THERE was a gunshot. All eyes turned in its direction. I also turned back and saw a beautiful white pigeon lying in a pool of blood.
We were a team of five. We were at Bonokanthi, a small village in Burdwan, West Bengal. The oldest Durga Puja of Bengal is held here deep inside the Gar forest. It was thrilling. It was Ashtami and we were taking a stroll in the forest when we heard the gunshot. We were taken aback as it was quite unnatural for someone to come hunting there. Immediately, a man dressed in a black dhoti with a sacred thread round his neck came running towards the pigeon. He picked it up without acknowledging our presence at all and vanished into the thicket.
He had red vermilion on his forehead and blood-shot bulging eyes. A chill ran through my spine.
My friends decided to follow him. I was reluctant, but had to accompany them. As we tip-toed through the thick forest, the forest grew denser and darker. Suddenly, we started sweating profusely and heard a loud chanting of mantras. We followed the sound and came to a clearing, where stood an idol carved out of black stone. The mouth was red and seemed to be oozing blood. Five white pigeons lay at its feet and the man in black dhoti sat in front of the idol, a dagger in hand. He chanted aloud some mantras.
After sometime he got up and stood still in front of the idol for sometime. Next, he took a bowl and sat down. He caught hold of a dead pigeon and slit its neck with the dagger and flung its head away. He held the pigeon with its neck near the bowl and collected the blood. The process continued till he had cut the necks of all the pigeons and collected the blood in the bowl.
I almost collapsed when the man started drinking thirstily out of the bowl. We ran from there as fast as our feet could take us, until we reached our cottage. That night none of us could eat properly. The caretaker of the cottage told us that it was the God of the tribal people living in that forest. On the eve of every Durga Ashtami, the priest performs certain rites for the wellbeing of the tribe.
We stayed up till late that night. Suddenly Akash, from one of us, came up with the weirdest idea. He had a love for antiques. He decided to take home that idol. We tried reasoning with him, but he was adamant.
Next morning, we got up to find that Akash had left. He had written a note that said he was leaving in our jeep. With the idol. He requested us to hire a car for ourselves. We were upset at his hypocrisy.
We took breakfast and went for a walk avoiding that part of the forest we had visited last evening. After returning to the cottage, we sat down to have lunch. Suddenly, news flashed on the screen of the TV set. It left us speechless. Our jeep had met with an accident. It was badly damaged. But Akash’s body was nowhere to be found.
We packed our belongings and hired a car to leave immediately. We had no option but to pass through the weird spot in the forest. As we were passing by, we glanced at the direction where we had seen the idol last evening. And what we saw left us speechless! The idol stood where it was, with fresh blood tickling down its mouth an d patches of blood on its body.
Akash’s body was never found...
