It was the 27th of July when the doctor told my mum about my arrival in the world and for some reason she was struck dumb.

That was precisely the day when it was said that a woman in white occasionally seen just down our street, was said to lead passersby, unknowingly to their untimely deaths. How, my mum thought, could she avoid commuting on that day as she had done for so many years, ever since the ghostly apparition first appeared.

For some years, at least till it was not completely developed, the area around Lal Kothi or more popularly known as Nursery, was said to be the favourite pickup spot of a woman wearing all white. Whether this superstition came from a real life incident of a murderous hitchhiker or whether it was a figment of someone’s imagination, no one knows to date; but my mum never really saw the apparition.

I was born a few days later. Celebrating Halloween in our part of the world is a recent eventuality and probably just another reason to party. The tradition of 31st Oct holds meaning to the West mainly because of their history of pagan practices, witchcraft and a whole era of witch-hunts that plagued Europe, Britain and the US. The idea and superstitions behind the young and even their elders dressing up as ghouls and goblins is to scare away the real ones as it is believed they descend an earth on the last moon of October. They carve a scary face into a pumpkin, setting it outside their homes in the same attempt.

The number of scary stories we have to tell here in the subcontinent should qualify us to celebrate our very own ghostly day! Every Nani or Dadi has her very own traditional ghost story to unravel before her eager audience of grandchildren. Some of these spine-chilling tit bits have practically become family heirlooms that are passed down generations. One such grandma once told her horror-hungry little one about the time she was sleeping next to an open widow. At the time Nazimabad was nothing more than barren grassland dotted with a few homes. They heard the clang clang of camel bells each night as travellers passed in caravans around their house. The grandma, on that particular night, heard another sound similar to that of a “paazeb” worn by village women in those soon-after-partition days. A woman with her face covered carrying a thaal appeared close to the window alarming the granny to a sitting position. Speaking in a high-pitched, nasal voice she claimed to be carrying food from a neighbouring house where a death had taken place, and in those days things to eat were distributed at such an event. She also said that they should open the lock on the front door so she could come in and put the thaal down. Grandma, who was young and alert at the time, smelt something fishy and ordered her to leave immediately and after a brief argument the mysterious night traveller tinkled her way out into the dark. According to the grandmother, she had been saved from being possessed that day.

Amidst the great cinema halls of this city one might have noticed a number of crumbly old houses that no one seems to occupy. There is a strong suspicion among locals that within the heart of Sadder and ironically next to the hustle and bustle of the liveliest part of Karachi are a few homes that can never be owned or demolished. Not by humans at least. It is said that whenever someone tries to live in these abodes the worst kind of events took place and the same can be said of each time demolition is attempted

What is the reason behind, how the eerie events take place, what strange things have people noticed, all remains a mystery but it certainly is enough to give you goosebumps and the shivers and the thought that you really don’t want to know for real.