Charged with gusto of encountering a paranormal activity, I stayed at Savoy Hotel (Mussoorie), for a couple of days and nights as well, alone in my hotel room. This was in 1987, when I had gone to do my course in GIS and RS from IIRS Dehradun.
With adrenaline gushing in my veins, I had written a snippet then:
“Meeting the Ghost of Lady Ormsby/Miss Frances Garnett-Orme at the Mussoorie Savoy!
The Savoy haunting as portrayed by Agatha Christie in her first book, where the owner, Lady Ormsby, was murdered here via cyanide, and her murderer was never found.
In 1911, a Miss Frances Garnett-Orme, a 49-year-old spiritualist, came to stay with her companion from Lucknow, Miss Eva Mount Stephen, also a spiritualist who specialized in séances and crystal-gazing. One morning after Miss Mount Stephen has returned to Lucknow, Miss Frances was found mysteriously dead, an autopsy revealed that she’d was poisoned with prussic acid, a cyanide-based poison.
The murder was never solved and her doctor was also found dead a few months later, of strychnine poisoning. Miss Mount Stephen was later arrested for allegedly tampering with her friend’s bottle of sodium bicarbonate by adding prussic acid to it, though the court found her not guilty.”
The case later inspired Agatha Christie’s first novel-“The Mysterious Affair at Styles (1920)”.
Sure, you all want to know “what happened then” ??? “what is the climax of this incident”??????????????????????????????????????????
The outcome of my adventure into the beyond:
Well, I almost encountered the ghost of Lady Ormsby/Miss Frances Garnett-Orme !
One late afternoon, when I had just returned from ‘Sisters Market’ after buying Cheese (to take to D’doon), back then, the Nuns there, used to make good Cheese, I had a visitor….. an old withered lady, perhaps in her mid-eighties.
She was fair, very fair, may be one of the remnants of Brits who never returned to Britain, or an Anglo-Indian, perhaps. Her hair was all white under her woollen scarf, her knee length skirt was old, but of a warm, thick material. Over her stockings she wore knee and ankle support bandages, perhaps due to gout? Her flat soled shoes were worn, with the leather cracked and scratched and in desperate need of polish.
She peered closely at me, though her thick spectacles. I thought her pupils were a pale shade of blue? Then she gestured by waving her twisted knuckled fingers and making distant chops in the air, as if cutting off cobwebs of time and demanded to know (in impeccable English but in a voice which seemed to be echoing out of an old grinder) whether I was Madhu Singh? Daughter of Chandra Rani of Bastar?
Eeeks! I quivered to my bones, thinking that “this is it! – the paranormal”! or else how would she know my Mother’s name and maiden home? I managed to squeak a quivering ‘yes’, with my so called ‘gusto’ abandoning me suddenly, and running away from there, as fast as it could.
She then announced that she happened to be the mother of my Mother’s Governess named ‘Grace’, who was a Brit. This of course, I knew was true.
It all seemed so uncanny, with her surfacing suddenly and saying all true things and also tracing out my whereabouts!!! It’s been 27 years now, but the mystery remains unsolved!
Upon asking, my Mother said, she had lost contact with her Governess-Grace, after her marriage!
That very evening, I checked out of “Savoy” and made a hasty retreat to Dehradun!