Present Perfect and Other Demonic Possessions

Sabyasachi Roy

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A real disclaimer first: This piece is by a Bengali who has been haunted, or rather, it is a haunting in eleven tenses.

But, it always starts with the Present Perfect.

You’re sitting there, minding your own bilingual business, trying to say something simple like “I went to the market.” But then—whoosh!—you feel a cold wind pass through your keyboard. Your fingers twitch. Your cursor shudders. And suddenly your sentence has become: “I have gone to the market.”

You didn’t mean to summon it. But now it’s here.

Watching.

Judging.

Possessing.

But, as I see it, you need a demonstration for further clarification. Here: I was in class seven when it happened first time. This was a breezy attempt to write a paragraph titled, A Visit to My Uncle’s House. My intention was pure. Honest: I had gone. I had eaten. I had returned.

But the English teacher—a woman whose smile could freeze mustard oil—circled my sentence in red ink and wrote: “Use Present Perfect.” I had no idea what that meant. I thought it was some kind of compliment. Like, “Wow! Present! Perfect!” Like a birthday gift from grammar.

It was not.

It was a summoning.

From that moment, I have never been safe. Or rather, I had never been safe. Or wait—I have had never been safe? No. That’s… that’s how it begins.

So, it was well realized, the Present Perfect isn’t just a tense. It’s a psychological condition.

It wants you to feel vaguely guilty. Like you’ve done something, but not well enough. Or you’ve not done it, but almost. Or you’ve done it once, in 2004, and now you’re supposed to remember it during a visa interview.

I’ve been possessed mid-conversation, mid-interview, mid-romantic text. I once told a girl, “I have loved you.” And she replied, “Oh? Since when?” See? That’s the trap. The Present Perfect requires a timeline, but then refuses to respect it.

Try this at home:

Say “I have eaten.”

Now wait.

Someone will ask, “When?”

You will panic.

You will answer, “Just.”

They will say, “Just now?”

You will say, “No, just… generally.”

You will sound like a philosophical goat.

I’ve met other survivors.

There’s Ronu-da from Behala who claims the Past Perfect followed him home once after an IELTS class. He had said “I had went” and now he hears whispers every time he boils eggs. The whispers say: “It’s gone. Not went. Gone.” The eggs crack unevenly. Coincidence?

And Rita from Barasat—she was mid-presentation at her MNC when the Future Continuous got her. She meant to say “I will do it.” But something ancient and British took over her lungs and made her say, “I will be doing it.”

Her colleagues clapped. No one understood what she said, but it sounded expensive. That’s how the possession spreads.

Now, some of you may be thinking, “Is this real? Are you sure this isn’t just grammar confusion?”

To which I say: You sweet summer child.

Grammar confusion is when you forget if it’s “he” or “him.”

Demonic possession is when you write: “By the time I will reach, you will have already gone,” and then stare at the screen like you’ve committed a minor war crime.

At this point, I’d like to introduce you to my exorcist.

His name is Mr. Nigel—retired Cambridge examiner, current chain smoker, owns two umbrellas and a judgmental pug. He does freelance tense removals for Rs. 400 an hour and tea with two sugars. His method is simple: fear and flashcards.

Here’s a sample transcript from one of my early sessions:

EXORCISM LOG – CASE #345 (TENSED MALE, BENGALI FIRST LANGUAGE)

Nigel: Tell me what you did yesterday.

Me: I have gone to the cinema.

Nigel (slaps table): No! That’s Present Perfect. You are safe from that now. Try again.

Me: I went to the cinema.

Nigel: Good. Now say it while looking at this photo of Margaret Thatcher.

Me: What?

Nigel: Discipline, son.

Let’s talk about the Past Progressive.

A slippery spirit. Smells like damp tuition centers. Looks like homework you forgot to do.

It doesn’t scream or scratch like the Present Perfect. It lurks. It makes you say things like:

“I was going to call you, but…”

“I was thinking about applying, but…”

“I was just leaving when…”

Basically, it arms you with excuses. It’s the ghost of intention. Very popular in break-up texts and underwhelming cover letters.

My personal worst?

“I was preparing for UPSC.”

I was. Truly. For about seven minutes. Then I was sleeping. And then I was reconsidering life.

The Past Progressive is that polite little demon that gives you just enough grammar to lie with dignity.

Meanwhile, in the haunted grammar chamber…

Session 2: Nigel’s Basement of Tense Terrors

Nigel: Tell me about your future plans.

Me: I will become a writer.

Nigel: Good. Say more.

Me: I will be becoming a very famous one.

Nigel: That’s the Future Progressive. Get the holy oil.

Me: Mustard or coconut?

Nigel: Mustard. We are not savages.

You get the actual vibe, Right?

Now, what about Simple Present?

Ah. The one they never warn you about. The one lurking in everyday instructions.

The unassuming textbook ghoul.

Here’s how it gets you:

You’re writing a CV. You want to say you taught some children English. You write: “Teaches kids grammar and confidence.”

You sound like you are still doing it.

Even though you quit that NGO in 2017 after one child bit you over a misplaced comma.

Simple Present doesn’t care.

It freezes time.

You are forever teaching grammar to imaginary children.

But the Passive Voice—oh boy. That’s the real necromancer.

Passive Voice is what happens when you want to blame nobody and still sound intelligent.

“The glass was broken.”

“Results were delayed.”

“Promises were made.”

By whom? WHEN? Did the government do it? Did you do it? Did the dog do it?

Passive Voice is how politicians write Facebook posts. It’s also how I wrote my college break-up letter:

“Mistakes were made. Emotions were misunderstood. Moving on is advised.”

I wrote it.

But it wasn’t me writing it.

It was the ghost of bureaucratic detachment.

Session 3: Final Ritual – The Banishing of Perfect Continuous

Nigel: Describe something you’ve been doing for a long time.

Me: I have been writing English essays since school.

Nigel: Do you enjoy the activity?

Me: No, but I have been continuing.

Nigel: You’ve been continuing?

Me: I had been wanting to stop, but—

Nigel: ENOUGH! This is a compound infestation.

(Pulls out Wren & Martin, 1993 edition, hardbound.)

Me: Wait! What’s that smell?

Nigel: Mustard oil. For lubrication and cultural authenticity. Now bend over the metaphorical blackboard.

After three sessions, a mild rash, and a recurring nightmare about dangling participles, I was finally freed.

But the danger remains.

Because these are not ordinary tenses.

They are generational curses.

I have caught my mother saying, “You are not going until you have finished your food.”

That’s right.

She was possessed by the Present Perfect Future Conditional.

My aunt once said: “If you had studied, you would have been doctor by now.”

She doesn’t even speak English.

And yet—the haunting runs deep.

So if you’re reading this and you feel a shiver down your sentence, pause. Breathe. Check your verbs.

Did you write “I have completed the task”?

Why not just “I completed it”?

Who made you afraid of being done?

Is your CV full of “has managed,” “has coordinated,” “has developed cross-functional synergy in a collaborative environment”?

You’re not possessed.

You’ve just been to LinkedIn.

In conclusion: grammar is not just grammar.

It’s a haunted house where words wear tuxedos, but everyone’s secretly bleeding from the eyes.

And ESL speakers—we are the Ghostbusters, the Exorcists, the medium through which all these tenses try to find meaning.

Sometimes we survive.

Sometimes we go into the exam hall and write:

“I am been knowing the answer.”

And walk out with peace.

Not grammatical peace.

But spiritual.

P.S.: If this essay offended any ghosts of past grammar teachers—I’m sorry.

Or rather—I have been being sorry.

Since birth.

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Sabyasachi Roy is an academic writer, poet, artist, and photographer. His poetry has appeared in Viridine Literary, The Broken Spine, Stand, Poetry Salzburg Review, The Potomac, and more. He contributes craft essays to Authors Publish and has a cover image in Sanctuary Asia. His oil paintings have been published in The Hooghly Review. You can follow his writing on Matador here:
https://creators.matadornetwork.com/profile/e0x59k96/
Craft essays: https://sabyasachiroy.substack.com/

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Featured photo by Nithi Anand (Wikimedia Commons)