Falling Into Oblivion

Chapter 15: The village

As they stumbled through the dense forest, the trees parted to reveal an old village nestled in a misty valley. The sight stopped them both in their tracks. The houses were small, built of mud and thatch, with faded patterns etched into the walls. The streets were uneven, the paths illuminated by flickering lanterns hanging from crooked poles. Everything about the place felt like it belonged to another century.

The villagers, dressed in heavy, traditional clothing, seemed frozen in time. Men wore dhotis and turbans, while the women were draped in elaborate sarees with heavy jewelry that glinted eerily in the lantern light. They stopped whatever they were doing to stare, their expressions unreadable. A few whispered to one another in hushed tones, their words too faint to hear, but their unwavering gazes felt piercing.

Banhi's unease grew with every step. "Yeh jagah... kafi ajeeb lag rahi hai," she murmured under her breath, clutching her arms as if to shield herself.

Before she could say more, an elderly man emerged from one of the larger houses. His appearance was as striking as it was unsettling—he wore a flowing robe adorned with symbols Banhi didn't recognize, and his wrinkled face bore a smile that stretched unnaturally wide. His sharp, piercing eyes scanned them both as he approached. This, Banhi assumed, must be the village chief.

"Aap kaun hain? Aur yahan kaise aaye?" he asked, his voice calm but probing. There was a peculiar cadence to his words that made Banhi uneasy.

Before Banhi could respond, Danish stepped forward, his usual smugness intact. "Hum dono...," he began, letting the pause linger, his smirk widening. "Mangetar hain." He glanced at Banhi, daring her to contradict him.

"Kya?!" Banhi's voice rose in shock, her cheeks flushing red with anger. "Nahi, hum bhai-behen hain!" She crossed her arms and shot him a furious glare.

Danish's smirk faded, replaced by a cold, warning glare. He stepped closer to Banhi and hissed under his breath, "Hum mangetar hain. Agar tum aur kuch boli, toh dekh lena, Banhi."

Banhi opened her mouth to argue but faltered under his glare. Her hands clenched into fists, frustration simmering dangerously close to the surface.

The chief, oblivious to their tension, nodded with a smile that somehow felt too wide. "Acha, toh aap log yahan shayad bhatak gaye honge," he said, his tone oddly pleasant.

Danish seized the opportunity to steer the conversation. "Haan," he said smoothly, his confidence returning. "Hum cliff ke paas se guzar rahe the, aur ek chhota sa accident hua. Raste mein yahan aa gaye."

The villagers began murmuring among themselves again, their voices low but insistent, their eyes flitting between Banhi and Danish. Banhi felt their stares prickling her skin, as though they were peeling away her outer layers to see what lay beneath. She instinctively moved closer to Danish, her anger warring with her unease.

"Yeh log kafi ajeeb lag rahe hain," she whispered, her voice trembling. She hated herself for moving closer to him, but the oppressive atmosphere left her no choice. The villagers' scrutinizing stares made her feel like a trespasser in a place she didn't belong.

Danish noticed her unease but didn't comment. Instead, he turned his attention back to the chief, who was still smiling his unsettlingly wide smile. "Aap pehle kuch khana kha lijiye," the chief offered warmly, gesturing towards one of the larger houses. "Fir hum aapki madad karenge."

"Nahi, hume abhi nikalna chahiye," Banhi interjected, her voice firm despite the tremor underneath. She tugged at Danish's arm, her desperation to leave evident. "Danish, chalo."

But Danish barely acknowledged her. Flashing his most charming smile, he replied, "Hum khaane ke liye rukenge. Shukriya."

"Danish!" Banhi hissed, pulling harder at his arm. "Yeh jagah mujhe safe nahi lag rahi."