Not surprisingly, the dead spirits of a yesteryear Bengali movie siren, a British koi- hai kind of burrasahib, a Kargil war hero, to name just a few, see an eternity of going up and down the escalators at some shiny new mall as a fate worse than death. In this year’s Bengali sleeper hit, Bhooter Bhavishyat, a mansion-full of assorted ghosts in Kolkata confront that very real prospect of eviction when a property developer sets his greedy sights on the grand old building they call home. In signing the death warrant of our houses we have rendered the ghosts homeless. But petnis and brahmodaityas can’t haunt marigolds. Apartments only have room for potted marigolds and money plants. When our ancestral home in Kolkata was torn down, I remember asking my mother if we could at least save the neem tree. They require public space that has the right balance of habitation and desolation. They need sturdy mature trees – neem, bel and ponds choked with moss. They need rooms, preferably with high ceilings, and secluded nooks. The ghost in Talaash is lucky. Image from IBN-Live We just don’t have room in a modern city of 750 sq feet 2BHK apartments for entire spectral family trees anymore. They take on familiar voices and call people by their names in the dead of night and lead them away, never to be seen again. The Skondhokatas, the headless ghosts of people who died in train accidents, sound terrifying but because they don’t have heads, you can trick them easily. Mechhobhoots like fish (not surprising since these are Bengali ghosts). Brahmodoityas are the ghosts of Brahmins and might bless you or curse you, depending on their mood. Petnis wear saris and lure men away from home and hearth. In traditional Bengali folklore, for example, there are shaankchunnis, the ghosts of women unlucky in love. That’s not because we have become a more scientifically rational country but because we literally have less and less space for them. Ghosts feel terribly old-fashioned in our new India. Talaash is not a "universal film" because it has a "supernatural element" says Aamir Khan. In a city that is notorious for moving on with merciless unsentimentality, time has had the grace to pause for her, so she can roam Mumbai’s noir-ish streets as if it was yesterday once more. Her old haunts have not been bulldozed into malls and multiplexes. The lonely beach where she’s buried has not been turned into some ghastly beachfront promenade with a Café Coffee Day and trident lighting. She can linger at the seedy brothel where her madam still runs a brisk business. She can sashay into the hotel where she once took her more upmarket clients. For those who have not watched Talaash yet, this story contains spoilers.)
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