Chapter 1 - Arnav
🎶Bijli - Rishab Rikhiram Sharma
Arnav shifted gears, gunning the accelerator, his BMW XM groaning in protest. He stared at the dashboard in disbelief. This couldn’t be happening. Not from a brand new car!
Night had fallen suddenly, the darkness creeping in without warning. He glanced outside his window, seeing tall trees stripped bare of their leaves, winter doing its inevitable work. Lucky for him, the bare treetops let in just enough moonlight to illuminate his path as the car came to a complete halt.
What luck though, Arnav fumed. A full moon.
He could almost picture Aman cringing on the other end of the phone as he made the call, yelling his name as soon as his manager answered.
“You’ve got to be kidding me! Call the dealership and have that salesman fired. My car just broke down in the middle of nowhere!!”
"Hang on, sir. Send me your location—I’ll send help ASAP!"
Arnav did as he was told, growling under his breath. As his eyes adjusted to the surrounding darkness, he stepped out of his SUV. Thank goodness for the three-piece suit he wore; the cold wasn’t as biting, though it still stung the exposed parts of his skin.
It was eerily silent—no breeze, not a whisper of any living creature around him. The dirt path he had been driving on stretched endlessly ahead, leading into the unknown. Suddenly, his phone rang, shattering the stillness.
"Sir, you seem to have made it to the address. The Mahal is not far from where you are located right now. Don’t you see it?"
“See what?!” Arnav snapped, his head swiveling from side to side. “There’s just dead leaves around and—oh.”
He spotted it. A break in the trees to his left. The path ahead was narrow, barely wide enough for an experienced driver to navigate without scraping against the trees on either side. In the distance, he could make out the silhouette of a massive building against the dark sky.
“I think I found the place,” Arnav murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll have to leave the car here, Aman. There’s no way I’m getting it through to the estate. Have someone tow it, or better yet—just sue the dealership.”
Arnav shoved his phone into his pocket after ending the call. He grunted as he shifted the car into neutral, pushing it from the driver’s side window, steering it off the main road and into a patch of bushes. He stepped back, surveying his handiwork. This should do. It was out of the way and nestled into the copse where it belonged, he thought mutinously.
Dusting his hands, he grabbed his bag, locked the car, and set off down the narrow path. The dark silhouette of the Mahal loomed higher into the heavens as he drew closer. Lights flickered on as he passed through a set of wrought-iron gates.
“What the—”
He squinted against the sudden brightness. Motion-sensor lights blinked to life at the entrance, casting a sharp glow that reached the high stone walls.
This surprised him. He knew the place had undergone some mild renovations (thanks to Nani’s insistence), just enough to make it habitable. But he hadn’t expected new-age technology to invade the space. His grandmother probably wouldn’t be happy about it, but at the moment, he wasn’t complaining. After all, he wasn’t in the mood to set a log on fire and roam about like a caveman.
Darting forward, he reached the ornate double doors and pulled out the large keys hooked onto a thick circle. Mentally making a note to change the locks, he inserted one of the keys into the integrated lock. The click echoed sharply in the stillness as he pushed the doors open. They creaked against the hinges as he stepped inside.
Arnav paused, his eyes widening with wonder. The furnishings and grandeur were immaculate, illuminated only by the soft glow of the entryway lights outside. The air was thick and stale, untouched by time, as though frozen in a bygone era. This place was old, standing tall since the nineteenth century. He had acquired it reluctantly, all thanks to Nani-ji’s insistence.
"My dying wish, Chotte... Can’t you fulfill your Nani’s only dream?"
He remembered snorting at the word “dying,” especially when Nani had hopped off her chair with surprising vigor after he flat-out refused. The argument that followed was something he didn’t care to reminisce about.
Turns out, his grandfather had desperately tried to buy this land for half a century but had failed. The reason, as Arnav was told, was that the land had “called to his grandfather—a promise unfulfilled.”
The hounding became so unbearable that Arnav caved, if only to escape Nani’s relentless glowering. He was here tonight to satisfy his mild curiosity; if it hadn’t been for the meeting with the Singhanias onsite, he would never have bothered venturing so far from the city.
With his footsteps muffled on the carpet, Arnav stepped into the living space. A large chandelier glittered above him. He glanced around for the light switch and eventually found it near the grand staircase that led to the upper floors.
The lights flickered on, and the chandelier only partially lit up, but it was enough to illuminate the splendor around him. He paused for a moment to admire his surroundings. Shades of crimson and gold clashed beautifully, further enhanced by the intricate furnishings that, though dated, still held an old-world charm.
The phone rang, its echoes chiming against the old brick walls. “Yes, Aman?”
"Did you find the place, Sir?"
“I did. Send my appreciation to the people who maintain it. The interiors are immaculate. I don’t think we need to renovate further.”
"What do you mean, immaculate? No one’s stepped foot in that place since the 90s. The recent renovations have only been done on the exteriors."
Arnav paused, his mind reeling. “That’s impossible. The place looks too well cared for. Not a speck of dust in sight.”
"Hmm, perhaps my sources were wrong. Maybe there’s a local maintaining it. I don’t have any record of it, but they could just be good Samaritans."
“I highly doubt that,” Arnav muttered. “This place is enormous. I haven’t explored the whole Mahal yet, but I’ll keep you posted.”
Arnav bid goodbye and headed up the stairs. Marveling at his decision of acquiring the place, he entered a vast hallway. The same decor spread the walls here in hues of reds and golds, the lamps turned on with a single switch. He was told that electricity had been supplied by the board a few weeks ago. He didn’t expect the bulbs to be working, some flickered faintly but the rest served their purpose of illuminating the space just enough for him to navigate his way.
As he walked towards the end, he glanced at the doorways lining the walls on either side of him, leading to the interiors of the Mahal. When he reached the end of the hallway, he peered outside a large window and could see the entrance and the grounds below. The motion sensored lights were now off. The tall iron gates gleamed under the moonlight, surveying the skeletal forest that stood deadly silent and still.
“Yes, Aman,” Arnav answered the phone.
"Sir, unfortunately, I couldn’t find a tow truck at this hour. However, I can arrange for a helicopter to get you—"
“That won’t be necessary,” Arnav interrupted firmly. “This place is... incredible, to say the least. I’ll spend the night here.”
"Are you sure, sir? The inn isn’t too far from the Mahal. I can send you the address."
“No, I’m fine. It doesn’t matter. I already had dinner. And Aman—get me any information you can find about that ‘good Samaritan’. I’d like to personally thank them.”
Chan, chan, chan!
Arnav froze. “Aman, are you with someone?”
"No, sir," came the confused reply.
“Then what—”
Chan, chan, chan!
Arnav whipped his head around. The long hallway was empty, just as it had been on his way here. He darted forward, his steps purposeful as he peeked into every doorway. There was no one in sight.
“Hello?”
No answer.
Was his mind playing tricks on him?
The sound had stopped. He combed through the rest of the palatial space, finding everything exactly as it had been before—each room and hallway deserted.
Finally, he stopped his search. It was too late into the night, and the earlier meeting with the Singhanias had drained him of energy. Deciding to retire for the night, he picked a room that appeared the most carefully maintained.
When he opened the door, his gaze collided with a wide pair of dark eyes, glittering in the gloom. His peripheral vision caught flashes of red, but the figure seemed to shimmer around the edges, as if it were a figment of his imagination.
The silence was deafening.
Arnav quickly swung his hand toward the light switch, and the room was instantly illuminated by multiple lamps.
It was empty.
He took several deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart. He searched every corner—under the bed, inside the cupboard, and the bathroom. Nothing.
It would have been impossible for someone to have escaped so quickly. Perhaps he’d mistaken the glint of glass trinkets for a pair of eyes, and the unsettling shades of red had played tricks on his mind, conjuring up an image of a petite figure in red.
Letting out a frustrated sigh, Arnav loosened his tie and discarded his blazer. He opened his luggage, pulled out his night clothes, and set his laptop on the table.
The space wasn’t stuffy, which surprised him, given that all the windows were shut tight. But Arnav preferred to keep the air conditioning low at night, finding the chill air more comfortable.
He strode to the window and eased it open a few inches. A cool draft rushed in, and he inhaled deeply, letting the fresh air calm his senses. It was pitch dark outside, but he couldn’t help but wonder what the view would look like come morning.
Next, he explored the bathroom. It was a blend of Mughal, Awadhi, and British influences, with a large marble bathtub dominating the space. He twisted the tap, half-expecting it to sputter, but was relieved when clean water began flowing steadily, pooling at the bottom of the tub with a few gurgling bubbles.
Making a mental note to ask Aman for a heating coil in the morning, he strolled back into the bedroom and took off his shirt.
Then he heard it. A low gasp—a barely audible squeak of surprise—made him freeze. He whipped his head around, his eyes scanning the room, searching for the source.
The curtain by the open window rustled lightly. His eyes fixed on the window, his breath catching as he listened intently. The hem of the drapes brushed the floor with a soft, whispering sound. Why did it sound like a person... a woman?
Grabbing a decorative brass vase as a makeshift weapon, he tiptoed to the large drapes covering the windows and flung them open. Nothing. He repeated the process, with increasing frustration.
He ran a hand through his hair.You need rest, he thought, exhausted by his own trail of thoughts. After a quick bath, with the vase nestled close by, he stepped back into the bedroom. Running a towel through his hair, he checked his mail and made a few calls.
After what felt like an hour, he rubbed the fatigue out of his eyes. The large ornate bed looked inviting. His hand closed on the brass vase, feeling entirely stupid that it was his only defense, and yet, the thought of having it close comforted him. He got to his feet and collapsed onto the four-poster bed with a low groan.
Arnav woke with a start, the duvet slipping down his bare chest. A strange chill had descended over him, one he couldn’t explain. It wasn’t the usual cold from the air conditioning.
He glanced around, momentarily disoriented as he tried to place where he was. The morning light streamed brightly through the open window, and the distant chirping of birds filled the air. The absence of the usual city noises was both unsettling and oddly peaceful.
He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to absorb the tranquility. Despite the chill, he felt strangely at ease. It was the best sleep he’d had in years. How odd.
Slipping out of bed, he let the duvet fall away. A bird flapped its wings and landed by the open window, pausing to twitch its head in his direction. But as he approached, it took flight, disappearing into the morning light.
He stood by the window, looking down at the garden below. It was wild—creeping vines clung to the perimeter, and flowers of every shape and size bloomed in between. There were no signs of a professional gardener’s hand, yet it carried an untamed beauty. The space had been left to grow naturally, but there was an artistic touch to its arrangement, as though someone had been guiding its shape, giving it direction in a subtle, careful way.
Curiosity burned in him, a sharp, insistent need to understand. Why would the locals bother to maintain this place? He had to find out.
“Aman, send me the location of the Inn and clear my schedule for the day.”
