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  Celts in Ancient France 800 BCE. It was the Iron Age for the Celts who then resided around modern-day Austria. During this time they began to spread all over Europe. Certain groups immigrated amply to modern France. As per Roman history, Gaul which encompassed France was home to more than five dozen distinct Celtic groups. The Celts formed a tribal agricultural society headed by landlords. They recognized more than 300 gods and goddesses. Their religious and cultural leaders were druids who were gifted healers. Some Celts had an aristocratic warrior lineage. Then there was the intellectual class of druids, judges, jurists, priests, teachers, poets etc. They lived in round houses with walls of daub and wattle with thatched roofs. The benches in their cottages doubled as beds. They used low-lying tables. Both animals and family members slept in these homes together. The purpose of this arrangement was that all of them were safe from robbers and predatory animals at night. ...

  When haughty sceptics listen to paranormal stories... Our family friend had a sixth sense for the paranormal. He didn’t share his stories with those who’d shame him as a liar. He’d ask in a deep voice before narrating his tales, “Do you believe in ghosts?” When I am invalidated and mocked for witnessing and hearing shadowy creatures which tread my home, I am hurt. Mashi has experienced them as well. https://pixabay.com/photos/ghosts-spooky-ghostly-horror-souls-572038/ : Image by  Mystic Art Design  from  Pixabay  

  “I am thirsty...” Grandpa’s friend was posted in an arid region of India. It was a very different landscape from the dewy green Himalayan foothills. Here the parched earth was puckering in summer under the cloudless sky. The sun glared mercilessly drying the water bodies. As the mercury rose, groundwater sank lower, and wells ran dry. Yet, women in colourful Indian ghagra cholis [pretty embroidered skirts and blouses dappled with colours] and jingling bangles would throw in their pails as deep as the longest rope could sink in. Sadly, there wasn’t a drop to drink. They returned forlorn with their dry pails and pitchers. Summer had set in there in post-colonial India. The star-spangled sky shined silver after dusk. Our acquaintance while under his blanket which guarded him against cold summer nights, would hear the musical clanging of bangles. Days were scorching and nights had an eerie chill in this semi-desert area. After a week of the tinkling of bangles, he decided to ...

  Breakfast with a mysterious stranger It was the 1950s decade in post-colonial India. Most Britishers had left Indian turf for England. Their colonial bungalows had been taken over by the upper middle class and rich Indians who sent their kids to elite English medium schools. A family friend who was living and working in a hill station which was a coveted residential hub of the British would have breakfast at a quaint Himalayan restaurant. English breakfast was served there. Our acquaintance was sitting alone at a table for two. He saw that the table spot opposite him was laid with impeccably styled British breakfast with two well-cooked eggs, toast, butter, jam, tomatoes, baked beans, bacon and sausages. The napkin was neatly folded next to the plate. There was a cup of steaming freshly brewed mountain tea, but it was getting cold. Our friend whose curiosity had been piqued for days on seeing breakfast being laid but nobody to stomach it for a week asked the waiter, “When...

Lunchtime ghost Ghosts usually make their creepy crawly entry at various times of the night. If I were a ghost, I'd come to vex people exactly at noon. I’d expect a mid-day meal to be ready for me. What would I have done if I haunted a house in a country where there were 24 hours of night in winter? I'd hibernate. https://pixabay.com/illustrations/generated-cabin-witch-house-house-7611939/ : Image by  Jean-Louis SERVAIS  from  Pixabay  

  THE MASTER [By Rabindranath Tagore]   I am, today, Kanai Master; The student is my kitten. (I just show him the stick, Mom, I promise, he never gets beaten.) Everyday he arrives late, He pays me no attention, He lifts his leg and yawns, Much as I exhort, “Listen!”   Day in, and day out he plays Away from studies he stays. I say, “A E I O U” He only says, “Miu, miu!”   First Part pages open, Lessons I try to imbue – “Never you steal any food; Like Gopal, be good and true!” Nothing I say works any, Nothing goes through those ears… The moment he sees a fish Every lesson disappears   If ever flies in a sparrow He shoots out like an arrow. I stick to, “A E I O U” The rogue just says, “Miu, miu!”   I tell him again and again “Study time means one studies. Once you finish your lessons, go ahead, play with your buddies.” He pulls an innocent face, He peeks at me askew His expression seems to sa...