Return to Bhanvra Gaon: The Curse Awakens
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| Image of Bhanvra Gaon |
To understand this story, you need to read Part 1 here.
It’s been six months since I escaped the cursed village of Bhanvra Gaon. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself.
But truthfully, I never really left.
The ghostly whispers, the red-saree woman with sewn lips, and Ravi’s lost gaze—none of it has left my mind. I’ve tried therapy, rituals, and even spiritual cleansings. Still, something lurks. Something waits.
I recently found claw marks on my bedroom wall. I live on the 9th floor. There are no pets. No logical explanation.
And then came the message.
Written in blood-red letters across my bathroom mirror: "Come back or she stays."
It was accompanied by a photo tucked under my pillow—a picture of my younger sister, asleep. Behind her in the dark corner stood the woman from the well, her eyes burning holes into the camera lens.
I had no choice.
The Journey Back
I didn’t tell anyone. Not even my sister. I told her I was leaving for a travel assignment and packed salt, iron nails, a flashlight, a copy of Hanuman Chalisa, and my grandfather’s rusted dagger.
I returned alone.
The forest greeted me with silence. No wind, no birds, only the memory of fear soaked into the soil. The old trail was still there—unchanged, as though time bowed to this cursed land.
And then, like before, the fog rolled in. Thicker. Hungrier.
The sign of “Bhanvra Gaon” creaked as I passed it. This time, the village wasn’t abandoned. The houses glowed faintly with lantern light. Smoke rose from chimneys.
It was alive.
But not… right.
The villagers moved slowly, their faces pale and emotionless. Eyes completely white, skin paper-thin.
They were the dead, pretending to live.
A Familiar Face
Near the temple ruins, I found him.
Ravi.
Still dressed in the same clothes, still whispering under his breath, but he was different. His eyes met mine, and for a split second, I saw recognition.
“They let me go only when you came back,” he said, voice raspy like dried leaves. “You brought it with you. And now it wants more.”
“Wants what?” I asked.
He looked past me. “You.”
Before I could respond, a loud gong echoed through the village. The villagers all turned their heads in unison, eyes glowing faintly green. They began chanting in a language I didn’t understand, slowly encircling us.
Ravi grabbed my arm. “Run. To the well. It’s where it began.”
Descent into Darkness
We reached the well just as the chanting grew louder, surrounding us like a wall of sound. The rope and bucket were gone, but an old ladder rested against the inner stones.
“I’m going down,” I said.
Ravi nodded, then whispered something chilling: “If I don’t make it… don’t let her out.”
I climbed down. The deeper I went, the colder it got. A thick black sludge coated the stones, pulsing slightly. At the bottom, I found an ancient stone door. The markings matched the ones in the priest’s diary I had read the last time.
I opened it.
Inside was a temple buried underground, black candles burning with blue flames. At the center stood a stone idol—half woman, half tree, vines twisted through its body like veins.
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| Idol and the woman in red saree |
Bound in chains was the woman in red, her eyes wide with fury.
She screamed without sound.
The Truth Unveiled
Suddenly, Ravi appeared beside me. “She was once their goddess,” he said. “The village worshipped her until they grew greedy. They tried to trap her essence, make her grant wishes eternally.”
He paused.
“But she was too strong. So they buried her here, bound by rituals, only kept asleep through sacrifice.”
I understood now.
They weren’t sacrificing villagers to banish her—they were doing it to appease her. To keep her sleeping.
“And now she’s awake,” Ravi whispered.
The idol cracked.
The ghostly woman stood upright, unbound. She turned to me, lips slowly unstitching. Blood oozed.
“You brought me stories. You’ll bring me the world.”
Her voice sounded like a thousand screams blended into one.
The Final Ritual
I took out the dagger, wrapped in salt and iron. Ravi started chanting—words from the priest’s diary. The woman shrieked and the entire cave trembled. The stone altar collapsed, and black liquid gushed out, consuming everything.
“I need your help!” Ravi shouted.
But I saw something behind him.
His reflection didn’t match his movement.
It wasn’t Ravi anymore.
He was already gone.
With one final breath, I stabbed the dagger into the center of the idol and screamed the last line of the chant:
“Let what was taken return to soil and silence!”
There was a blinding light.
Then nothing.
Awakening
I woke up three days later in a hospital in Pune. A farmer had found me near the base of the forest, unconscious, muttering in Sanskrit.
No one found Bhanvra Gaon. The village doesn't exist anymore. It’s not on Google Maps. Not even on ancient land records.
It’s like it vanished.
But I know the truth.
Because last night, my sister found a note under her pillow.
It simply read: “She remembers you.”
Final Thoughts
Evil doesn’t die. It waits.
If you ever hear a voice in your dreams calling you to the forest… don’t follow it. Don’t seek forgotten villages. Don’t answer the whispers from the woods.
Some doors, once opened, never close again.
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