. Perhaps it didn't mind the clothes we covered it in. The father, a man as famous for his loquaciousness as his son had been for his anger, was now at a loss for words
The leader continued, nevertheless. So we left him there, in that crevasse. We couldn't move him. As we turned away, the man said very matter of fact, I heard a voice. Not just once, but repeatedly, over and over again.
"Kya Yahaan humein doctor nahi chahiye?" "Kya Yahaan humein doctor nahi chahiye?" "Kya Yahaan humein doctor nahi chahiye?"... We moved out, as quickly as we could. Your son, whatever remains of him, has found his place.
Do not disturb him, for he has moved to a post that we cannot reach. Not in this life.
The father's story ends here, what became of him, we don't know. But not the Story of the doctor. A few days later, another medical officer came to the post from where our doctor Saab had left that fateful evening
He completed his acclimatization, was declared fit, and moved (carefully and early in the daytime) to the next, higher post. He approached the crevasse. He couldn't cross it. He had a splitting headache. Yet, when he moved back to the base post, he was okay.
The next day, he tried again. He couldn't, the same splitting headache, nausea, pain... All of this he could tolerate, the unease, almost visceral fear that took overbooked when he approached teh crevasse, he couldn't
The new doctor knew what had happened. He had a solution.
The next time he approached the crevasse, the medical officer got off from his snow scooter. He stood at the edge of the bridge, and came to a full attention position. He smartly saluted the crevasse, and said
"Jai Hind, sir! I, Army number So and so, named So and so, have come to relieve the medical officer in the further post. Your reliever, Sir, is following me"
And, so from that day, to this day any doctor Saab who crosses that crevasse, salutes, reports his army number, rank and name, and confirms that the medical officer who will replace our doctor Saab, is following him.