The trio stood in awe, their eyes fixated on the captivating lady captured in the picture. Time seemed to stand still as they absorbed the essence of her presence.
Clad in an elegant blue saree, adorned with a matching blouse, she exuded an air of grace and sophistication, despite the slightly dusky hue of her complexion.
"So, Nishika, it's your responsibility as our guide to unveil the mysteries of this basement, right?" Prayog quipped, attempting to inject a touch of levity into the moment.
Nishika beamed, embracing her role wholeheartedly. "Absolutely! Consider me your fearless leader through this labyrinth of secrets," she responded with enthusiasm.
Amidst their conversation, Vibhav, ever curious, couldn't resist exploring the dimly lit depths of the basement. "Boss, it's pitch black down here. We can't see a thing, and there's no sign of electricity," he lamented, his disappointment evident.
Nishika's face lit up with a spark of recollection. "Ah, my mother always relied on a trusty lamp when she worked here," she revealed, her words laced with nostalgia.
"Ah, that explains it. Could you show us where it is so we can shed some light on our investigation?" Prayog requested, his curiosity piqued.
Just as they contemplated their next move, a soft glow emerged from the staircase. A figure materialized, holding a flickering kerosene lamp. It was an elderly lady, her eyes sharp and observant as she surveyed the room.
"Well, well, what do we have here? I see you were in need of a lamp. I arrived just in the nick of time," Prayog remarked, unable to shake off the feeling of being under her penetrating gaze.
The old lady's response was swift and resolute. "Did you honestly think I would allow you two to roam freely in my daughter's sanctuary? No, my dear, that won't be happening," she declared, dispelling any notions of unaccompanied exploration.
Prayog, though slightly disappointed, mustered a gracious smile. "No problem at all. The more, the merrier, they say," he replied, masking his eagerness with a touch of regret.
With their group now complete, they ventured deeper into the basement. A sturdy table, adorned with the comforting glow of the lamp, stood at the center of the room.
Opposite it, a row of intriguing drawers beckoned their attention, while a map adorned the wall beside the door, meticulously marked with intriguing symbols. The room's layout unfolded before their eyes like a puzzle waiting to be solved.
Eager to keep the conversation flowing, Prayog broke the silence. "So, Grandma, tell us about your son. What was his story?"
A flicker of sadness crossed the old lady's face, mingled with a simmering resentment. "Oh, my son was nothing but trouble. He brought nothing but pain to my daughter and me. Just talking about him makes my blood boil," she confessed, her voice carrying the weight of a lifetime of disappointment.
Prayog's choice of words betrayed his misstep. "Ah, I see. He must have been quite the character, then."
"Character?" Grandma scoffed, her fists tightening with anger.
"He was a wretched soul, undeserving of my daughter's love. She was a princess, and he..." Her voice trailed off, heavy with unspoken anguish.
Her words hung in the air, thick with emotion. Prayog struggled to find a response, his throat dry with sympathy.
"And to make matters worse, he divorced her and tried to strip her of everything she held dear," Grandma continued
Oh..." Prayog found himself at a loss for words.
"And so, I did what I should have done long ago—I disowned him as my son and banished him from my property." A touch of sadness crept into the old woman's voice as she settled at the foot of the stairs.
"That is indeed a tragic tale. If I may ask, when did this occur?"
"About six years ago. Three years after she was married and a year after Nishika was born," the old woman settled herself at the foot of the stairs.
"That's indeed a melancholic tale. If I may inquire, was it an arranged marriage?" Prayog asked, his curiosity piqued as he rummaged through one of the drawers.
Grandma let out a sigh, her gaze fixed upon the flickering lamp.
"Does anything else unfold within these walls? Of course, it was an arranged marriage, one that I now regret granting permission for. Perhaps, had I declined the proposal, she would have been wedded to someone else, spared the hardships she endured," Grandma lamented, her voice tinged with regret.
Prayog's interest deepened. "What did she do?" he inquired, his attention shifting to the notes he had discovered within the drawer near the lamp.
"She was a dedicated teacher at the local primary school," Grandma began, her voice heavy with a mixture of pride and sorrow.
Prayog nodded in understanding. "It must have been challenging for you after her disappearance," he sympathized, flipping through the notes.
"She was the backbone of our lives. She managed everything, from tending to the farm to ensuring the smooth functioning of the school. "
"From taking care of Nishika to maintaining the household. It has been a catastrophic ordeal since she left. I find myself lost, uncertain of what steps to take. At this stage of life, when I am vulnerable to the whims of mortality, what will become of my child?" Grandma sighed, the weight of her responsibilities bearing down on her.
Her gaze shifted toward the little girl, her eyes brimming with worry. "With the help of the villagers, we have somehow managed to get by, but what awaits her when I am no longer here?" she wondered aloud, a tear escaping down her weathered cheek.
"Don't cry, Grandma. When I grow up, I'll take care of everything, just like Mom did. From the farm to the school and from Nishika to..." the little girl's voice trailed off, her innocent laughter cutting through the somber atmosphere.
Vibhav couldn't help but join in the levity. "I completely agree. It seems to me that the only person capable of taking care of Nishika is Nishika herself," he chuckled, and their shared laughter filled the room, momentarily dispelling their worries.
"Boss, I think I've stumbled upon something!" Vibhav's voice rang out, brimming with excitement.
"Likewise!" Prayog exclaimed.
Gathering around the table, all four of them immersed themselves in the task at hand. The lamp stood at the center, casting its gentle glow upon the spread of papers.
Nishika, too short to see properly, sat on her grandmother's lap, their bond offering comfort amidst the mystery.
Though the papers were a bit worn and stained, their contents were discernible upon closer inspection. However, it was evident that unraveling the puzzle wouldn't be a straightforward endeavor.
"Well, it's all in code!" Vibhav declared, his excitement growing by the second.
"Which means my mom was even more brilliant than both of you!" Nishika interjected confidently.
Vibhav attempted to provoke her. "I'm not quite sure how that logic works."
Nishika smiled, her eyes gleaming with intelligence.
"Since it's written in code, and you're struggling to read and decode it, it implies a lack of knowledge in this domain. Hence, my mother's superior intellect surpasses both of yours. She was undoubtedly more intelligent than the two of you combined!" she explained, her words laced with a mixture of pride and playful banter.
Are you sure you're a normal kid? Because from where I'm sitting, it doesn't seem that way," Vibhav retorted.
"Since I'm my mom's daughter, and she is far more intelligent and smart than you, it's only reasonable that I would be the same. But, needless to say, a fool cannot judge a wise person. I mean, ask not the sparrow how the eagle soars, right?" Nishika refused to back down easily.
Vibhav frowned. "Or it could be that you lack some manners when speaking to your elders."
"Or it could be that YOU lack some manners in how to talk to your client, the first one at that. Oh, but ask not the sparrow..." Nishika was interrupted by a sudden outburst of irritation.
"You already said that!" Vibhav exclaimed, running out of arguments.
"Kids, if you're done, could we please focus on the matter at hand?" Prayog sighed, with a disappointed look on his face.
"These two sure look like they're pretty close!" Grandma remarked.
"Close with him? In my dreams. But I'll stop for now," Nishika scoffed.
"The feeling's mutual, kid!" Vibhav replied.
"What have you found?" Prayog asked Vibhav.
"I've found a lot of things, but this one is about the trees," Vibhav said, showing the others in the room a poorly sketched drawing of three trees.
"Looks like it was drawn by a real artist," Vibhav said to Prayog, but its aim was somewhere else and it produced desired effect.
"That's probably because she might have been in a hurry..." Nishika interjected, refusing to sit back and watch.
"Guys!" the old woman's voice finally seemed to stop them from going into another verbal fight.
"Well, that's good news. But I have bad news," Prayog said, making a face.
"And why is that?" Grandma asked.
"Because it warns us to stay away from the Churel (Churail)," he said, staring at the paper.
Then he showed them all the paintings on the first page, which, although poorly done, described the danger with perfection.
The little girl hugged her grandma tightly, and Vibhav was not going to stay silent, but a stern stare from Prayog prevented him from speaking.
"Let's get into the details first!" Prayog suggested.