Today after my early morning laundry, I visited the famous/infamous Rengstorff Mansion that stands on Shoreline Blvd. in Mountain View, California. Last weekend, I decided to do some research on any possible strange places locally, and came across the Pioneer Park and the Rengstorff Mansion. I did not find anything documented about the Park other than the fact that it is built on a Graveyard where most of the Pioneers/early settlers are buried. So next time, you’re there - you might be walking on someone’s grave!

But, my real interest was in the Rengstorff Mansion, the oldest building in Mountain View, which was built by the early settler, Henry Rengstorff. He built the 12 room Victorian Italianate style mansion around 1867 in 164 acres. After reading about the house and the unexplained events that happened there during 1950s-1970s, my curiousity was aroused and I decided to go check it out.

The Mansion lies about 2 miles from Google Headquarters in Mountain View. As one heads North on Shoreline, the road becomes narrow and starts to curve towards left (East). As the office buildings fade away, Shoreline Golf Links area comes in sight. The Mansion lies on the East side where the road dead ends. It is surrounded by trees, winds and silence (especially early in the morning). There is a windmill in the back and picket fence circles around to the right. I had some chills, but mostly due to the eerie environment and the absolute silence that prevailed during the early morning with nothing but the sound of the winds brushing across the old trees.

Given below are the most well-known incidents about the House and the incidents that took place here.

Stories as told by residents of the house

Things seemed to have been fine until after the last descendants of the Rengstorff family left the house in the 1959. At that date, Perry Askam, a famous opera singer and descendant of the Rengstorff family, sold the house to a land development company. For 20 years the house went through a variety of owners and residents. The era between 1959 and 1979 is believed to be time period when the house was most well know for the strange things that occurred within it. Former residents of the house have often been willing to tell their stories.

The following stories were taken from “You are Now Entering Mountain View,” a collection of short writings about Mountain View done by students of Old Mountain View High in 1976. The Rengstorff Mansion chapter was written by Ann Tamaru and Pat Catolico, who interviewed the Crump family, the last residents of the mansion.

~The Crumps said that they often heard the sound of a non existent baby crying at night and the sounds of something walking up and down the house’s narrow staircase.  During the night the Crumps would be awakened by the sound of a child crying but investigations could never find the source.

~When the Crumps were out, there friends once dropped by, and when they knocked on the empty house’s door, its doorknob turned by itself.

~An old Mexican man used to walk by the house as a short cut to get to the nearby dumps. When the Crumps moved into the house he asked for permission to walk through the property. He also told Mr. Crump the story of a young woman with long dark hair that he often would see staring out of the houses large bay windows.

~At one time, Psychic Sylvia Brown was called in to investigate. She had several psychic impressions of what had happened in the house. One was of a man who had been strangled in a second floor bedroom for his money. Another was of an angry crippled man bound to a wheelchair after loosing one leg in a farming accident, the other crippled with arthritis. Neither of these events could be tied to the house through the stories handed down by the family. Most intriguing is the story of the secret attic room. One day Mr. Crump was putting a hook in a closet, the wall board slipped a bit and a previously covered up stairway was exposed. Mr. Crump removed the loose board and walked up the cobweb filled staircase. At the end of it he found a “secret room” that only had a hospital bed with leather restraint cuffs on it.

Sources of the Stories above:
http://members.aol.com/GCSP/hauntedmv.htm
http://www.hauntedbay.com/features/rengstorff.shtml

Photos from my visit: Click here for the Photo collection.

He was one of the foremost Urdu Poets during the Progressive Writers Movement in and around 1930s and was a contemporary of noted Poets like Jigar Moradabadi, Firaq Gorakhpuri, Jan Nisar Akhtar, Sahir Ludhianvi and Asgar Gondavi. I hadn’t read much of Majaaz until recently when I found a copy of the TV show “Kahkashaan” that was shown on Indian Television in early 1990s. As the story goes, he fell in love with a married woman from Delhi’s high society and by the time he left Delhi, his heart was reduced to nothing. After having multiple nervous breakdowns and attempting to come back to normal, he finally met his end on a bitter cold night in Lucknow when some friends left him in a tavern after a night of drinking and poetry recital. He died alone (some say due to  cold) that night on 5th of December 1955 in Lucknow. Part of Lucknow died with him that night and Urdu Poetry suffered a huge vacuum, never to be filled again.

Here are some verses from one of his lachrymose Ghazals. Also taken is an excerpt from the TV show Kahkashaan in Jagjit Singh’s voice. Here is the MP3.

Ai Gam e Dil Kya Karoon, one of Majaz’s creations has been sung by many generations of singers, with the most popular version by Talat Mahmood. Majaaz’s sister was married to Jan Nisar Akhtar (his son is Javed Akhtar), another master Shayar from that era.

It’s been chilly here in Mountain View for last few days (just the kind of weather I like). After almost more than a year of being immersed in the world of Urdu Poetry and Hindi Songs, I wrote something in English yesterday late afternoon and decided to give it a test run today. Wouldn’t really call it a song, but just a folk poem with some melody to it. Here is the MP3. Once again it came out of a conversation between me and The Old Man.

And me and the Old man, we sat down by the ragged old rest house on that narrow mountain path and I asked him…

Words:

Is she a dream or a story?
Is she a star in the sky?
“No, she’s a maid(‘en)”, he told me
So, said the old man with a smile

Pray – won’t you say, won’t you tell me
Tale of the Maiden of the night
“Yes, she’s a song, she’s a memory”
So, sang the old man with a sigh

“Scarred as the moon, all alone like the tree
When the birds have all gone away
Still there she waits in the valley
With hope and a tear in her eyes

Call her a dream or a story
She’s in my heart, on my mind
O’ Maid of the night, of the valley
Say it’s been worth every mile”
And so, said the old man with a smile.

Gautam Dhar
11th October 2008
Mountain View, CA

Recorded this using my Classical Guitar

Lyrics:

I know that I won’t forget you
For I’ve loved you too much for too long
Though you don’t want me now
I’ll still love you
’til the breath in my body has gone

That’s how it is with me
And you’ll always be
The only love i ever knew
I’ll forget many things in my life time
But my darling i won’t forget you

That’s how it is with me
And you’ll always be
The only love i ever knew
I’ll forget many things in my life time
But my darling i won’t forget you.

Lyrics:

It’s a lesson too late for the learnin’
Made of sand, made of sand
In the wink of an eye my soul is turnin’
In your hand, in your hand.

Are you going away with no word of farewell?
Will there be not a trace left behind?
Well, I could have loved you better,
Didn’t mean to be unkind.
You know that was the last thing on my mind.

You’ve got reasons a-plenty for goin’.
This I know, this I know.
For the weeds have been steadily growin’.
Please don’t go, please don’t go.

As I lie in my bed in the mornin’,
Without you, without you.
Every song in my breast dies a bornin’,
Without you, without you.

Below are the meanings of somewhat uncommon words for those of you not that familiar with Urdu.
Also recorded a rough recitation accompanied by some random plucking for those who can’t read Hindi.

This Nazm is somewhat drawn out of frequent suicides by Farmers (in Maharashtra and elsewhere) in India who end their lives out of sheer desperation and helplessness. I had written a Ghazal on a similar note back in 2006 called Uske Maathe Ki Lakeeron Me.

Here is a quick recitation I recorded at Charleston Park around 6:30 in the morning today for those who can’t read Hindi.

I started writing this Nazm one late night last week and finished it couple days later. Hadn’t had time to write anything since Sargoshiyan, which was another ‘past-midnight’ composition. I had no intention of turning this Nazm into a song, but I found a raw tune on my laptop I’d recorded somewhere back in February in Lansing, so decided to try it out and the tune fit fairly well.

Just a first rendition I recorded this afternoon. My Guitar was buzzing unusually high, so excuse the extra twangs and buzzing in the song. Comments and criticism both welcome Here is the MP3. Click on the play button below to check it out.

Notes:

Muntazir: One who waits
Maiassar: Possible (Munaasib)

Wo Jo Shayar Tha is another superb Nazm by Gulzar Sahab. I have a few of his books, and noted it down a couple months ago. I related to this one very closely and it’s a personal favorite of mine. Enjoy reading.

Romanized form:

Wo jo shayar tha, chup sa rehta tha
Behki behki si baatein karta tha
Ankho kaano pe rakh ke sunta tha
Goongi khamoshiyon ki awaazein

Jamaa karta tha chaand ki
Geeli geeli se noor ki boondein
Ok me bhar ke khadkhadata tha
Rookhe rookhe se raat ke patte

Waqt ke is ghanere jungle me
Kache pakke se lamhe chunta tha
Haan wohi wo ajeeb sa shayar
Raat ko uth ke kohniyon ke bal
Chaand ki thodi chooma karta tha

Chand se gir ke mar gaya hai wo
Log kehte hain Khudkushi kee hai.