I went to Duduka, in the Balangir district, that summer with my grandmother to attend a wedding. The village streets felt alive, filled with the loud rhythm of drums and people dancing throughout the day. It was a typical village wedding—crowded, noisy, and full of conversations and laughter that seemed to flow endlessly without reason.
I was playing with my cousins when a woman entered the house. At first, nothing about her seemed unusual. But then, she lifted a heavy bucket of water with surprising ease. The way she walked began to change—firm, almost like a man’s stride—and her voice shifted into a strange, unfamiliar accent. Soon, she started giggling uncontrollably, clapping her hands, and asking for money in a tone that didn’t feel like her own.
The women of the household quickly intervened and took her inside. Later, I learned that her facial expressions had completely changed, and her voice had deepened into that of a man. A guniya was called, who performed rituals to free her from whatever had taken over. Despite all the efforts, she missed the entire wedding.
That night, my grandmother held me tightly. She warned me not to touch anything or anyone, her voice filled with fear. She was terrified that whatever had happened to that woman might find its way to me as well.
**Disclaimer:
These stories are real experiences shared by participants of the #TellMeABhootaGappa campaign. Many more such untold horror stories are available in the Bhoota Gappa book series—explore the collection at BhootaGappa.com. All rights reserved. Do not reproduce, adapt, or create reels/videos from this content without the author’s permission.
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