Every GET somehow begins with a story, and this one decided to start before I had even reached the meeting point.
The plan was perfect.
I left home at around 6:45 a.m., my Uber was on time, and according to the map I was supposed to reach McDonald's, Kalamboli, comfortably before 8 a.m. I was already imagining grabbing a coffee before everyone arrived.
Then my cab driver, completely engrossed in a voice call, missed the route.
I didn't notice immediately. I was too busy looking out of the window and mentally preparing for the trip. When I finally looked at the map, my heart dropped.
We weren't heading towards McDonald's.
We were heading towards the railway station.
I remember blurting out, "Bhaiya... we're going the wrong way!"
He immediately apologised and turned the car around, but by then it was already 8 a.m. The meeting time. My phone buzzed with messages asking where I was, while the navigation calmly informed me that I was still another 15 to 20 minutes away.
That sinking feeling settled in my stomach.
Great. I'm late before the trip has even started.
I quickly texted the group, letting them know what had happened and that I'd be there in another fifteen to twenty minutes. The moment the familiar golden arches of McDonald's finally came into view, I think I felt more relieved than I had all week.
The chaos was over.
The adventure, thankfully, was just beginning.
Early Morning sleepy faces, bags thrown into cars, cups of coffee clutched like lifelines, and that familiar mix of excitement and curiosity hanging in the air. Some faces are already familiar from previous GETs. Others are complete strangers. We exchange awkward smiles, quick introductions, and within minutes the silence starts dissolving into conversations that somehow feel effortless.
The road to Mahabaleshwar stretches ahead of us, wrapped in monsoon mist.
Somewhere along the journey, we stop at Royal Darbar for lunch. The food was good, but what stays with me isn't what's on the plate. It's the conversations happening across the table. Stories about previous investigations. First-timers' curious eyes. Laughter loud enough to make people at the next table glance over. By the time lunch ends, nobody really feels like a stranger anymore.
That is one thing I have always loved about Ghost Encounters Tours. Before they take you into haunted places, they somehow make sure you're surrounded by people who already feel safe.
It is also impossible to ignore how thoughtfully everything is planned. From transportation and comfortable stays to every meal throughout the trip, everything is taken care of. You simply arrive with curiosity, and the rest unfolds around you. Considering everything that's included, the experience feels incredibly well put together, leaving you free to focus on what you actually came for.
By afternoon, we finally reach Gurusparsh Resort, our home for the next couple of days.
The property surprises me.
Instead of basic accommodation, we're welcomed into a beautiful five-star resort with spacious rooms shared on a twin-sharing basis. I open the curtains to my room and freeze for a second.
An entire valley stretches out in front of me.
Clouds drift so low they almost brush the hillsides. A waterfall slices through the greenery in the distance. Somewhere below, I hear the constant rush of a river. The air smells of wet earth and rain-soaked leaves. I don't even feel like touching my phone.
I just stand there.
Sometimes silence is enough.
After a few hours of rest, we gather for the official orientation and head towards our first location, Chakwa Point.
Before anyone begins taking psychic readings, we're taught something far more important.
Grounding and Shielding.
Learning to quiet the noise in our own minds before trying to sense anything beyond them.
Then we begin.
Each of us walks quietly, observing the surroundings without discussing what we're sensing. No hints. No leading questions. Just trusting whatever impressions arise naturally.
Once the session concludes, we make our way toward one of the most magical surprises of the trip.
A reverse waterfall.
If you've never seen one during the monsoon, it's difficult to explain. The wind is so powerful that instead of the water falling downward, it shoots back into the sky in shimmering white streams. Tiny droplets sting my face as the breeze pushes against us. Everyone is laughing. Cameras are forgotten for a while because simply standing there feels enough.
For a few minutes, none of us are investigators.
We're just children again.
Some people stretch out their arms. Others run into the mist. Someone shouts in excitement as another burst of water flies upward. I can actually feel myself relaxing, like something heavy inside me quietly lets go.
That simple moment somehow brings everyone even closer together.
Back at the resort, we change into dry clothes before gathering for evening snacks. Hot tea. Fresh coffee. Crispy kanda bhaji. The kind of comfort food that tastes even better after getting drenched in mountain rain.
As evening settles in, we all gather inside Pooja Di and Sarba's villa.
Now comes the part everyone waits for.
Sharing our readings.
Usually, participants are divided into smaller groups depending on the total number attending. This time, we had fifteen participants divided into three groups of five. One by one, every group discusses what they sensed before any historical information about the location is revealed.
And that's where things become fascinating.
People who had never spoken to one another during the exercise begin describing remarkably similar impressions.
Different words.
Different perspectives.
The same core experiences.
One particular reading stays with me.
While walking around Chakwa Point, I couldn't shake the feeling that a temple held great significance there. More than that, I kept sensing people being compelled to bow their heads, almost as though paying respect wasn't optional but expected.
At that moment, I knew nothing about Chakwa Point. I didn't know its stories or local beliefs.
Later, when the history of the place was discussed, I discovered that the temple indeed played a central role in the site's significance.
That realization sent a quiet shiver through me.
Not because it felt supernatural, but because moments like these remind me that perception is far more complex than we often allow ourselves to believe.
It was my seventh or eighth GET by then, and I've gradually watched my own intuitive abilities evolve. What fascinates me even more, though, is watching first-time participants. Many arrive convinced they aren't psychic in any way.
Then they experience their first reading.
Maybe they don't see vivid visions.
Maybe they don't hear voices.
But almost everyone senses something.
A feeling.
A pull.
A sudden emotion that doesn't seem to belong to them.
For many people, that's where the journey truly begins.
The day winds down with dinner, but nobody is ready to call it a night.
Soon enough, everyone gathers back at the villa.
Out comes the UNO deck.
If you've attended a GET, you'll know this isn't an ordinary game of UNO.
This is psychological warfare disguised as a card game.
People bluff. People celebrate too early. Alliances form and collapse within minutes. Every Draw Four card is treated like a personal betrayal. The room echoes with laughter loud enough to make your stomach hurt.
And then come the punishments.
This time, they involve painfully sour candy paired with sour gel.
Watching someone confidently accept the challenge before instantly regretting every life decision is entertainment in its purest form.
By the time I finally return to my room that night, the valley outside has disappeared into darkness.
The sound of the river is still there.
So is the laughter echoing in my head.
Day One doesn't end with fear.
It ends with friendship.
And somehow, that makes the investigations waiting ahead feel even more meaningful.
The second morning begins long before my body decides it's awake.
At 8 a.m., we're already making our way back toward the same route we had explored the previous evening. The monsoon has transformed everything overnight. Leaves drip steadily onto the muddy trail, the smell of damp earth hangs thick in the air, and the forest feels quieter than it should. Even the birds seem hesitant.
Somewhere near the reverse waterfall lies a part of the jungle that hasn't really been explored.
The moment we step inside, something changes.
The laughter dies down on its own. Nobody tells us to stay quiet, yet everyone instinctively lowers their voice. My shoulders feel heavier. The air is colder here, but not because of the rain. It feels dense, almost as if we're walking through something invisible.
I keep catching movement from the corner of my eye. A shadow slips behind a tree. Someone standing just beyond my vision. Every time I turn to cross check, there's nothing.
Yet the feeling refuses to leave.
As always, we split into groups and begin taking psychic readings without discussing anything among ourselves. The silence is broken only by footsteps sinking into wet soil and the occasional crack of a branch somewhere deeper in the woods.
The readings come quickly.
Stronger than any of us expected.
One moment from that morning still refuses to leave me.
As I stand still, trying to quiet my thoughts, an image flashes into my mind. I see what feels like a ritual. Dark. Deliberate. Someone performing an act that doesn't belong in a peaceful forest. I hold onto it as a psychic reading.
Then, barely five minutes later, I find what I saw in my psychic vision actually there.
The remnants are lying right there.
The aftermath of the very ritual I had just seen.
I stop walking.
For a second, my mind struggles to connect what I saw in a vision is now directly in front of me. A chill runs through me that has nothing to do with the mountain air.
Across the psychic session, similar experiences begin unfolding.
People describe sensing figures moving between trees. Others feel watched. Some experience sudden emotional shifts that don't seem to belong to them.
Then there's Jainil Bhaiya.
At one point, his smartwatch records his heart rate climbing to 147 beats per minute before dropping dramatically to 56 within seconds. Nobody had been running. Nobody had done anything physically demanding enough to explain it.
The forest leaves us with more questions than answers.
And strangely, that's exactly why we're here.
One of my favourite moments from the second morning wasn't even part of the investigation.
After finishing our psychic reading session, we walked a little further until the trees slowly opened up to reveal a cliff-top viewpoint.
The moment I stepped out, I forgot every thought that had been running through my mind.
An endless valley stretched out before us, wrapped in layers of mist. The wind rushed towards us without warning, cold enough to make me pull my jacket a little tighter. It carried the scent of rain, wet grass, and the forest below. Nobody spoke for a few moments. We simply stood there, letting the silence say everything.
Then someone quietly pointed towards the sky.
A rainbow.
Not faint. Not hidden behind clouds. A beautiful arc of colour stretching across the valley, glowing against the grey monsoon sky.
It felt almost unreal.
Only a little while earlier, we had been standing inside a forest that felt heavy, mysterious, and emotionally draining. Now, here we were, surrounded by fresh mountain air, watching sunlight break through the clouds just enough to paint the sky.
It was one of those rare moments that cannot be planned or recreated.
Back at Gurusparsh Resort, breakfast feels unusually comforting.
Hot food after hours in the rain somehow tastes better. Conversations begin cautiously as everyone tries to process what they experienced. Some people are excited. Some are confused. Others are simply quiet.
Soon we're back at the villa for the reading discussion.
One by one, everyone shares what they sensed.
When I describe the ritual I had seen before discovering its remains, one of the participants who was from Maharashtra nods almost immediately. They explain that what I had witnessed aligns with rituals still practiced in certain parts of Maharashtra.
Validation never feels like winning.
It feels unsettling.
Because it means the experience wasn't simply imagined.
The afternoon takes a completely different turn.
Pooja Di gathers us for one of the most fascinating sessions of the weekend.
Instead of asking the outside world for answers we were looking for, we're asked to ask ourselves.
Using a body-swaying technique, we allow our subconscious to respond through movement. Every participant establishes what "yes" and "no" feel like through gentle shifts of the body. Mine chooses its own directions naturally, without me consciously trying to control it.
I had done this session before as well when I had gone to the Mega GET.
Yet everytime I do it, It feels strange. Seeing what we ourselves are capable of but ignore due to our conditional learning.
Am I holding myself back?
Is there something I already know but refuse to accept?
My body answers before my mind does.
The realization settles quietly inside me.
Sometimes the hardest truths aren't hidden from us. We're simply too distracted to hear them.
With a few hours left before the main investigation, a small group of us decides to explore Waterfall near the property.
The trek itself isn't difficult. The leeches, however, had other plans.
One scream echoes through the trail. Then another.
Within seconds everyone is checking shoes, socks, and ankles.
What makes me smile now isn't the panic. It's what happens during it.
Someone notices a leech attached to another participant and immediately rushes to help, completely forgetting the one climbing onto their own shoe. Another person starts laughing through the fear while helping remove leeches from everyone else before checking themselves.
Nobody says, "Help me first."
Everyone instinctively says, "Are you okay?"
Somehow, a handful of tiny leeches become one of the strongest reminders of why I keep returning to GETs.
We arrived as strangers.
But somewhere between investigations, shared meals, rainy hikes, and moments like these, we quietly become a team.
After lunch, the atmosphere shifts once again.
It's finally time for the investigation everyone has been waiting for.
The Demon House.
I've been there before. And that's almost more unsettling than visiting it for the first time.
Because this place remembers exactly where your fears live.
The rain refuses to stop as we approach the property. Water drips steadily from the leaking roof. The walls smell of age, moisture, and abandonment. Every room feels colder than the last.
Nothing, however, prepared me for stepping into the Demon House.
I've investigated this location before, but that almost makes it more unsettling. The house never feels familiar. It feels like it remembers you.
Before the actual investigation begins, we spend time taking independent psychic readings. No discussion. No influencing each other's thoughts. Just walking through the property and allowing whatever impressions arise to come naturally.
The moment I enter, I start feeling things I can't ignore.
It begins with light touches.
A brush against my arm. Then another near my leg.
As I move further inside, a strong, unpleasant smell suddenly fills the air. It isn't constant. It appears suddenly and disappears just as quickly, leaving me wondering whether I imagined it.
Then I climb the stairs.
The instant my foot reaches the first floor, I hear it.
A voice.
Clear enough that it makes me stop walking.
"Welcome back."
It isn't loud.
It isn't aggressive.
It's almost calm.
But it feels as though someone had leaned close enough to whisper directly into my ear. For a few seconds, I simply stand there, trying to convince myself I hadn't actually heard it.
The readings continue becoming more intense. Images begin flashing through my mind. I see people being held against their will. Someone's head being struck repeatedly. A body dragged across the staircase.
At the same time, a sharp pain spreads across my own back. It doesn't feel like I've injured myself. Instead, it feels as though I'm momentarily tuning into someone else's suffering. The sensation lasts only a short while, but it's vivid enough that I instinctively reach behind me.
One particular area outside the house keeps pulling my attention.
A small shed. Every time I try to focus elsewhere, my thoughts return to it.
It feels important. I can't explain why.
Later, while standing near a staircase window, another feeling washes over me.
I look outside.
For one brief moment, a thought enters my mind.
Jump.
The thought is so sudden and so unlike anything I would normally think that it startles me immediately.
It doesn't feel like my own emotion.
It feels intrusive.
Almost as though something is trying to place the idea inside my mind rather than it originating from me.
I step away from the window almost instinctively.
Among the other impressions I receive are flashes of English men forcing their way into the property and assaulting those inside. Like many psychic impressions, they arrive as fragmented scenes rather than complete stories, leaving more questions than answers.
Once everyone has completed their individual readings, the real investigation begins.
Each investigation group takes turns entering the room the investigation was to take place while the others wait in separate rooms.
Our group has to wait first.
Oddly enough, the waiting room becomes an experience of its own.
The atmosphere inside feels unnaturally heavy. Several of us quietly admit that the room almost feels as though it doesn't want us there. Cold gusts repeatedly sweep through the room without warning. They arrive in sudden bursts, disappearing as quickly as they come.
One participant, someone who had confidently mentioned that he almost never feels cold, begins visibly shivering. Eventually, he has to step outside simply to warm himself up.
What makes the experience stranger is the contrast.
Outside, despite the rain, everything still feels comparatively normal and day like.
Inside, the darkness seems to deepen with every passing minute.
Finally, it's our turn.
Our investigation begins where the previous group had left off. We use equipment including the Dead Bell, Alice Box, TriField Meter, Mel-Meter, and later a Spirit Box. The Dead Bell remains placed at the centre while the other devices rotate between participants. In our group of five, the Alice Box starts with me before being passed around, allowing everyone the opportunity to observe and participate.
One question keeps repeating in my mind.
The shed.
I can't stop thinking about it.
When the opportunity comes, I ask whether the shed outside the house is connected to whatever occurred within the property. I also ask whether something, or someone, is buried there.
Almost immediately, we receive responses through both the Dead Bell and the Alice Box.
For me, that moment is the most chilling part of the entire investigation.
Not because it proves anything conclusively, but because it aligns so closely with the reading I had received earlier without any prior discussion.
The investigation continues with more intelligent responses through the equipment, making the atmosphere inside the room feel increasingly intense.
Before concluding, we conduct a short Spirit Box session.
The AM frequencies fill the silence with bursts of static.
Then, through the noise, a voice.
Female.
Clear enough that several of us react at almost the same time.
Throughout the session, multiple participants report sensing movement around the room. Some notice fleeting apparitions in their peripheral vision. Others feel someone standing just beyond arm's reach.
One moment, however, stands out because every member of our group experiences it almost simultaneously.
A tall, black figure.
Nobody says anything immediately. But while discussing our reading we all confirmed and almost everyone saw that figure.
Whether these moments can be explained through psychology, environmental factors, coincidence, or something beyond our current understanding is a question every reader is free to answer for themselves.
All I can honestly say is this.
The Demon House never gives the same experience twice.
But every single visit leaves me with more questions than when I walked in.
Even participants experiencing the Demon House for the first time can feel the atmosphere changing around them. I watch expressions shift from curiosity to disbelief as the investigation unfolds.
By the time we return to the resort, dinner feels well earned.
Warm food.
Warm conversations.
And, naturally...
UNO.
At this point, UNO has become an unofficial GET ritual.
No one plays gently.
People loudly accuse each other of hiding Draw Four cards. The person sitting with one card somehow becomes everyone's common enemy. Someone dramatically announces they're definitely going to win. Thirty seconds later, they're drawing half the deck. The room erupts with laughter.
Outside, the rain continues tapping against the windows while inside, as adults we argue passionately over UNOl cards as though world peace depends on the outcome.
Those moments are just as memorable as the investigations. Because fear may bring people together. Laughter is what makes them stay.
The next morning arrives far too quickly.
Suitcases appear in hallways.
Phones come out for one final round of photographs. Group pictures become candid pictures, which become funny pictures, which somehow become twenty more photographs because nobody wants to leave just yet.
Breakfast is slower. Nobody is in a hurry anymore.
Goodbyes never feel like endings at GET.
They're simply conversations paused until the next investigation.
As I leave Mahabaleshwar, I realize this weekend wasn't only about haunted locations, psychic readings, or mysterious experiences. It was about rediscovering a quieter version of myself.
Somewhere between mist-covered valleys, midnight investigations, impossible readings, endless UNO games, leech attacks, and cups of hot tea shared with people who no longer felt like strangers, I found something I wasn't actively searching for.
Peace.
That is what Ghost Encounters Tours has always been for me.
Not just a paranormal investigation.
A place where I return, different from the person who arrived.