Shimla ,PRENEETA SHARMA
The Queen of the Hills, Shimla, dons several masks. The one is of Sanjauli Bazaar, where a smile dies every midnight. A haunted story of a fruit seller who should have been long dead yet reappears with blazing red apples and empty eyes is the subject of uneasy whispers among the elderly.
This is the tale of Prem, Sanjauli’s fruit supplier, and the horrific incidents that still frighten even the most courageous people.
Sanjauli was calmer in the late 1990s than it is today. Located immediately above Shimla’s main town, it housed colleges, government buildings, and minor enterprises. Prem, a young fruit vendor who had a regular booth at the bend close to the Ridge Road, was one of them.
Prem was adored because he was constantly giving and smiling. Locals appreciated his honest commerce, and tourists adored his flawless apples. However, in twisted tales, benevolence is frequently a hazardous quality.
In an attempt to make a little more money from college students and last-minute visitors, Prem chose to leave his stand open later than normal one rainy October evening. Earlier that day, he was observed clashing with another vendor. He was dead before dawn; his body was discovered in the valley of the dead trees, far below the road.
Some referred to it as an accident. Others, particularly a chowkidar in the area, said that they heard a woman’s scream reverberating across the pine-forested hills. No lady was present. No eyewitness. No justification. Just be quiet.
Years passed along. The sadness of Prem’s death was buried. They took over his stall and subsequently closed it down.
However, in 2007, a shift occurred. Even during the snow-covered winters, late-night vehicles, particularly taxi drivers and residents returning from Sanjauli after late shifts, began to see a fruit kiosk once more, lit by a dull, flickering lamp.
A guy stood beneath that lamp, pallid and motionless, serving pomegranates and apples at midnight. He said in a low, somewhat robotic voice:
“New apples… Just a single mouthful.
He was disregarded by some. Others paused because they were fascinated by the odd spectacle, but they subsequently regretted it.
A local student stopped for an apple on the way back from a party. The following morning, he was discovered asleep and barefoot close to the Sanjauli cemetery road. The bite scars on his arms were human-looking, deep, and jagged, yet they weren’t from an animal.
There were whispers. And the old story started to take on a new form.
A competing fruit vendor that frequently battled with Prem was recalled by the old sellers. Although no complaint was brought, there were rumors that Prem was thrown down the cliff the night before he died after a dispute about prices, maybe even by that rival.
According to the villagers, Prem’s ghost is bound to that path by a curse.
He now only comes back to deliver his flawless, cursed apples to the lonely when the fog is heavy and the streets are deserted.
Keep this in mind if you come across him:
Never talk.
Never purchase.
Avoid making eye contact with him.
According to folklore, if you do, you will wake up where Prem died after having a dream about falling.
Locals have noticed a number of odd trends:
After midnight, phones in the vicinity of the stall cease functioning.
Even in freezing conditions, the lamp never emits any heat.
Even in warm weather, the fruits remain as icy as ice.
The stand vanishes by daybreak, and the merchant is not seen on CCTV.
Drivers and night watchmen now steer clear of the curve after midnight, particularly during the winter.
More than just a ghost story, Sanjauli’s Ghost Fruit Seller serves as a warning about treachery, greed, and the thin line between life and death in the Himalayan highlands.
Legends like this serve as a reminder that the dead never really go away, especially when injustice and grief bind them to the ground, as Shimla lies beneath the moon and fog.
Therefore, keep walking and bear in mind Prem the next time you visit Sanjauli after hours and notice a faint lantern glowing by itself.
