Utavi!

I'm on my way to visit my grandpa in Tamil Nadu, and I thought it would be a great surprise to show up in the middle of the night. I didn't want to risk my car on the tricky routes, so I decided to take a bus. It's 12:30, and I've been waiting for the bus for a while. Finally, one shows up, but, ugh, it looks really old. I don't get how people still travel in these buses; it feels like a model from the 1980s. I just hope it gets me to my grandpa's place without any issues. I got on the bus, and it was so dark inside. I'm just trying to find a window seat. It's weird because it's midnight, and I thought people would be asleep, but everyone's wide awake, and they're all looking at me silently. I don't really care, though. I managed to get my seat, even though the seats looked really old-fashioned, like something from way back.

The journey began, and the conductor came over to ask for my ticket. I told him I was heading to Ananthanabhapuram, and he said it was 5rs. I thought he might need change, so I handed him the money. To my surprise, that was actually the price of my ticket. It was pretty shocking. I wondered if there's some government transportation scheme or something, but at that moment, I just shrugged it off—who cares, as long as I'm on my way.

Everything was quiet, and out of nowhere, there's this voice saying it's all dark. It turns out there's this uncle who came and sat beside me. He seemed a bit intimidating, and I responded with a nervous smile. Then, he introduced himself as Varun Gopal, mentioning that he works for Andhra Pathrika newspaper in Andhra Pradesh and is visiting his sister here. I shared my reason for the trip as well. There's something odd about the way Varun Gopal is talking. He's talking in a way that suggests a traditional accent, possibly influenced by his work in a newspaper.

Now, I began observing everyone on the bus. People were dressed differently – there were kids sleeping in their mothers' laps, a woman wearing jewelry, a guy with a random old model suitcase and a file with some company name on it, and an old man with a plate full of small sticks. It reminded me of stories my mom shared from her childhood.

Suddenly, a woman started crying from the back of the bus, disrupting the otherwise quiet scene. When I turned back, I saw a woman crying in a creepy way in the last corner seat. Startled, I turned back to my original position, only to feel a hand on my shoulder, sending shivers down my spine. The woman's eerie cries escalated as I turned back to see her shouting "utavi" repeatedly. Strangely, no one else on the bus seemed bothered; they remained still as if nothing unusual was happening.

In my confusion, I turned to the person beside me, hoping for some reassurance. To my surprise, even he was staring in a creepy manner and grabbed my hand without any prompting, intensifying the unsettling atmosphere on the bus.There was something seriously off, it didn't feel normal at all. Suddenly, everyone on the bus started shouting the same word, echoing in my head. Everything turned blurry, and I felt like I was losing my grip on reality. Acting on impulse, I started pushing through the bewildered crowd, ran towards the exit, and without thinking, I jumped from the still-moving bus.

As I fell, everything went black. When I came to, it seemed like morning, and I found myself on the side of the road. I shook off the disorientation, convinced myself it wasn't a dream and focused on the fact that I needed to reach my grandpa's house.

A passing vehicle came by, and I asked for a lift. Once on board, I kept to myself, choosing not to engage with anyone. Eventually, I arrived at my grandpa's house, the familiar surroundings providing a welcome relief from the bizarre events that had unfolded on that mysterious bus journey. It had been five long years since I last saw my grandpa. When I finally reached his house, the surprise was worth it. He was genuinely shocked and, with tears in his eyes, gave me a warm hug. To make the reunion even sweeter, I brought along his favorite dark chocolates. His happiness upon seeing them was evident, and for a moment, the haunting visuals from the unsettling bus journey faded away amidst the warmth of our shared joy.

Deeply disturbed by the haunting incidents, I retreated to a room and opened my laptop. The memories and words from that night continued to replay in my mind. Seeking some answers, I turned to Google and searched for "utavi." The result revealed its meaning — "Help!"

I began to ponder. Perhaps the woman crying was mentally challenged, but why were the others on the bus behaving strangely? Could they have thought I had done something to them? Maybe it was the late hour, and their reactions were influenced by partial consciousness.

Interrupting my thoughts, my grandpa called for breakfast, and I joined him downstairs. As we ate, he asked how I arrived so early in the morning. I casually mentioned taking the bus. Surprised, he questioned, "Bus? At midnight? They don't run buses that late; the last one is at 10.00 pm." I explained the peculiar 5rs bus, and he burst into laughter, saying, "5rs? That was the fare when I was your age! You seem a bit dizzy; maybe you should take some rest." Chuckling, he left me with my bewildering thoughts.

Feeling perplexed, I turned to my laptop once again and searched for information about the bus company, TTV. To my surprise, the result revealed that TTV had stopped its services back in 1999. This raised questions; perhaps the bus I was on had been revived by someone else, using these old vehicles on the same routes.

Reluctantly, I delved further into my search, typing "Andhra Patrika." The shocking revelation unfolded on the screen — Andhra Patrika had ceased operations in 1996. This contradicted that his claim of working for a newspaper that had closed years before. The confusion deepened, and I couldn't ignore the inconsistencies.

Attempting to make sense of it all, I recalled his name. Yes, that was it! Varun Gopal, the man from the bus. The pieces of this strange puzzle were slowly falling into place.

My hands trembled as I reluctantly typed "Varun Gopal Andhra Patrika" into the search bar. The results that appeared left me in utter disbelief and horror. A tragic bus accident claimed the lives of 16 people, including the editor Varun Gopal of Andhra Patrika. The incident was recorded in the archives, dated 8th September 1990.