Beneath the Palm Tree

On a night devoid of moonlight, the atmosphere was peculiarly calm. The village of Shonarpur lay in slumber, enveloped in tranquility, interrupted only by the sporadic barking of distant stray dogs. Rajib had just departed from his friend Tanmoy’s residence after an extensive evening filled with conversation and card games. It was well past 2 AM, and although Tanmoy had invited him to stay overnight, Rajib politely refused. He harbored no fear of the darkness or the tales whispered by the villagers after dusk.

To expedite his journey home, Rajib opted for the back road—a narrow, meandering path that skirted the old cremation ground on the village's outskirts. This location had always been shunned after nightfall, not solely for the obvious reasons, but also due to the towering, desiccated palm tree that loomed beside it. The villagers claimed it had stood for over a century, its trunk scorched black by lightning many years prior. However, that was not the source of its notoriety.

It was rumored to be haunted.

Children who ventured too close returned in tears, the elderly recounted hearing voices nearby, and a few travelers had mysteriously vanished. Rajib, a man grounded in logic and modern education, dismissed such tales with laughter. He considered ghosts to be mere figments of imagination and superstition.

The path was faintly illuminated by the light of his phone. Crickets chirped, the wind whispered through the dry foliage, and Rajib walked with assuredness. Yet, as he approached the cremation ground, the ambiance shifted. The air grew denser and colder. Even the insects fell silent. A wave of discomfort washed over him, but he dismissed it.

Then he heard it.

“Raa-jii-b…”

A soft whisper. Gentle, almost like the breeze, yet unmistakable.

He halted. Turned around. No one was there. Just the vacant road extending behind him.

He paused for a moment, his heart rate quickening slightly. Then he nervously chuckled, “It must be my imagination,” he murmured, and continued on his way.

But the second time, the voice was more distinct. Closer. “Raaajiiib…”