The Lalbagh Ghost

Siddayya was a gardener in the park. He had done the short-term course conducted for

gardeners in the little campus that abutted Lalbagh. You can see the entrance into the

campus if you walk by the lake. He was a lucky chap, for he was of the right caste and age,

and he could read and write, and with a little nudge from an uncle who once used to work

in the park, getting the job was not a problem.

Siddiah was ambitious, and his extravagant living style – in relation to what he earned-meant

that he was constantly looking for ways to increase his income. The straight-forward way, of

course. would have been to find work as a part-time gardener in some houses, around the

park, maybe in Jayanagar or Basavanagudi. But this meant more back-breaking toil, and

moreover, he would have had to listen to Memsahibs displaying their bookish expertise all the

time, and of course, the pay wouldn’t be very good either.So, like some others who worked in

the park, he decided to sell plants on the sly, after smuggling them out from the Lalbagh

nurseries. A little palm-greasing made things easy and the rewards could be really good, at

times.

When the bonsai garden was set-up, Siddayya sensed a great opportunity, for he knew that

these plants would fetch an excellent price. So, he made sure that he was posted to the

Bonsai Garden, and showed a great interest in the plants. It helped his secret scheme that

theBonsai Garden was set up away from the public eye, near the lab that was attached to the

park. Not many visitors come there, and those who did showed little interest in the small

potted plants. Even Siddayya’s supervisor showed little interest- he had no idea of Bonsai, and

no clue of the value of the plants.

The plants were a gift from a wealthy, diligent gardener  – Sivappa – who had decided to move abroad. Sivappa lived in one of the big old bungalows in Basavanagudi. His father-who had been very fond of plants. He had started experimenting with Bonsai, and had soon accumulated a big collection. Sivappa -who had green thumbs- continued to expand the collection . Every year, he exhibited some of his plants at the Lalbagh Flower slows, and his plants inevitably won the first prize in their category. 

And so, when the time came for him to pack up his bags and move to the USA to join

his only son, the thought of what to do with his Bonsai collection troubled him considerably,

till at last, he decided to donate these plants to Lalbagh. He didn’t want to give them to his friends around Basavangudi for he was not sure that they would look after them properly.

Perhaps, he could get the Lalbagh people to name the collection after his father – that

would be a nice way to commemorate him! And so it was that the Ramappa bonsai collection

went to Lalbagh. 

There was a small ceremony, a painted board that read “The Ramappa bonsai collection” , and in the line below “donated by Sivappa”, was put up. 

Sivappa was gratified, and flew away to the USA, happy in the thought that his beloved plants had found an excellent home.

Siddayya  knew how valuable these plants were. He also figured out where he could sell these

plants- there were many big nurseries around Lalbagh, and some of his friends from the

Horticultural School worked there. All he had to do to re-connect with them was to go on

Facebook. Even if they knew nothing else about computers, they were all on Facebook. It was a terrific thing he thought, and now he could connect with his friends using Kannada, he. didn’t have to use English.Now, all he had to do was to figure out a way to smuggle the plants out of the park. He didn’t own a motor-cycle, or even a bicycle. This was a problem that wasn’t easy to solve.

Not many people visited the Bonsai garden, and the authorities were indifferent to this area of the park anyway. So no one would notice if he managed to smuggle out a plant or two. And if he managed to sell these at even half their real value, he would be able to easily buy that colour TV he had been longing for. There could even be some money left over for a bicycle, he thought.

But first, he had to get his plans absolutely clear, and he would have to take the plants out

one by one, and at intervals, so that no one would notice what was happening. 

He would begin with what he thought was the cheapest plant in the collection, he decided. Next he had to figure out how he could take the plant out. A sack, or a back-pack, he thought, should do the job. So, he bought himself a cheap back-pack and began taking it regularly to work.His colleagues teased him about it, but he didn’t mind. He was happy that they had got used to the idea that he would now always be seen with a back-pack.

Once he had managed to put plant into his backpack, he had to find a way to take the plant out. This was easier than he thought. He had made a detailed survey of the compound wall wall of Lalbagh, and spotted the places where the wall had caved in. The rains had been heavy that year, so it was no surprise that there were gaps in the wall. And given the usual laxity in the management of the park, it would be years before these were fixed. There was a particularly big gap in the wall on the western side of the park, near where the metro track runs, and it was this that Siddayya had in mind.

His first theft was a success – no one even noticed the absence of the plant, which he had skilfully put into his backpack, which he had then dropped outside the park through the gap in the wall, where he had a friend waiting for him. He had no difficulty in selling the plant, either, to one of the many nurseries around the park. Of course, he had to share the proceeds with the friend who had helped him, but he didn’t mind. There was a lot of money to be made if he played his cards right, he thought.

He would invoke the preta – the ghost – who was reputed to wander around his village, back in Malnad. Not that he believed in ghosts, but in case anyone asked him about missing plants, he would tell them about the ghost that haunted the temple in his village, suitably transplanting that entity to Lalbagh. And as the Wilson Garden cemetery was close by, just outside the gates of the park, it would be easy enough to spread the story of the ghost.

He began to tell his fellow – gardeners about how he had been waylaid by a ghost, one full-moon night, as he was leaving Lalbagh.  The lady ghost, he said had come floating towards him, dressed all in white as ghosts are wont to do,  and made him go back to the bonsai garden, and forced him to pick up a plant, take it with him and throw it out as he left Lalbagh. He did not know why the ghost made him do this, he said. Perhaps, he said, the ghost felt the pain of the plant in having to be so tortured to become this stunted bonsai version of  itself. Maybe she couldn’t pick up the pot herself, he said. And she had probably chosen him, as he was the one who was in charge of looking after the bonsai plants. And then, once he had thrown the pot away , the ghost vanished, he said. 

The gardeners who heard him could believe that torture theory – almost all of them had a deep fondness for plants, and it was always painful for them to have to constantly trim a growing plant. And they had all met women who had this special empathy with plants. So , the woman ghost theory took hold.

Siddayya  told a good story, with shrieks and calculated silences, bringing in all that he had heard about ghosts in his village, and it was not difficult to get  the audience to believe him. To people who didn’t believe him, he showed them the empty spot where the pot that he had stolen had once been kept. 

The pattern had been set, and the groundwork established. So, Siddayya’s ghost began to take away the plants., one by one.  Practically every other fortnight, the ghost would make its presence felt, and a small potted plant would disappear, till finally, only the bigger ones, those planted in the ground were left.  Of course, Siddayya was careful enough to not be very regular with his ‘takeout’ program.  There were full-moon nights that he skipped, so as to not warrant too much suspicion among his superiors. Of his fellow gardeners, he had no fears – they would not suspect anything.

Siddayya’s earnings increased substantially, and he could finally buy everything that he wanted – that coveted TV, that refrigerator and all the things that made living easier. When the time came for him to get married, he thought, all that he would ask as dowry would be a motor-cycle. Everything else had been organised, he felt. 

That summer, he went on leave, to his ooru, where his parents had found a match for him. He agreed to get married, but first, he said he had to go to the temple garden in the night, and seek permission from the preta who had helped him so much.