Putul Bari

The house is built in a classic Bengali Zamindar style, standing in profound silence. The entire structure seems to whisper stories of the past. No one lives here anymore. It is surrounded by thick woods on all sides; only the occasional chirp of a bird breaks the stillness. Suddenly, a sharp noise rang out. It seemed to come from the third rafter on the left side of the second floor.

As soon as we entered, everyone’s eyes were drawn to a photograph. It appeared to be a portrait of the person who once owned this house. Everyone became preoccupied with the picture. There were four of us in total. While their attention was elsewhere, a book fell from a shelf. I picked it up. The title read, "Putul Bari" (The Dollhouse). Upon opening it, I found a picture of a girl. She was breathtakingly beautiful. I went to show it to the others, only to find they had already headed downstairs. So, I tucked the book into my bag and followed them. Together, we explored the rest of the grounds. The house was truly enveloped by the wilderness.

Day 2

The house has been abandoned for a long time. The cracks in the walls and the vines crawling through them tell that story clearly. Behind the house, there is a stone-paved pond. The water has become quite murky over the years. Many trees line the edge of the pond. The main entrance of the house is grand. It feels as though there was once a magnificent flower garden in the front.

That was all for that day. The house is quite impressive; our new film will be shot here. Within two days, the cleaning work began.

Day 4

A meeting was held regarding the arrangements for the film. Everyone was busy discussing and sharing their opinions. But I didn't feel like participating at all. My mind kept wandering back to that house. It felt as if someone was calling me from within its walls.

Returning home at night, I freshened up and sat down with my laptop. I started watching a video we had filmed at the house the day before. Suddenly, I noticed something in a corner of the screen. In the entire house, only one room was padlocked. No other room was locked like that. I called someone and found out that the room had been locked for a very long time.

The road leading to the house passes through a small village. The villagers apparently never go near that house. Even when we were there, they warned us not to go near that specific locked room. When I asked why, no one gave me a straight answer. Strangely, when I was at the house on the morning of the 4th, I didn't even notice that room. Perhaps I wasn't looking closely enough.

A little later, I sat down with the book I found. Just as I was about to open it, I heard my mother calling from downstairs. There was a small gathering at our house that day, and all our relatives were chatting and having a good time. I put the book away and joined them. Later, when I went to bed, I couldn't sleep. Strange thoughts kept racing through my mind. Eventually, unable to rest, I went up to the roof for a walk. Even though I wanted to go back to that house, I knew my mother wouldn't allow it. I decided I would go first thing tomorrow morning.

Day 5

I went back to the house early the next morning. It’s autumn now, and there was a light mist in the air. The wild Bengali flowers inside the grounds were in full bloom, looking quite lovely. Since the house had been cleaned, its true beauty was finally shining through. I wanted to explore the whole place again, but decided against it for the moment.

I went straight to the roof. From there, the surroundings looked exquisite. There were some old chairs and a table already there. Perhaps the master of the house used to sit here, sipping tea and enjoying the view. I sat there too, mimicking that imagined routine, enjoying the scene. The light mist, the cool breeze, and the birdsong made it feel like heaven. My heart felt full. After finishing my tea, I opened the book. On the first page, there was a date and a name: 1950.

I began to read. The story started in autumn—the season when the tips of new paddy stalks sway in the breeze. In the deep blue sky, white clouds like carded cotton floated by. Both sides of the river and the roads were covered in white Kaash flowers. The Hindu villagers were busy preparing for Durga Puja. The potters were crafting the idols. In this village, Hindus and Muslims lived together in harmony, celebrating every festival together, be it Puja or Eid.

Suddenly, my phone rang. It was our film manager. He told me they wouldn't be coming today for some reason. That meant there would be no work on the film today. I had been reading the book for a long time, but after the phone call, I lost my focus. I decided to walk around inside the house instead.

As I walked, I remembered the locked room. Without thinking, I walked up to it. Just as I reached for the door, I remembered the villagers' warning. I hesitated, wondering if it was right to enter. But I didn't have the key anyway. My mind kept telling me that being here alone wasn't a good idea. So, I left the house and headed toward the village.

The villagers were busy with their own lives; no one seemed to notice me. I had heard that the locals don't particularly like outsiders, though I didn't know why. As I was walking through the village alone, a woman suddenly approached me. "Hey girl, what are you doing here? Whose house are you visiting? Who are you looking for?" she asked.

"No one," I replied, "I was just wandering around."

"It's fine that you're here now, but go home soon and don't wander too much. No one stays out here after evening. This place isn't good. Go home now."

I told her, "I came to that Zamindar house nearby. I wanted to know something about it."

Hearing this, the woman looked at me strangely. I couldn't understand her expression. I noticed she wasn't the only one; everyone was staring at me in a peculiar way. Then, a girl about my age took me to her house. She asked me to sit down, gave me some water and snacks, and then asked, "Why did you go to that house?"

"Our new film is being shot at that Zamindar house," I explained. "That’s why I was there. But why are you alone?"

"Actually, there was a problem today, so the rest of the team couldn't come."

"I see."

"It would be better if you didn't go to that 'Putul Bari' anymore," she said seriously.

"But why? And why did you call it Putul Bari? Isn't it a Zamindar house?"

"No, it's not a Zamindar house. Many years ago, when the Zamindari system was fading, some were Zamindars in name only. This house dates back to that time."

"Then whose house is it?"

"I don't know exactly, but I’ve heard that a girl's soul haunts that house."

"A soul?" I laughed. "Do you really believe in that?"

"I used to be like you," she said, her voice turning grave. "I didn't believe it either. But who can deny what they see with their own eyes?"

"What happened?"

"I study away from here, so I don't know everything that happens in the village. But once, during a holiday, something happened."

"What was it?"

"One day, three boys came to visit that house. Just like you, they made a joke of the whole thing. One of them, under the influence of something, broke the lock of that room. Nothing happened that night or the next day, and the villagers started to think the house wasn't haunted after all. But then, around 1:00 or 2:00 in the morning, a piercing scream was heard. In the morning, it was discovered that one of the three had fallen from the roof and died. A trusted 'Kobiraj' (spiritual healer) was brought in. It was his father or grandfather who had originally locked that door."

"He said that the spirit was very ancient and wouldn't leave the house. He warned that if the rest of the boys weren't moved away immediately, the spirit would kill everyone in the village. So they were kept in the house..."

"Wait, the healer kept them in the house even knowing the spirit would kill them?"

"No, no, the healer gave them protective charms (Tabiz)."

"Oh, I see. What happened next?"

"The charms didn't work. The next night, the healer and the villagers gathered at the house. I went to watch too. The healer performed many rituals. After a while, right in front of everyone, the spirit grabbed one of the boys by the feet, dragged him away, and threw him into the pond!"

"Didn't anyone try to save him?"