"Beyond the bounds of life and death, my friend awaits my arrival..."

Dusk had arrived at the horizon of the sky. It shaded the clouds in a bronze colour akin to a woman's bangle. The last sunlight of the day filtered through them with a vivid brightness, heralding the end of yet another day in the placid Nishikantopur.

Fireflies buzzed as darkness took the reins from the sun. The long shadows of the trees grew distorted with each passing moment, giving the semblance of men made of shadows, feeding the imagination of the youngsters. No one walked through the village's meandering paths. The womenfolk lit lamps to bid welcome to their husbands returning home. Save for the chimes of the temple bells and the choirs of the insects, no other sound broke the tranquil ambience.

From the verandah of the zamindar house, the mistress of Nishikantopur watched the eventide settle upon her land. She, seated on a swing, looked at it all with apt attention, the tune of a song on her lips. The verandah had drowned in the gloaming. Despite the servants placing tiny earthen lamps on its balustrade, it remained dark. Dark like the ebony tresses of its lady.

Up in the heavens, the moon rose. It was a mere crescent in the silken surface of the night sky, but its glow was nothing lesser than its fuller counterpart. Around it rose the first stars of the night, little flickers of light compared to the penumbral moon. Too far away were they from this world for their magnificence to be wholly appreciated.

Her fingers played with the fur of a black kitten resting on her lap while her lips moved without ceasing, humming the tune of that song. The pupils of her eyes glinted in the reflected glow of the moon.

"You reside in the skies of my heart, covered in the light of my love..."

Golden bangles jingled against each other as she sang, a song so close to her soul that it was as if the song did not emanate from her lips but from every pore of her body. Her doe-shaped eyes were fixated on the dark sky. Far away in her visage, she could see the gust of breeze flutter the tops of the trees of the forest that bordered Nishikantopur.

On her lap, the cat meowed in comfort, curling its paws around its head. Its mistress's soft thighs covered with the ochre of the silk saree were indeed a very comfortable bed. The feline huddled even closer; the warmth derived from its mistress was a cocoon of safety.

"Drowning in ecstasy, I raise my hands skywards, in hopes of acceptance. The silent night sleeps-"

Her tune stopped midway as her ears caught the telltale sound of anklets. With the gait of a swan, she turned her elegant neck and found a woman clad in a cream saree emerging from the lightened interiors, onto the open of the dark verandah. She smiled at once at her sight.

"A wonderful time you have come, Priyamvada."

"I hope that the news I bring was just as wonderful," said the latter. "Though I shall not spoil this moment by blurting it out. Rather, I would like to ask you, why do you sing this song so often?"

"I like it."

"Nothing is as simple as that, Lalita." Priyamvada settled beside her friend on the suspended swing. "Its tune must mean something to you. Else why keep repeating and again?"

"It does. Yes, it does," Lalita nodded. "I imagine the day I will die when I sing this song." She laughed, causing the cat on her lap to raise its tiny head in alarm. It was a peal of bittersweet laughter.

Priyamvada frowned. "Do you need such frequent reminders of that day? I know what ought to happen must happen, but to think about it all the time is not good."

"It is better to accept the truth and learn to embrace it rather than living in denial." Lalita said, her eyes a river of sparkles. "Also, I had been jesting. I think not only of my death when I sing this song. It reminds me of a story that didi told me when I was younger."

"What story?"

Lalita leaned against the seat of the swing and took a deep breath before starting. "It is the tale of a king. A mad king in words of those who came after him. Many thousand years ago, he ruled Egypt."

"He was born with a different name, but called himself Akhnaton. A name designed after the deity to whom he had dedicated his life. Aten." She continued. Her voice was little more than a whisper, yet even the buzz of the fireflies seemed to have stopped to listen to her words. "I think of him when I sing this song. A man surrounded by unimaginable opulence, but detached from its effects. A sanyasi raja. An ascetic who became king."

"Is this a true story or a product of Nalini's ever wandering mind?" Priyamvada asked with a hand under her chin. "It sounds like a fairytale."

"Didi had said it is no fairytale, but a true story. Is it so difficult that a man can have such conflicting facets to his personality?" Lalita asked.

Neither spoke for the next few moments. It was not an uncomfortable silence, but one filled with contemplation. Priyamvada's query had trudged into a nook where memories ran amok. Elsewhere hooted an owl out on its hunt early.

Lalita turned to look at her friend after the short interval. "Were you not supposed to tell me something?"

"Yes."

"What is it?"

Priyamvada's face paled like the colour of her garment. "They are sending a few of their men to investigate the death of Frederick Clarkson. An officer called Colin Silverthorne is to lead this investigation."

"Oh. Is that it?"

"They want us to accommodate those men."

Lalita tucked a single strand of hair behind her ears. "Fine, we do that. When did this message come, though?"

"A few moments ago. The postmaster gave the letter to Kumudini."

"And where is Kumudini?"

"In her room. She was furious and asked me to tell everyone to not disturb her."

"Her usual problem." Lalita shook her head in dismay. "There is nothing to be so angry about."

Priyamvada shifted uncomfortably beside her. "Are you not perplexed?" Her eyes were wide with an undercurrent of fear.

"No. Why should I be?" Lalita answered. "I have committed no crime. Let them come. Let them enjoy our hospitality. I am sure that they will return empty-handed."

"But-"

"Do not be so doubtful. If you maintain this kind of composure, how will you face the investigators?"

With that, Lalita rose from the swing. Taking the sleeping kitten in her arms, she left the verandah, the end of her saree swishing against the cool marble floor.

Alone in the rapidly descending dark sat Priyamvada, her heart throbbing in her chest. Fear choked her throat. She was sure she could not utter a word even if she wished to.

Something terrible would happen, and she was sure of it.

~•~

The forest surrounding Nishikantopur always appeared darker than the lands beyond it. Its thickets cast such gigantic shadows that it became close to impossible to see things when evening fell.

Even during broad daylight, many complained about a perpetual gloom that hung over that place, giving birth to feelings of desolation in the hearts of those who ventured there. The residents braced the opinion that there lived vicious creatures who swept from the thickets and ate men for food.

Nishikantopur's name fitted it well - it was a land that darkness loved.

Very few used the forest path after nightfall. Foolhardy were those people termed by the residents of the hamlet. Usually, it would be empty and quiet. But not that night. A small entourage of men with flaming torches trudged along that path. There was a palanquin in between them.

"Walk fast, you fools!"

The man at the head of the entourage screamed at the ones behind him. Dressed in a white kurta and dhoti, it was a face the hamlet knew well. For it belonged to the wealthy moneylender Abhay Babu who was returning home that night with his newly married wife.

Rather, his newly married third wife.

He was a man of short height and, although not obese, moved with some difficulty in that long dhoti. He tried to walk as fast as his feet and his garment would allow him to while the palanquin bearers and a few others trailed behind him.

The atmosphere was thick with fear. All tried to move as fast as they could so that the forest passed quicker. Abhay clutched an amulet which hung around his chest and prayed to all the deities whose names he could remember.

"It was a terrible idea to use this path," said one of the palanquin bearers to his mate. "Look how dark it is tonight and so quiet, too. What if something happens to us all?"

"Do not say such things," said the other. "Further, who are we to contradict what a rich man like him says? He would cut off half our wages if we disagreed with his decision."

"Yes, but that is if we make it out of here alive."

"What makes you say that?"

"You know-"

Before the man could complete what he was saying, a sudden gust of wind emanated through the gap between the trees that surrounded them from all four sides, blowing out all the torches. It left the entourage in complete darkness.

"Wha-t, what just happened? Oh my god, what is happening?" A palanquin bearer voiced his worry.

Abhay panicked. His heart thudded like a drum in his chest. He looked hither and thither but could not make out any of his men in the pitch black. It was so unnatural. Not even the light of the moon pierced this blanket of gloom.

A cloud of doom had descended on them all. Silence grappled them in its unrelenting claws. Suddenly, Abhay heard a soft rustle amongst the leaves of the trees above. It lasted for only a moment and after that, an ear-piercing scream sounded, that turned his blood cold.

It was the shout of one of the palanquin bearers.

Chaos erupted. Despite not being able to see, Abhay could hear the yells of the others as they ran and cries of pain as something invisible attacked them. Was it the dreadful thing that they all feared? Was this supposed to be the way this was to end? The stories turned out to be true after all.

Everything came to a standstill. All the noises, the screams, and the thump of footsteps were gone. It was as if everyone had disappeared. The air grew so thick with the malaise that he was having difficulty breathing.

"Do not go!" Abhay called out at the top of his lungs, his throat burning at the effort. "Do not go away! Please do not leave me alone."

Silence persisted. Then a feminine voice replied, "I would not leave you alone, Abhay Babu."

A chill ran down his spine. Warm tears ran down his cheeks like rivulets of blood. This was what his family warned him of ever since he could comprehend the meaning of danger. He was now a trapped animal. There was no one to save him from this doom.

"Would you not spare a look?"

Abhay could no longer hold it. Warmth ran down from in between his legs, drenching his dhoti wet. He tried to turn around but fell because of the darkness. He bruised his forehead and busted his lips. His mouth filled with blood as a few teeth came off his gums. Avoiding his gaze from resting upon the entity, he raised his arms and pleaded.

"Please, please, do not harm me. What have I done? I am an innocent man!"

"Then why do you not look at me?"

Believing that this was perhaps his only chance to escape from this trap, Abhay did what he was told. And then he screamed the loudest he ever screamed in his life. However, this wail for help was soon cut short as the sickening lurch of flesh parting with the bone sounded in the quiet forest.

From the clouds above, the moon peeked. It illuminated a horrible sight for Abhay Babu was no longer in the realm of the living. He lay motionless with the gaping eyes of a dead fish in a crimson pool of his blood. From his throat down to his navel was torn in half, his viscera piled beside his body like ribbons of various colours.

He had died alone. Torches lay astray beside him and everyone who accompanied him had vanished. They, on their way to escape, had toppled the palanquin over, the bride no longer in there. She had fled the scene. It was only him, the trees and the night that bore testimony to the viciousness.

The forces that ruled Nishikantopur claimed yet another life.

~•~