The car snaked its way through the busy streets. We were on our way to Humayun’s tomb, in Delhi. Suddenly our driver announced: “Hum paunch gaye!” (We’ve reached!) A huge structure loomed up in front of us. My first reaction was: “That’s the Taj!” My dad explained to me that Humayun’s tomb indeed looks quite like the famous Taj Mahal.

As we waited in queue to get in, I wondered what it would be like inside. I saw a huge pool of water that spread out into a network of canals. A group of friends were playing near the water, and, suddenly, one of them pushed a person into the pool. Then all of them jumped in! They splashed around until a security guard came over and ordered them out. I remember thinking: what a rowdy bunch!  

As we drew near the monument, I studied the carvings and wondered what life would have been like all those years ago. Soon I was lost in my own world…  

There were some massive trees behind me, and in front were some brilliant carvings. And the tombs, two of which caught my immediate attention. I walked towards them. It seemed as though the closer I got, the cooler the air became…  

Suddenly, a robed figure materialised out of the shadows and began walking towards me. The air grew colder. I began to feel a little scared. “Dad, is that you?” I shouted. A shiver ran up my spine as I stood there frozen. I wanted to scream but no noise came out of my mouth. I could only stare at the figure as it slowly walked towards me. One step… a second step… a third step…  

The air started to close in on me.  

I was just about to make a break for it when the silence was broken. “Wait!” The voice was a soft rasp; I could detect the effort he had put into the word. I froze in my tracks, stammering, “Who are you? What is your name?” The figure whispered: “Humayun.” “That can’t be!” I replied. He said: “I have been waiting for many years.” “Okay,” I said, a little more confidently, “how about if I test you on your own life?” I fired a round of questions at him as we walked along the tombs. “When did you regain control of your kingdom?” He didn’t hesitate for a moment, answering instantaneously: “Around 1555-6.” “Who ordered this monument to be built?” “My wife Hamida Banu Begum.”  

I decided to ask him some questions that even I didn’t know the answers to. Like, what style were the huge domes? And who had built the tomb? As if he had read my mind, he said: “The domes are built in the Persian style, and the person who built it was Mirak Mirza Ghyat.” “Who was your son?” I asked. He answered me before I had even finished asking the question. “None other than Akbar the great.”  

As we walked past a row of graves, I asked: “Whose tombs are these?” “These are the tombs of members of my family.” “Who did you have to fight to regain your kingdom?” “I believe it was that scoundrel Sher Shah Suri,” he replied.  

Then I saw my father approaching, screaming, “Vineet! Where are you?” I only had time for one last question. “How did you die,” I asked. I didn’t expect an answer. But he said coolly: “I fell down the steps of my library.”  

My father was getting closer. The next time he yelled out for me, I shouted back: “Dad! Come see this!” But when I turned around, the figure had disappeared just as mysteriously as it had appeared. “Where have you been?” my father asked. I replied: “Oh, just came back from a meeting.” 

(Vineet John is a student at the Bangkok Patana International School) 

InfoChange News & Features, April 2009