Uninvited

Until the summer of 2008, my knowledge about German concentration camps, constructed during World War-II, was very minimal. On my 20th birthday, one of my friends gifted with a DVD on which the cover picture had an illustration of a pair of hands, gripping each other.  The name of the movie was ‘Schindler’s List’. For the course of the next two weeks, I had watched and re-watched the movie countless times, oblivious to the fact that it was made by one of my favorite directors, Steven Spielberg (I had watched ‘War of the Worlds’ a year back; it was fantastic). The movie was my first ‘reel’ exposure to human suffering in those camps.

Fast forward to 2015, I received a scholarship that allowed me to traverse four countries-Germany, the Balkans (Albania), Italy, and France. Since I was the first person to cross the sea in my family, I couldn’t be any happier. My first destination was Munich (the title of another Spielberg’s classic), and I had three complete days to explore the city. Out of all the things I wanted to do (according to the priority list) I wanted to visit Dachau-the site of the first concentration camp set up by the Nazis. I had already booked a hotel nearby.

The Unfortunates

ARBEIT MACHT FREI (Work makes one free) were the words inscribed on the iron archway that welcomed me to the Dachau camp. It was a massive place with behemoth pillars all around it. Schutzstaffel or SS, a paramilitary organisation under the Nazis had exclusive control over all the concentration camps. Out of curiosity, I had a quick look at the top to check if there were any ‘soldiers’ keeping a tab on me. None. I stood right at the place where the SS ordered the Jews to stand in a queue before entering the camp. From here, the latter used to bid a tearful goodbye to freedom and life. One step inside the camp and I could feel the dark vibes engulfing me. On the right side of the compound stood a series of solitary confinement cells. Much of the interiors were kept in their original conditions: walls had a two-tone design of white and ochre, one ventilation with grills, a toilet, an iron gate, and, eventually, a heavy door with an inspection window. A single cell was opened for the tourists to enter and ‘experience the apathy’. The walls bore nail-marks with ambiguous writings. The heavy door had marks, probably from an iron rod used for roll call.

Something Odd

I couldn’t spend much time inside those solitary cells. It was depressing. I quickly made my way out of it. While I was uncertain about where I should proceed next, one man, who went inside the cell after me, began throwing up abnormally. I offered him some water while his wife took the camera bag from him and let him rest on the ground. He said he was fine in the morning and had no signs of any illness. Before he could complete his sentence, all of a sudden, another tourist started to vomit. This seemed odd to me. We called for the Doctors and they guided the two men out of the camp.

Once this was over, I made my way through the barracks towards ‘Gas Chambers’ on a long gravel road with beautiful pine trees adorning the sidewalks. If not in Dachau this would have been a pleasant thoroughfare for morning and evening walks. 82 years ago, Jews considered this track as the ‘last walk’ before the SS fed them into the toxic chambers, or worse, in the incinerator. I was walking behind a middle-aged couple. The husband was pointing towards a Jewish memorial—to his wife—at the other end of the boulevard. While I was focused on the memorial, out of nowhere, I could hear a sudden ‘thud’, as if someone had just struck something heavy. I saw the husband lying flat on his back, clasping his forehead. “There is nothing here. How did I get knocked out of nowhere?” he said as he frantically raised his hands in the air to grasp onto something. His wife was as perplexed as I was. There was nothing on the road. It was a gravel path with no big rocks to trip on. I sensed something was amiss. Even though it was serene, the atmosphere of the camp was a far cry from normal: no birds flying by, no animals, not even the usual chirping of crickets. I quickly toured the Gas-chamber and crematoria along with the ‘garden’, where the tree still stands on which the SS soldiers hanged the Jews till death.

Uncalled for

The path to my hotel was a short walk on a cobbled street. The brisk autumn wind in Munich reminded me of the fresh air of my hometown just after a storm. The time was just over a quarter past five. The reception area of the hotel was weird. It had heads of a—wolf, fallow deer with their huge antler, bear, water-buffalo—mounted on the wall. There was no one on the counter. I walked into my room and transferred all the pictures to my laptop. I jotted down the bizarre events of the day in my diary. The air was heavy and so were my thoughts. Each thing led to another, and it was already half-past ten. I quickly glanced through the window. Except for a dim flickering light at the entrance of a car repair shop, it was pitch dark all around. I set my alarm for the next day, pulled up the cuddly white blanket, and promptly went into a deep slumber.

Something woke me up. It was a humming noise—weird and disturbing. If it wasn’t for the night, nobody would have heard it. And before I could guess the noise, a warm breath rushed over my earlobe. My legs were ice cold. I figured it was a dream, but my eyes were hollow, looking towards the window, while my entire body was completely numb. With a sudden jerk, I pulled the blankets over my head. Fear had consumed me quickly. I tried to recall whether I had closed the doors, or if someone followed me to my hotel. I couldn’t figure out what was going on in the room. There was a deluge of sweat as a result of anxiety. This time I could hear a loud thump on the floor. The wooden flooring just amplified that eerie sound. It grew louder and louder as it approached me. As I cowered deep under the sheet, something was trying to tug it hard from the other end. Slipping one hand out of the blanket, I turned on the light. The moment the light blinked, everything fell dead-silent. There was no noise, no bang, and no pulling of the blanket. I turned, still inside my hideout, scanning for my mobile phone. It was exactly four o’clock. I remained in that position until I saw the morning light shine through the window, putting an end to a night of terror. I pulled my blanket away and looked around. Nothing was awry. Promptly gathering my luggage, I went downstairs towards that weird reception area. There was still not a single soul to be seen. As I had already made the payment through an online portal, I dropped my keys there with a note: Checking Out! I walked outside the hotel and breathed in the crisp morning air to calm down my nerves. For the last time, I turned to look at the window of my room, and when I did, a dark amorphous shadow standing at the glass window—presumably staring at me—quickly passed out of the sight and went into the room. Not wasting any more time, I re-positioned my backpack and headed towards the Munich Central Station—the Hauptbahnhof.