Raju had now been wondering for months what lay in that dark tunnel; but it was only today that he had finally decided to enter it and discover the truth for himself. The tunnel used to be a railway passage during the British Raj. But now when the British had left, and the railway line rebuilt at a more convenient site for the urban settlement, the tunnel lay desolate and deserted in the outskirts of the city. It had later been used as a shortcut to a nearby village for some years; but now, with the construction of a shorter new road, it was seldom used for this purpose even. In fact, what remained now was the fossil of the actual tunnel – mummified in the balm of slime and lichens; braving the unbearable heat of neglect and age. The walls of the entrance to the tunnel, with a brick missing here and there, gave a ghastly look – sufficient for the place to be rendered haunted. Raju had been told that the place was home to the spirit of an English officer, which asked people passing through the tunnel to light its cigarette. If the passer-by did not have a matchbox with him, the spirit would slap him hard before vanishing. Many locals had actually had the taste of going into the tunnel without a matchbox, he had been told. To him, the tunnel, with the tales and mysteries surrounding it, appeared utterly challenging. His school having been closed due to the death of a patron, he walked straight to the tunnel from school. With both his parents working and away in their offices, it was the ripe moment for him to chase his adventure.

Standing at the dark entrance to the tunnel, Raju looked around him to make sure nobody was watching. In his heart, though, he knew none had vacation to roam at this worthless place at this peak working hour of the day. He took out from his pocket the matchbox he had just purchased from a shop near his school, and struck a couple of sticks to make sure they were not moist. He then lit a dim torch fitted in his cycle key-chain, and with some cautious steps, entered the tunnel – partially lit by the sunlight charging in through the wear and tear in the roof. The tunnel retorted with a smell that vexed him to the extreme. He was instantly reminded of the day when he had accidentally left open the gas-jar containing hydrogen sulphide in the laboratory, and had run out vomitting. He decided to walk on the left side of the remains of the rails, lest he should get hurt by the rusting iron. Even to have an ATS injection, he would have to tell his parents the entire episode. Trying to clear the spider-webs in his way, and shooing away with his water bottle the mosquitoes gathered in thousands to taste a bit of the encroaching blood, he prayed he would not have to accept the hospitality of the snakes inhabiting the tunnel. As for the spirit, if it was true, he was carrying the matchbox with him. He couldn’t anyway risk getting slapped – that too by a ghost – when he knew he could avoid it.

Raju had penetrated about a hundred metres into the tunnel and there was still no sign of its other entrance. Sometime ago, a bat had indeed smashed into his face, and several others were still hovering about restlessly having sensed something alien in their surroundings. He had so far been lucky enough not to have come across any snakes, but who knew when he would have to face a furious reptile, ready to defend its territory with its only weapon – the most feared in the world? The pungent odour that had been troubling him earlier had now died – or perhaps his senses had adjusted to the surroundings. He saw a light in the distance; and in the light he saw something lying across his way. It was black and moved a bit at the sign of his arrival. He felt the blood freeze in his veins. Could the English officer be a magistrate dressed in black? He had never cared to ask his classmates who claimed their acquaintances had seen the spirit. Stopping with a thud, he fumbled a bit and unable to get any support from the slimy walls, crashed right in front of the object. At this, it stood up and with a loud bark charged towards the opening of the tunnel. Raju smiled at his cowardice, stood up and cleaned himself up with a handkerchief. Lighting a matchstick to look for the tiny torch that had slipped off his hand, he felt his fear roll down his temple, and his heart beat like the giant drum used in the school parade. For the first time he realized that in this mutilated corpse of a tunnel, he was all alone. That nobody would come to his rescue if something happened – a snake, some wild animal or... For a moment, he contemplated going back, having found the torch lying between the rails. But the adventure of the tunnel would not let him quit. He carried on.