After the sun's final golden rays disappeared, darkness descended. The night that had spread its alluring enchantment was engulfed in solitude and gloom. Two middle-aged men appeared to be warming their hands on the gentle flames of a little fire that was blazing close to an old warehouse in the highlands, the walls of which were obscured by the dew and darkness. "Today it is a little colder than usual." One of them spoke while snugly pulling his red woollen cap over his head.
"Does this cold feel any colder? Hey, it felt lovely to be cold when we had a snowfall." With his hands on his face, the other man uttered these words.
"Manohar, maybe you have forgotten the tales of those cold evenings. Those were the evenings when his shadow was there too. Mukho...."
"Girish!!!" The other individual shouted up; his voice roiled with rage and dread. Owing to the night's silence, this word had become a scream.
"What?" Girish questioned him, taking aback at his response.
"Was it really necessary, in such a situation, for you to bring him up now?" In an obnoxious tone, he spoke, "I remember those nightsโthose cursed nightsโwhen everyone stayed inside their houses, holding their breath and pleading with God for an early daybreak." His words sounded a little abrasive because of the cold and his fear.
"Many years have passed since the time he left, although he was once. Let go of your fear now." Girish said in a consoling tone.
"Still...," But Manohar could not complete his words because Girish interrupted him and, "Now, putting these things aside, have you counted every box stored in the warehouse? Tomorrow, we have to deliver every box to the mayor's bungalow." He said.
"I didn't initiate this topic; you did, and sure, I have counted; there are 17 boxes in all." Manohar said.
"For their size, the boxes weigh relatively little. What do you suppose those crates contain?" Rubbing his hands together, he asked.
"There was a slight crack in one of those boxes, so I peeked through it. The box was filled with colourful items. It all seemed like gimmicky stuff to me." Manohar replied, his face belying his confusion.
"There is such stuff in it. Perhaps some entertainment programme is about to take place. It should happen; nothing like this has happened here for a long time." Girish turned back slowly to the spot where a small white bucket with sand in it was stored. Grabbing the bucket, he began to slowly pour sand over the blazing fire.
"Have you, by the way, closed the warehouse door properly? Its hinges are rusty, which prevents it from closing decisively." Manohar stated as he observed the flames gradually fading out because of the sand.ย
"Absolutely, I've already closed it. In any case, there is nothing worth stealing from the warehouse." With a mocking tone, Girish spoke.
"Lantern," With haste, Manohar said.
"Lantern?" Girish said with a confused expression while completely emptying the bucket of sand.ย With a faint noise, the flames subsided, leaving the remaining wood with only a slight impression of the burning fire.
"I forgot the lantern inside the warehouse," Placing his hand behind his neck, Manohar murmured.
"Why do all such things often happen to you?" Girish muttered, seeming annoyed.
"You just wait for a while; I will open the warehouse and get the lantern." Manohar said.
"Let it be; it's not like we have to travel very far, and we can manage without a lantern." Girish said.
"But..."
"If night terrors frighten you, I'll go home after dropping you off at your residence."
"No, that's not the case. That lantern belongs to my wife; her mother gave it to her as a wedding gift." Manohar spoke while wearing an anxious look.
"In front of me, don't act like a subservient spouse. Why do you fret so much? Since we need to transfer the luggage into the large vehicle, we have to come back tomorrow," As he spoke, he used his feet to clear away partially burned sticks that were scattered around the ground, "My kid doesn't eat without me, so come on, she will be waiting for me."
"Okay," Manohar said half-heartedly.
They both began to move carefully down the hill, taking their time as they walked over the uneven route.
"This path has areas where the moss growth is so thick that going over it needs caution, and to make matters worse, there's fog." Girish uttered these words while vainly attempting to discern the road below in the complete darkness.
"And you have brought us on such a path without a lantern." Manohar spoke in a mocking manner.
"We won't fall, so don't worry." With a short chuckle, Girish said.
"How do you make such a fast shift in argument?" Manohar said.
"Leave all this," Girish said while trying to change the topic, "Whose vehicle will all of this stuff be travelling in tomorrow? No one else here has a large vehicle to transport luggage, and Tamir has been in Agra for a few days." He said, rubbing his right ear.
"As far as I know, he will be back by tomorrow morning." Rubbing his hands around his neck, Manohar replied.
"Does he, by the way, have any wealthy relatives that reside in Agra?"
"No, Buxar is where his family resides. However, why did you ask this question?" Manohar asked him.
"The last time he visited Agra, he purchased a large, nearly brand-new vehicle for carrying luggage. How?"
Manohar grinned slightly at hearing Girish's remarks, "He has an interesting story for this topic. He claims that when he visited Agra the last time, the word spread around the city that Dilip Kumar Ji was staying there to work on his next film.
Maybe some monarch and prince were the subject of that movie. The majority of the city had arrived at the location where the filming was taking place, and he was one of those people," Both of them stepped onto the flat path. "He was stating that a large number of horses and elephants had also been brought there. He was among the many people in the audience who were given the opportunity to play soldiers in that movie. He claims that actual pearls were thrown on Dilip Ji when he approached the fort dressed as a prince."
"Real pearls?" Girish spoke with a tone of surprise.
"That is his statement. He used some of those that he could easily pilfer to purchase his vehicle. Tamir had heard some claim that this movie would make history because it is unlike anything that has ever been made in our country." Manohar replied, sweeping his keen eyes around him as he strolled along the foggy path.
"Perhaps what he's saying is accurate." It sounded as though Girish was done talking about this. He glanced at Manohar, who appeared a little uneasy, "๐ ๐ฆ๐ฉ ๐ฃ๐ข๐ข๐ต ๐ฎ๐ข๐ช ๐ฃ๐ฉ๐ข๐ญ๐ข ๐ฌ๐ข๐ช๐ด๐ฆ ๐ฌ๐ข๐ฉ๐ถ, ๐๐ถ ๐ญ๐ข๐จ๐ฆ ๐ฎ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ข ๐ด๐ข๐ช๐บ๐บ๐ข...," He began humming the song's melody after that, which irritated Manohar.
"Could you please put an end to this!" Manohar spoke in a frustrated tone.
"Okay. I was merely humming to calm your anxiety." Girish spoke as though he wasn't happy with Manohar's remarks. Only the sound of their footsteps could be heard in the eerie silence of the night. In the shadows of the gathering fog, not even an animal's cry could be heard. They could feel fear approaching their hearts now. Maybe it was only the influence of his erratic mind, but Manohar sensed that the environment was getting scarier. His mind was drifting off, and he was desperate to go home. That's when he heard Girish humming again, which made him feel both angry and relieved since it prevented the silence but was still intolerable. He turned, a look of anger on his face, and saw that Girish had turned his back on him and stopped some distance away. Something was wrong.
"What happened? I thought I'd told you not to hum." Manohar said with a tone of anger. The humming noise continued to come. "Girish!" This time, Manohar spoke loudly. Girish slowly turned, his dark features now tinged with terror. In fear, he was inhaling deeply and quickly. All of this took Manohar a little by surprise. "What happened?" Manohar said, placing his hand on his shoulder. Girish was making an effort to say something, but his voice was not helping him.
"It's...not..me..making...that...humming..sound."
Manohar appeared to lose his breath at the sound of these remarks. Looking at him, it seemed as if even his soul had trembled. Even now, when Girish was standing in front of him, trying to speak to him in a trembling voice, he could still hear the hum in his voice. They were now aware of what was taking place there.
"Run," Perhaps Girish had put in all his soul into saying this word.
They both took off running into the mist as though this was their final chance at survival. But they were still hearing that hum, as if someone was humming right next to them. A few old memories had sprung to life once more in their thoughts.
Dust from the ground was combining with the tears that Manohar was shedding. Perhaps home was a bit too far away today. Before them, from a distance, they noticed a hazy silhouette. It was useless to run away now. There was an odd fragrance in the air, and now that they knew what it meant, it was frightening them even more. Something akin to a man with long, curly, black hair dressed in a gorgeous crimson outfit that was ripped in several places. His face was covered like a secret behind a wooden mask with a peculiar black mark on it that only revealed his light red eyes when viewed from a distance in front. One of his hands was inside a white glove; the other was splattered with blood. He continued to hum as he inched his way towards them. Girish was in front of Manohar, seemingly immobile with his legs. Manohar, however, turned his legs and fled in pursuit of his final chance of surviving, as he was aware of how the incident would end.
Behind him, he heard the sound of something heavy striking the rough ground, which was probably Girish's dead body. Manohar's thoughts were only focused on his wife and family. The cold was hurting his body, but he had no other option but to run away. He crouched behind the thick woods and tried to catch his breath, which was getting laboured from his rapid running. He was still in disbelief that what he had just witnessed was real. After all these years, he came back, but how? Without making any noise, he looked towards the path through the trees; despite the fog, he could see that there was no movement on the path. He attempted to convince himself that the threat was passed. But, "Manohar," A lovely voice, sounding like it was his wife calling, approached him from behind. His soul descended into fear again at the knowledge that she could not be there. Realising that there was nothing more he could do to escape, he lost all courage to do so. With closed eyes, he stood there, sobbing. He became aware that there was someone staring at him from behind. But seeing him was not what he wanted. That lovely, unfamiliar scent was still there, and it gave him the horrible impression that he was getting close to him. He felt the touch of hands on his shoulders, which were as cold as ice. "Manohar," This person's voice was icy, raspy, and extremely sluggish. Without any control over himself, he opened his eyes and turned as though someone had ordered him to. The mask-covered face caught his attention at close range, and he lost himself in the horrible scene before his eyes went dead. With a gentle movement, those icy hands released the corpse's shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. The dead man's eyes, which were open and filled with horror, had a small smile on his face, but the eyes hidden behind the mask were looking at it relievedly, as if this was a nice beginning.