The Ultimate Verdict

1. The Enigmatic Tales

14th January 2022,
Weston St., Bowbazar,
Kolkata.

The sinister silence of the ungodly hours was injecting a doze of apprehension in the blood vessels of all the courageous entities. The howling of a dog appeared to offer its grievance over some inauspicious occurrences. The time seemed to tick at it's own pace, alike it always does, yet again testifying it's consistency.

The cramped room with a green door, fixed to it's greyish walls had. A wall had a small aperture in it, which allowed insufficient amount of air in. The reeking room could barely be evacuated with this ventilation. In the list of furniture it only had a small wooden bed without mattress on it. A man's hands were tied up to the bed posts and he lay down on the bed, his sense meekly registering the occurrences. It's been a while now, he has been trying to open his fatigued eyelids and gauge his surroundings. He strained to moved his tied up frame towards the door of the room, overhead; but immediately he felt a sharp pang on his shoulder joints.

His petite frame was profusely sweating. After a while he noticed a manly figure walk towards him. He was probably decked up in a tuxedo. One of his hands were tucked in his pocket and his other hand had an object, a sharp object. The tungsten bulb glowing behind him darkened his face avoiding the man to get a clear glimpse. He closed the door barring the light that provided a opaque outline of his figure. He walked to him, stood overhead to his position. His hand that held an object neared towards him. The scanty moonlight that peered into the room via the small ventilation, made him acknowledge that the man had a knife. He had an adrenaline rush and wanted to vent a shrill noise from her vocals instead ended up coughing due to the dryness created in his throat. He could feel the sharp edge of the knife piercing his perspiring skin. A drop of helplessness eluded from the edges of his eyelids. 

The knife moved across his neck and a pool of blood oozed from the cut. During the initial seconds he gasped, making failed attempts to breathe and finally his body fell like a corpse. "Another vile dies on it's birthday. But I'm still waiting to dissolve your existence from this world my boy," he snarled.

14th, January 1996,
Chandanpukur, Barrackpore,
Kolkata.                                                                                                                                   
The flickering street lights that eventually lost it's glow had spread scanty brightness in the ambience a moment ago, probably endeavouring to light up a speck of hope in the hearts of the survivors of an apocalypse that the nature had been venting out on it's infants. The vacated streets exaggerated loneliness, meanwhile, the rustling noise of the incessant flowing water reigned the atmosphere.

Although all and sundry nuances of the nature displayed the traits of healing after the torrential downpour yet the Roy Chaudhary mansion was engulfed in it's own quirky enigma. The sophisticated walls of the mansion seemed to bellow outnumbered mysteries which claimed to be liberated from the decades old imprisonment.

As the clouds steadily dissipated, progressing further to reach their ultimate destination; the splendour of the crescent moon became quite prominent in the night sky. Binoy sank in the couch in his chamber and rolled his head behind, trying to assemble his disoriented muses in a descending order, amidst an unknown havoc in his heart.

The day had been quite eventful for the Roy Chaudhary mansion residents. Shubhra's shrill scream of the labour pain echoed in the mansion, whereas Trilochan was brisking back and forth, impatiently waiting for the further occurrences to happen in accord. He couldn't risk anything, when his Shubhra bahu was screaming for her dear life and eventually at the end of these agonizing events he would be given the opportunity to witness the angelic face of the new born. He quickly decided his next course of actions.