This spooky story is set in the Sylhet region of Bangladesh.
In the middle of September, on a crisp autumn evening illuminated by a half-moon, Govindasree village basked in a tranquil ambiance. A gentle, refreshing breeze wafted from the Kushiyara river, enveloping the idyllic surroundings.
Nestled along the banks of the Kushiyara river, Govindasree Bazar stood as the bustling hub of the locality. Its prominence stemmed from the revered Golok Mandir, drawing villagers from nearby Aaqakhazana, Angura, Banigram, Deulgram, Lamligram, and Lawjary.
Merchants from other neighboring riverside villages also flocked to this market, lured by its allure. While traditionally market days were reserved for Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays, the market’s popularity had elevated it to a daily affair.
This extension of market days proved to be a boon for the fishermen residing in Govindasree, adjacent to the bazar. With easy access to the bountiful Kushiyara river, they could procure fresh catches and fetch excellent prices in the bustling market, benefiting from the allure of their just-caught fish.
For as long as they could recall, Kuton and Lalon had been engaged in the timeless trade of fishing and selling their catches. Hailing from the fishermen community that had migrated to Panchakhanda (present-day Beanibazar), their lineage traced back to Raghai and Basia, two esteemed Sardars from the fishermen community residing in the Barak Valley of Assam.
As the bustling bazar gradually quieted down, shoppers made their way homeward, their purchases in tow. Along the banks of the Kushiyara, merchants loaded their surplus goods onto awaiting boats, preparing for their own journeys.
“What a splendid day it has been! I’ve managed to sell every last fish,” Kuton exclaimed with excitement.
“Likewise! It’s been a prosperous day for all. Let’s gather our belongings and head home,” Lalon replied.
Kuton and Lalon meticulously gathered the banana leaves they had utilized as their fish stall’s foundation, stacking them neatly. They loaded the empty fish baskets onto their trusty wooden cart, alongside the carefully arranged stacks of banana leaves. With each taking turns pushing the cart, they embarked on their journey homeward.
Upon reaching the Golok Mandir, Kuton and Lalon carefully disposed of the stacks of banana leaves into the adjacent canal. This was a common practice among the fishermen, as the leaves would decompose and serve as nourishing food for the fish dwelling in the canal.
As Kuton continued pushing the cart, he asked, “Do you feel like going fishing later tonight?”
“Not really, I’m not feeling too well. Let’s skip it for tonight. We can sell the fish we have stored in the tanks ,tomorrow,” replied Lalon.
Residing in the same Bari, Kuton and Lalon’s houses were mere meters apart. They also shared a storage house they had constructed to house their fishing baskets and equipment. Inside, they had sizable clay tanks specifically designed to store the surplus fish from their fishing expeditions.
These clay tanks had been custom-made by a local Kumar in exchange for a bountiful catch of fish. Placed atop the water in the tanks was Zarmoni, a substance that helped maintain the water’s coolness and clarify any sediment.
The tanks held an ample supply of fish, ensuring that Kuton and Lalon could sustain their market sales for an entire week without needing to venture out fishing.
After safely storing their baskets and equipment, Kuton and Lalon returned to their respective houses to retrieve fresh sets of clothes. They then made their way to the communal pond, where they bathed using soap to rid their bodies of the lingering fishy smell and sweat. Lalon dried himself with a Gamsa, donned his clean clothes, and prepared to leave the pond.
“See you in the morning. Get some rest before we prepare for the bazar,” Lalon whispered to Kuton.
“See you in the morning,” Kuton whispered back.
Whispering at night was a customary practice to avoid disturbing any spirits. As Lalon departed, a loud cawing sound echoed through the air, indicating the presence of a crow. Kuton recognized it as a sign of ill fortune but didn’t dwell on it. He dried himself with his Gamsa, put on his fresh clothes, and proceeded toward his house.
As Kuton reached his home, the cawing sound of the crow could be heard once again. Upon entering, he was greeted by his wife, and a Thali with food was prepared and waiting. Kuton and his wife shared the meal and then retired to bed.
The night was tranquil and serene, with a gentle breeze lowering the temperature to a comfortable level. Kuton and his wife peacefully drifted into a deep slumber.
Without warning, the sound of approaching footsteps caught Kuton off guard, causing him to jump slightly. The late hour had him puzzled, as he wasn’t expecting anyone to visit at this time. Confident that his home held no items of immense value, he quickly dismissed any thoughts of a potential thief approaching.
Startled by the sound of a couple of knocks on his front door, he was taken aback when no words were spoken by the unexpected visitor. This left Kuton feeling both intrigued and curious about the identity and intentions of this unexpected visitor during the early hours.
“Who is it?” Kuton asked cautiously.
“It’s me,” came the reply.
“Is that you, Lalon? Why are you knocking on my door at this hour?” Kuton inquired, puzzled by the unexpected visit.
“Yes, it’s me. Please, open the door,” Lalon responded urgently.
Kuton sensed that something was amiss. Lalon wouldn’t normally be knocking on his door around 2:00 am. Despite his apprehension, Kuton opened the door and welcomed Lalon inside. Lalon’s eyes were bloodshot, and he appeared visibly exhausted. Kuton remembered that Lalon had mentioned feeling unwell earlier in the evening, but he hadn’t anticipated this late-night visit.
“What’s the matter, Lalon?” Kuton asked, concern evident in his voice.
“Let’s go fishing,” Lalon replied abruptly.
“I thought you didn’t want to go fishing tonight. What changed your mind?” Kuton inquired, puzzled by Lalon’s sudden change of heart.
“I have a strong feeling that tonight will bring us a bountiful catch. We shouldn’t miss out on this opportunity,” Lalon replied, his voice filled with excitement.
As the two friends settled on the floor, Kuton’s wife approached with two cups of hot red tea. Lalon eagerly grabbed one cup, while Kuton took the other.
Kuton began sipping his tea slowly, savoring its warmth, but Lalon swiftly downed his entire cup in one gulp. It was an unusual sight, as no one drank tea like that, especially when it was still piping hot.
Kuton couldn’t help but notice Lalon’s peculiar behavior. He suspected that Lalon might have indulged in a few puffs of ganja from the hukka before arriving at his house.
Lalon’s eyes were red and bloodshot, a clear sign that he had been smoking a lot of hukka. Kuton knew that fishing in such a state was not a wise decision, especially considering the risks of accidents, especially in deep waters where drowning was a real danger.
“Do you seriously think it’s a good idea to go fishing in your current condition?” Kuton asked with a worried tone, showing his concern for Lalon’s well-being.
“Come on, we can’t afford to miss out on this opportunity for a big catch. Let’s go,” Lalon insisted, his enthusiasm undeterred.
As they prepared to embark on their fishing expedition, Kuton grabbed the hurricane lantern, while both of them made their way to the storage house to gather the necessary fishing equipment.
“Take the cast net and I’ll handle the oar,” Kuton whispered.
“I’m feeling a bit tired. I’ll take care of the oar, baskets, and the bucket,” Lalon responded, his fatigue apparent. It was peculiar since it was Lalon’s idea to go fishing in the first place.
Kuton picked up the cast net, holding the lantern in one hand to illuminate their path, while Lalon followed behind, carrying the oar, baskets, and the bucket.
Upon reaching the canal, Kuton and Lalon noticed their boat in the distance. It was partially submerged in the water due to a small leak that needed repairs. They had left it in that state, intending to fix it and apply a fresh coat of tar within the next couple of weeks.
Placing the lantern and cast net on the ground, Kuton hopped onto the boat. He positioned his legs on either side, causing the boat to rock back and forth. This rocking motion displaced the water and allowed the boat to rise up.
Meanwhile, Lalon secured the baskets to a nearby bush and patiently waited for Kuton to return to the shore. Once Kuton leaped off the boat, he grabbed the hurricane lantern and the cast net. He fastened the lantern onto the stand built into the wooden plank that ran across the boat.
With the oar and the bucket in hand, Lalon stepped onto the boat. His role was to row the boat along the canal and into the Kushiyara river, simultaneously bailing out any water that entered through the leak, using the bucket.
Kuton took charge of the fishing task, utilizing his remarkable skill with the cast net. He adeptly tossed it into the water, precisely targeting the areas where the fish gathered.
They would load the boat with fish and return to the canal side. Kuton would load the fish into the baskets while Lalon went back to the storage house to fetch the cart for loading the baskets onto it.
Kuton positioned himself at the front of the boat while Lalon rowed through the swampy canal, leading them towards the Kushiyara river.
Upon reaching the Kushiyara, the lantern’s light reflected on the water’s surface, causing fish to start jumping around. Kuton anticipated a busy night and expected a plentiful catch.
Lalon rowed the boat out to the middle of the river and ceased rowing. He used the bucket to bail out any water that had seeped into the boat.
As the boat slowed down, Kuton rose from his seat and positioned the cast net behind his shoulder. He skillfully threw it into the water and waited for it to sink. Once the net had fully submerged, he began to slowly draw it in. The net was teeming with numerous small and larger fish. Kuton carefully placed all the fish into the boat and cleaned the net for the next throw.
Lalon gradually moved the boat further after each catch. This process continued until the boat was half-filled with fish, energetically jumping around in the water that had entered through the small leak at the bottom of the boat.
Everything appeared ordinary at first, despite the water seeping into the boat. Kuton instructed Lalon to start bailing the water while he continued fishing.
Abruptly, Kuton became aware of a noticeable decrease in the number of fish in the boat, particularly the larger ones. He also heard faint crunching sounds from behind him, but fear held him back from turning around immediately. An unsettling feeling told him that something was wrong.
Glancing at the water’s reflection illuminated by the lamp, Kuton’s heart nearly skipped a beat. He saw the reflection of a monstrous creature devouring the fish behind him.
Kuton fought the urge to scream and managed to remain silent. He knew he had to act normal until they reached the shore.
“I really need to relieve myself. Please row the boat towards the shore,” Kuton requested.
“Why now? Just keep fishing,” Lalon replied in a mumbled voice.
“I can’t wait any longer. It’s urgent. I need to go now,” Kuton insisted.
It was customary for fishermen along the Kushiyara river to relieve themselves on the shore, as they respected the water that provided their livelihood and didn’t wish to pollute it.
Reluctantly, Lalon began rowing the boat toward the shore. Kuton realized that the person beside him was not his friend, Lalon.
As soon as the boat neared the bank of the Kushiyara, Kuton swiftly leaped off. Lalon followed closely, attempting to grab hold of him. But Kuton acted swiftly, throwing the cast net over Lalon before making a desperate escape.
He could hear his friend’s voice calling out to him, growing deeper and more monstrous with each passing moment as Kuton ran for his life. Alongside the canal, the cawing of a crow echoed in his ears, drawing closer, but he dared not look back.
Finally, Kuton reached his house and urgently pounded on the door. His wife opened it, shocked by his disheveled appearance. Kuton quickly secured the door, knowing that the person outside, masquerading as Lalon, was not to be trusted.
“Be absolutely quiet and do not open the door,” he whispered carefully to his wife, her eyes filled with immense fear. They settled down, trying to fall asleep, but the anxiety kept them awake throughout the night. As morning approached, the persistent knocking on the door gradually faded away.
The morning sunlight streamed through the small ventilation holes above Kuton’s window, gently caressing his face and stirring him awake. Slowly, he regained control of his senses, trying to piece together the shocking events of the previous night. He wondered if it had all been a shocking nightmare.
“Did I really go fishing with Lalon last night?” Kuton inquired, seeking confirmation from his wife.
“Yes, Lalon came over, and both of you left together,” his wife affirmed, confirming that the unsettling incidents had indeed transpired. Kuton shared the details of what had occurred during their ill-fated fishing expedition before deciding to visit Lalon’s house.
With a sense of urgency, Kuton knocked hastily on Lalon’s door, yearning to ascertain that he had not left his own house that night.
“Who’s there at this early hour?” Lalon’s voice questioned from inside.
“It’s me,” Kuton swiftly replied.
Lalon, sensing that something was amiss, roused himself from bed and swiftly opened the door. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease, as Kuton rarely resorted to such early-morning visits.
Kuton and Lalon came to a realization that Lalon had never left his house the previous night due to feeling unwell. As Kuton shared the harrowing events with his friend, Lalon was taken aback, finding it difficult to believe what he was hearing. However, he trusted Kuton implicitly and was determined to uncover the truth.
Without wasting any time, Kuton and Lalon swiftly left the house, sprinting along the canal’s edge. Their eyes caught sight of the still-tied baskets, a reminder of the eerie events that had unfolded. They continued their rapid pace until they reached the bank of the Kushiyara river, just beyond Govindasree Bazar, where Kuton had leapt off the boat. To their surprise, the boat was absent, having drifted towards Aaqakhazana. Fortunately, the sluggish current had guided the boat to a halt further downstream along the riverbank.
The cast net remained in its place, but instead of capturing Lalon within its folds, it now housed a crow.
“This is the exact spot where I cast the net over you. I realized it wasn’t you after hearing the sounds of the creature devouring the fish and witnessing its reflection in the water,” Kuton explained.
“You’re fortunate that the monster didn’t harm you. It seems to have transformed into a crow now,” Lalon remarked, acknowledging the strange turn of events.
They were taken aback when the seemingly lifeless crow suddenly stirred, emitting a caw that sent shivers down their spines. Instinctively, they took a step back, their apprehension growing.
“We must put an end to this malevolent entity before it transforms again,” suggested Kuton, determination etched on his face.
“Let’s make our way to Robi’s grocery store,” replied Lalon, his voice filled with urgency.
They sprinted towards the bustling Bazar, reaching Robi’s store in no time. They roused Robi, who slept inside the store during the night.
“Robi, could we have a bottle of kerosene?” inquired Kuton, his tone reflecting the seriousness of their request.
“Why do you need kerosene so early in the morning?” Robi inquired, curiosity evident in his voice.
“We require it for a ritual,” responded Kuton cryptically.
Without further questioning, Robi filled a bottle with kerosene and handed it over to Kuton. The two friends swiftly retraced their steps back to the riverbank, their eyes fixed on the struggling crow trapped within the cast net. The bird’s desperate cries echoed through the air, pleading for release.
Filled with trepidation, both Kuton and Lalon were determined to put an end to this unsettling situation. Kuton proceeded to pour kerosene over the net, thoroughly soaking the trapped crow. As the liquid seeped into its feathers, the creature’s shrieks transformed into an unnaturally deep, monstrous voice.
With the kerosene exhausted, Lalon struck a match and set it ablaze, tossing it onto the net. The crow writhed and twisted in agony, its form morphing into various distorted shapes while emitting deafening screams. As the flames gradually diminished, a billowing plume of smoke ascended into the sky, and the crow’s remains transformed into ashes, leaving behind an eerie calm in the surroundings.
Amidst the chaos, a gathering of fishermen had congregated along the riverbank, drawn by the commotion. Kuton shared with them the harrowing events that transpired during their ill-fated fishing expedition. To their surprise, some of the other fishermen revealed similar encounters, witnessing a monstrous entity snatching fish from the depths of the Kushiyara, consuming them with a bone-chilling crunch.
The exact nature of this beast remained an enigma, vanishing swiftly into the dense swampy vegetation along the riverbank. Its presence had disrupted the fishing grounds near Govindasree, forcing the fishermen to row further along the Kushiyara to salvage their catches. The waters had been altered, and an air of unease lingered among the fishing community.
In the present day, the river that runs alongside Govindasree Bazar teemed with an abundance of fish. The local fishermen rejoiced as they no longer had to venture far to secure their daily catches for the bustling marketplace.
This tale of intrigue and mystery unfolded in the bygone era of the village of Govindasree in Beanibazar. Lalon and Kuton, the protagonists of this story, passed down their harrowing experience to future generations, ensuring that the legend endured.
As I sat savoring a cup of tea at a quaint tea stall in Govindasree Bazar, I stumbled upon this captivating narrative. After bidding farewell to the tea stall owner, I mounted my motorbike and rode past the remnants of the Golok Mandir. A shiver crept up my spine as the haunting cawing of a crow resonated beside me.
To what extent this story holds truth, I cannot say. I leave it to your discerning judgment to determine the veracity of these accounts, as the mystique of Govindasree continues to captivate the curious minds of those who encounter its enigmatic tale.
Written by Mujibur Rahman
– The End –
Sylheti Words And Locations Used In The Text
Bari – A plot in the village shared by a number of households as living space.
Beanibazar – A part of Sylhet district in Bangladesh.
Gamsa – Light cloth.
Hukka – Chalice pipe used in Bangladesh to smoke tobacco and sometimes Ganja.
Kumar – Potter of clay vessels.
Kushiyara – A river that flows through Beanibazar in Sylhet, Bangladesh.
Govindasree – A village located by the banks of the Kushiyara river in Sylhet, Bangladesh.
Golok Mandir – Ancient Hindu temple located in Govindasree, Beanibazar, Sylhet, Bangladesh.
Sardar – Community or tribal leader.
Sylhet – A district in Bangladesh.
Thali – Circular dish with compartments, used to serve food.
Zarmoni – Water hyacinth
“This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.”
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