The Call of the Night Spirit

The Call of the Night Spirit:

It was past 1 a.m. Silence wrapped the village like a thick fog. Only the occasional howl of a jackal pierced the night. Through that stillness, a shadow of a woman in a black saree slowly glided past the old banyan tree.

Rana was still awake. He had just returned from the city after three long months. He came back after hearing his grandmother had fallen ill—but upon arrival, he learned she had passed away three days ago. The village didn’t feel the same. Fewer people, empty houses, and his own home felt oddly unfamiliar.

That night, sleep evaded Rana. He was staring blankly when he noticed a woman walking toward the banyan tree through the slit in the window. But her feet didn’t touch the ground—she was floating. Rana’s heart stopped. As he stared in shock, the woman suddenly turned around—her eyes were glowing red like embers. Rana tried to scream, but no sound came out. Cold sweat drenched his back.

The next morning, an old village woman said to Rana, “Did you look toward the banyan tree last night? Oh dear, if the Nishi calls you…”

Rana was confused. “What’s Nishi?”

She replied, “Long ago, a man murdered his wife and hung her from that tree. Since then, she returns on full moon nights. Whoever sees her—she calls to them. First in dreams, then in real life. And once they follow that call, they never come back…”

Rana tried to brush it off, but that night, he had a dream. The woman in black stood under the banyan tree, her hand reaching out. “Come… come to me…”

He woke up drenched in sweat. It was 3 a.m. A knock echoed on his door—tok… tok… tok…

Terrified, Rana opened the door—no one was there. But in the moonlight, he saw her again—standing beneath the tree, waving at him with a slow, ghostly hand.

Panicked, Rana ran to his brother-in-law’s house and told him everything. His brother-in-law said, “You’re not the first. Many have vanished after seeing her. We’ve called the village priest. He’ll perform a ritual tomorrow night.”

The next evening, the villagers gathered under the banyan tree. The priest lit a sacred fire and began chanting mantras. The tree seemed to tremble. Rana's chest tightened. Suddenly, a terrifying shriek echoed—“Set me free!”

From the tree, a smoky female figure emerged, her red eyes glowing. She stared at the fire and cried, “He betrayed me. I took revenge. But I found no peace…”

The priest asked, “Do you seek release?”

The spirit wept, “Yes…”

began chanting the Gayatri mantra, lighting a plate with sacred lamps and flowers. Slowly, the shadow drifted into the light and vanished.

Since that night, Rana never saw the woman again—not even in his dreams. The villagers whispered that, for the first time in years, no one had heard weeping under the banyan tree.

As Rana left the village to return to the city, he looked back one last time. The tree stood silently. Its leaves rustled in the wind. For a moment, it felt like someone was gently saying goodbye…

shadowy female figure emerged from the branches, her eyes burning. “He betrayed me. I took revenge. But I am still not free…”

“Do you seek release?” the priest asked.

“Yes…” she cried, tears of smoke running down her face.

The priest prepared a plate with sacred lamps, flowers, and holy ash. As he chanted, the spirit drifted toward the light. Slowly, gently, she disappeared.

From that night on, no one ever heard weeping near the banyan tree again. No shadows moved, no dreams disturbed sleep.