Rajmahal

In the fall of 1951, when the air was crisp and dry, four university friends - Arif, Samia, Babesh and Narayan - sparked an unusual adventure. They had heard them whispering an abandoned palace called Rajmahal, hidden deep in the forests of Nadia in West Bengal. As soon as the great wealth was ruled by the powerful Zaminer, the palace remained for decades.

The native language in a steamy voice warns travelers not to approach. They said the place was cursed. After Queen Charlata's mysterious death, something strange began. Those who dared to enter after sunset never returned the same thing. Some have disappeared completely. Others are back... Hollow.

But the young man laughed at the ghost story. Babesh was particularly fascinated by his studies of history. "It's just a neglected architecture," he said. "Maybe you'll find old artifacts and forgotten records." Using a backpack, lantern and rattling camera, the four friends set off on their bikes, following a narrow, curved path in the heart of the jungle.

In the late afternoon, they arrived at the palace. Rajmahal rose before them like a forgotten relic. His tower had collapsed, his windows had broken, but something felt like he was being careful. Ivy clung to the stone wall like a vein. The gates were open, rusty, and I groaned in the wind as if I was inviting them. Dust covers all surfaces. The faded painting of the wall stared closely at the wall. The chandelier passed from the ceiling. The scent of moisture, rot and inexplicable things filled the air.

You split up to explore. Bhavesh wandered through his studies and browsed drawers. Narayan went to the music room, fascinated by the broken piano. Samia and Arif looked through a long corridor filled with portraits - most of them faded, appearing to look into their eyes.

creeped up as dusk, and the palace got colder. The laughter faded.

Suddenly, a scream echoed from above.

It was Bhavesh.

Others ran up to look at him stiffly near the high, dusty mirror. His face is pale, and his lips tremble. "There was a woman," he whispered. "She was standing behind me in the mirror, but when I turned around, no one was there." Sameer chuckled nervously. "Maybe just your own reflection, man. This place comes to you."

But Arif said nothing. He felt it again - there was pressure in the air, as if the palace had been sucked in...and held his breath.

They decided to stay at the Lanterns' Lanterns at night and gather near the main hall. Bhavesh finds an old diary hidden under a panel of loose surprises. He began to read loudly.

"Rudranarayan doesn't listen. He says I betrayed him. But my heart never got lost. I'll see my end now. This palace will become my grave. My heart waits - for truth and justice." -Charulata

Stille followed. Narayan tried to laugh, but he seemed uneasy. They agreed to sleep together in the main hall.

But around midnight, Narayan moved. His eyes were glazed, and he stood up slowly, deliberately out of the hall. Arif, Halbwach, followed him.

Narayan moved to the courtyard behind. There, a large, cloudy pond sparkled under the moonlight.

He was on the edge and stared at his reflection. "She called me," he muttered.

"Who?" Arif quietly asked. Narayan did not answer. He took a step forward.

Suddenly, Arif collapsed and pulled him back. Narayan unconsciously collapsed. His body was cold and frozen. A whisper ran away from her mouth: Babesh insisted on returning to his diary. On the back was a yellow letter that was not addressed to anyone:

"If you read this, you know I am innocent. The maid lied. She wanted to destroy me. Rudranarayan believed her lies. And now I'm rotting under the water that he ordered me to throw. My soul cannot go. Please help if possible. “

They discovered that Charlata had not been murdered. Brushing in silence without justice.

In despair, the group changes to the next village and finds someone to help. They met an old priest who once served near the palace.

"She is still waiting," the priest said. "She's not harmful. She laments. She calls as her truth remains buried. If her innocence in the world is not revealed, it is never free. And those who enter their territory fall into their grief. “

With diaries, letters and truth, my friends went to the district records with some effort and confidence. The Charulata name has been officially released. Your innocence has been recognized.

A week later, Bhavesh returned to the palace alone.

This time, the air was easy. The shadows are not that cruel. Once dark and stagnant, the pond reflected the sky like glass. He stood near the edge, not knowing what he was expecting.

Then he looked at her for a moment.

Woman in a white sari standing on the other side of the pond. Your face is calm. Your eyes are no longer filled with pain. She smiled gently...and disappeared into the mist.

BHAVESH WHISPERED: "Resting now, Charulata"

And for the first time in more than a century, Rajmahal slept in peace.