Like his food habits, Trigunatita's actions and behavior were unusual and sometimes not understandable to others. He had indomitable energy and was undaunted by any situation. He was skeptical about the existence of ghosts; he had visited a number of haunted houses and found nothing to substantiate claims of ghostly inhabitants. This aroused in him a determination to see a ghost, should one really exist. Someone told him about an old empty house near Baranagore Monastery where he could see a ghost at midnight. Without telling anyone, Trigunatita went there before midnight and waited for the ghost. Suddenly he saw a faint light appear in the corner of the room. The light grew brighter until, in the center of the light, there appeared an eye. It approached him with deadly malevolence. The swami felt his blood dry up in his veins and his body wither like a green tree before a forest fire in the sinister light of that eye. He was about to faint, when all of a sudden Sri Ramakrishna appeared. Holding his hand, the Master said: "My child, why are you so foolishly taking chances with certain death? It is sufficient for you to keep your mind fixed on me." With those words, the Master disappeared. Trigunatita's spirit at once revived and he left the house, his curiosity about ghosts satisfied forever.
The ghost story i enjoy the most is Unadhikakritamkritam ("what has been done is too little, too much, and not done at all") from the Penguin Book of Indian Ghost Stories. Maximum heebie-jeebies per page! It goes as follows: (pp. 1-3)
Underdone, overdone, undone!Here's wishing you a happy Halloween.
There was once a Brahman called Kritakrita ("Done and not done") who neglected the study of the Wedas, and walked in the black path, abandoning all his duties, and associating with gamblers, harlots, and outcasts. And he frequented the cemeteries at night, and became familiar with ghosts and vampires and dead bodies, and impure and unholy rites and incantations. And one night, amid the flaming of funeral pyres and the reek of burning corpses, a certain vampire of his acquaintance said to him: "I am hungry: bring me fresh meat to devour, or I will tear you to pieces." Then Kritakrita said: "I will bring it, but not for nothing. What will you give me for it?" The vampire replied: "Bring me a newly slain Brahmin, and I will teach you a spell for raising the dead." But Kritakrita said: "That is not enough." And they haggled in the cemetery about the price. At last that abandoned Brahmin said: "Throw me a pair of dice that will enable me always to win at play, and I will bring you the flesh you require." So the vampire said: "Be it so." Then Kritakrita went away, and knowing no other resource secretly murdered his own brother, and brought him to the cemetery at midnight. And the vampire kept his word, giving him the dice, and teaching him the spell.
Then some time afterwards, Kritakrita said to himself: "I will try the efficacy of this spell that the vampire has taught me." So he procured the body of a dead Chandala, and taking it at the dead of night to the cemetery, placed it on the ground, and began to recite the spell. But when he had got halfway through, he looked at the corpse, and saw its left arm, and leg, and eye moving horribly with life, the other half being still dead. And he was so terrified at the sight, that he utterly forgot the rest of the spell, and leaped up and ran away. But the corpse jumped up also, and a vampire entered its dead half, and it rushed rapidly after him, shuffling on one leg, and rolling its one eye, and yelling indistinctly: "Underdone, overdone, undone!" But Kritakrita fled at full speed to his house, and getting into bed lay there trembling. And after a while he fell asleep. And then suddenly he awoke, hearing a noise, and he looked and saw the door open, and the corpse of that dead Chandala came in, and shuffled swiftly towards him on its left leg, rolling its left eye, with its dead half hanging down beside it, and crying in a terrible voice: "Underdone, overdone, undone." And Kritakrita sprang out of bed, and ran out by another door, and mounting a horse, fled as fast as he could to another city a great way off.
And there he thought: "Here I am safe." So he went day after day to the gambling hall, and played with his dice, won great sums of money, and lived at his ease, feasting himself and others. But one night, when he was sitting among the gamblers in the gambling hall, throwing the dice, he heard behind him a noise of shuffling. And he looked around, and saw, coming swiftly towards him on one leg, the corpse of that dead Chandala, with its dead half rotting and hanging down, and its left eye rolling in anger, and calling out in a voice of thunder: "Underdone, overdone, undone." And he rose up with a shriek, and leaped over the table, and fled away by an opposite door and left that city, and ran as fast as he could, constantly looking behind him through the forest for many days and nights, never daring to stop even to take his breath, till he reached another city a long way off. And there he remained, disguised and concealed, as it were. But all the gamblers in that gambling saloon died of fear.
And after some time he again accumulated wealth by gambling in that city, and lived in extravagance at his ease. But one night, when he was sitting with a courtesan whom he loved, in the inner room of her house, he heard the noise of shuffling. And he looked around, and saw once more the corpse of that dead Chandala coming swiftly towards him on one leg, with its dead half, from whose bones the flesh had rotted away, hanging down, and its left eye blazing with flames of rage, calling out with a voice like the scream of Rawana: "Underdone, overdone, undone." Then that woman then and there abandoned the body in her terror. And Kritakrita rose up, and ran out by a door, which led out upon the balcony, while the Chandala hastened after him. And finding no other outlet, Kritakrita flung himself down into the street, and was dashed to pieces, and died.