In Garo mythology, Chual Chhongal is a long-tongued monster dressed in light. He is associated with bright streaks in the night sky — large meteors, rather than everyday shooting stars — which are believed to cause blight to crops.

Chual Chhongal is a thief of souls, not just of people but of things. During the harvest, he tries to steal the spirit or essence of paddy. Farmers tie knots in the stalks to prevent this.

He is propitiated once a year at harvest time.

Christalina was a young and very beautiful woman who lived in the village of Saligão, Goa in the Estado Português da Índia during the 19th century. She married a wealthy man who worked for a trading company. Shortly after marriage, her husband left for Mumbai on what was supposed to be a temporary assignment. But he got delayed there for weeks, and then months, and then years, leaving his wife alone in a large bungalow.

Christalina was a fun-loving type who made friends easily, and she refused to just sit around feeling bored and abandoned. She began hosting parties. Her house soon acquired a reputation for drunken revelry. She took lovers, and not just a few of them.

Then, one day, Christalina’s husband sent a letter saying he was coming back. The wording indicated that he had heard something about her behavior in his absence.

Christalina began to despair. She had become notorious all over town for her dalliances, and she knew that as soon as her husband returned he would learn everything. Fearing that he would kill her, she tried to convince some of her lovers to run away with her, but no one was willing.

Finally, feeling that she had no other recourse, she drowned herself in a well. Ever since, her spirit has haunted the banyan tree at the top of Saligão hill.

The Goan poet Joseph Furtado wrote the following poem about Christalina’s ghost and its shapeshifting abilities.

The Ghost of Saligão Hill
by Joseph Furtado (1872-1947)

Dong! Dong! Dong! Clear the Angelus
Is ringing down below.
“Ave Maria!” he exclaims,
“How slow the horses go!”

It is a cleric, young and hale,
So late returning home.
The cabman cracks his whip and makes
The horses fret and foam.

But fast the beasts they dare not go
So narrow and so steep
The road is, while the dell anear
Is dark and dangerous deep.