That beautiful sound woke him; the beautiful sound of ringing payals. It was only his instinct to follow it. Follow her. The girl with the misty eyes and a walk as delicate as the jasmine that was incense to the air that night. She led him, her own way, out of the cottage and into the forest. Lost in her sandalwood scented hair, he could do nothing but follow, as if hypnotized by the magician he followed. A magician named Sonjodha.
Around the heat of the glowing light, a story lingered in the air. The story teller, an old man, known by the name of Biju Bhaiya stared intensely into the fire as he began, his listeners staring with the same intensity, but at the man, the man old enough to be their father.
“It was around seventeen years ago. At the step of the hill, in the village of Rakhet lived a girl. The daughter of the village chief, they say, was very beautiful and was in the hearts of every man in the village, married of not. One of them was a mason by the name of Rajkamal. Arrogant as he was, Rajkamal would do anything he could to gain the village beauty. When she would be out in the fields, he would follow her, always trying to make conversation. The girl, not knowing the bad intentions of her new acquaintance, befriended him, which led them to spending a lot of time together. In that time, the mason managed to gain her trust and he took her into the forest. There he did things to her. Things I would be ashamed to mention. After he was done with her, he hit her in the head with a boulder and threw her into the well.”
A long silence followed those last words.
Sonjodha led him, deeper and deeper into the forest, showing no sign of her destination. To question her sense of direction was not a possibility for him. Not a possibility because he was mesmerized by her beauty. Out of all the women he had eyed, which was a ridiculous number, she was the most beautiful he had laid his eyes on. They didn’t stop. Didn’t stop, until they reached their destination. The well.
“You sahibs are from the city and I know you do not believe in these things but it is true. I am old, but my hearing is exceptional, sir.”
“Hearing? What things?” asked one of the men.
Biju Bhaiya hesitated, unsure whether he should continue. The thought of it haunted him.
“She is still there, sahib. Still out there. She wanders around; in the village, the forest, also in the valleys, sir. In the nighttime, when all the lights are out, she wakes, the sound of her payals the only sound below the moonlight. She senses for her next pray, the next man. She leads them into the forest and what happened to her happens to them. The spirit of the girl hunts. The spirit of Sonjodha hunts the Black Hearts.”
This is my first piece. Please comment. Also, a payal is an anklet with heeps of tiny bell on it.
