A Strange Wrestling Match

T

HERE was once a wrestler called Vijay Singh. A tall man with

massive shoulders and muscular arms, he towered over

others like a giant. Vijay Singh, people said, was a born

wrestler and could beat all other wrestlers in the world.

This

pahalwan had but one shortcoming which often

landed him in awkward situations. He was fond of boasting.

One day, he was sitting in the market-place surrounded by

several young men. After drinking many glasses of milk, he

suddenly proclaimed, “Why are people afraid of ghosts? I am

not. I wish I met a stout ghost. I’d teach him a lesson.”

There were murmurs of applause as well as apprehension

among the young men. “If you walk alone at night through

the Haunted Desert,” one of them said, “you are sure to meet

ghosts. They roam there freely. Strange shrieks and moans

can be heard all over the place. Travellers have been looted

and killed. Would you really want to go there?” Vijay Singh’s

mighty heart missed a beat or two. Why did he have to boast?

“Yes, I have heard of the Haunted Desert,” he said

nonchalantly. “I think it’s just a fairy tale.”

“Oh no,” said one of his admirers, “it’s true. This place is

ten miles to the west on the road to Jaisalmer. The landmark

is an ugly black rock that looks like the head of a camel.

Beyond that there is nothing but sand and wilderness and,

of course, ghosts.”

Almost the entire

village turned up that

evening to bid farewell to

Vijay Singh, who was

ready to set out west.

Just then an old woman

came forward and thrust

a small packet into his

hands, and Vijay Singh

started walking into the

red sunset of the desert.

As he walked, the night deepened. The moon was bright

and the stars shone clearly in the Rajasthan sky. Still a few

miles short of his destination, Vijay Singh remembered the

old woman’s packet. He opened it and found nothing but a

lump of salt and an egg. The old woman was well-known for

her eccentricities.

As Vijay Singh stepped into the Haunted Desert, he heard

a voice. “Vijay Singh, Vijay Singh! You will get lost in the desert.

Come this way. I am your friend, Natwar.” At once Vijay Singh

realised it was not his friend but a ghost. Trying to sound

brave, he called back, “Where are you, my dear Natwar? It’s

dark and I cannot see you. Come here and show me the way.”

Like all good wrestlers, Vijay Singh wanted to size up his

enemy.

Soon the ghost appeared at his side. Vijay Singh peered

into his face and declared, “You are just a plain, lying ghost.

Anyway, now I don’t have to walk all night. I was longing to

meet you.” Not used to insults, the ghost was taken aback.

People generally started back in horror when they met him.

They often fainted. But here was this unfeeling creature

claiming he wanted to meet a ghost. It didn’t make sense.

“Really, I don’t know why you longed to meet me,” the

ghost said.

“That proves,” said Vijay Singh in a bored voice, “that you

are a stupid ghost. The least a ghost can do is to read a

man’s thoughts. However, a worthless ghost like you is better

than no ghost. The fact is, I am tired of wrestling with men. I

want to fight a ghost.”

The ghost was speechless. Marshalling his ghostly wits,

he made an attempt to look Vijay Singh scornfully in the eye.

“Frankly,” he said, “you don’t appear all that strong to me.”

“Appearances can be deceptive,” Vijay Singh said. “Take

your own case. You claim to be Natwar, though actually you

are a rascal of a ghost. If you doubt my strength, let me give

you a demonstration of it.”