Divya 
The air in D’Souza Chawl carried a strange heaviness, a whisper of something unseen. On humid Mumbai nights, residents swore they heard footsteps echoing through the narrow corridors. But whenever they turned, there was nothing. Nothing but the damp walls and flickering lights.
One name always accompanied these tales: Maria, The woman in white.
The Tragic Tale of Maria
Decades ago, before D’Souza Chawl became infamous, it was a peaceful dwelling for working-class families. Maria was one of those kind-hearted woman in her early thirties who lived with her husband, Anthony. She was well-loved, always seen helping neighbors, feeding stray dogs, and humming old Goan melodies as she went about her day. But her life was marred by sorrow.
Maria and Anthony were childless, and her husband, bitter and drunk most nights, often accused her of being cursed. The fights grew louder. Neighbors heard the crashing of furniture, the muffled sobs. Until one night, Maria disappeared.
The chawl awoke to chilling news: Maria had fallen into the well. Some said she slipped in a moment of despair. Others whispered she had been pushed. Anthony vanished soon after, leaving nothing but speculation in his wake.
The well was sealed, but Maria never left.
Encounters with the Dead
For years, the residents of D’Souza Chawl spoke of eerie happenings. Late at night, shadows danced against walls where no one stood. A chilling draft would rush through rooms, despite the humid Mumbai air. The most terrifying encounters, however, were with the woman in white.
Roshan, a teenager who often returned late from work, once saw her. He was unlocking his door when he noticed a woman standing at the end of the corridor. She wore a white saree, her long hair falling over her face. Thinking it was an old neighbor, he called, “Aunty, you need help?”
The figure turned. Her face was pale, her eyes hollow. And then she vanished.
Roshan never walked those corridors alone again.
Old Mrs. Fernandes had a similar tale. She woke up one night to softly cry outside her window. When she peered out, she saw a woman standing near the well, her back turned. The sobs grew louder, turning into a heart-wrenching wail. And then silence. The next morning, nothing was there. But the ground near the well was wet, as if someone had been standing there all night.
The Skeptic’s Test
Ajay was new to the chawl. A university student, he dismissed ghost stories as nonsense.
“Superstition,” he scoffed. “It’s just old pipes creaking. Wind. Nothing else.”
One evening, he set out to prove his point. Armed with his phone flashlight, he walked down the dimly lit corridor at midnight. His plan? Go near the well, where Maria had died, and spend a few minutes alone.
As he approached, the temperature dropped. A faint scent of damp earth filled the air. He ignored the goosebumps creeping up his arms.
“Maria?” he joked, tapping the side of the well. “If you’re here, show yourself.”
Silence. Then—
The sound of anklets. Soft. Rhythmic. Coming closer.
Ajay’s bravado faded. His breath hitched. He turned around.
A figure in white stood a few feet away, her face obscured by her hair. The anklets stopped.
The air grew dense, pressing against his chest. He staggered back, his flashlight flickering. And then—she lifted her head.
Ajay ran. He didn’t stop until he was inside his room, locking the door behind him.
He never mocked the ghost again.
Maria’s presence lingered, her story whispered through the walls of D’Souza Chawl. Some claimed she was searching for justice. Others believed she was trapped, reliving her tragic fate. Whatever the truth, one thing remained certain: when night fell, Maria walked the corridors.
And if you listened closely, you could still hear her anklets in the dark.
To Be Continued…
Stay tuned and keep reading Dip Dives for Episode 3, where we’ll discuss the deeper mysteries of the chawl and the secrets that lie buried within its walls.
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