Shamsherpur-er Jaamidarni

Prologue

The wind shrieked, tearing through the trees like a wild beast, its claws of rain lashing against the walls of the Jamindar bari. The storm had come without warning, sweeping over the village with a fury that turned the night into a swirling maelstrom. But within the towering walls of the mansion, the tempest seemed almost distant, as if the house itself stood defiant, immune to the forces battering at its gates.

This bari was a testament to an era long past, its grandeur untouched by time. The dark grain of polished wooden floors glowing faintly in the intermittent flashes of lightning. The chandeliers, though unlit, swayed gently, their crystals catching the occasional glimmer, a dance of light and shadow that seemed to mirror the storm’s turmoil.

Heavy drapes, rich and luxurious, hung in the windows, their deep hues of brown and gold adding a regal touch to the already opulent surroundings. The fabric barely moved, holding strong against the gusts that found their way in through the tiniest of cracks, as if guarding the secrets held within the house. In the courtyard, the rainwater pooled, creating a reflective sheen on the cobblestones that mirrored the occasional flicker of light from the sky.

The corridors, usually alive with the sounds of footsteps and voices, were now empty, their silence almost as oppressive as the storm outside. It was as if the bari itself was holding its breath, waiting for the storm to pass, or perhaps for something else entirely.

Suddenly, the sound of the hurried footsteps echoed through the eerie silence of the house, each step resonating off the dark wooden floor, amplifying the sense of urgency. The wide, sweeping corridor was bathed in darkness, the absence of electricity casting the majestic space into a shadowy abyss. The only light came from the occasional flash of lightning that seeped in through the grand windows, momentarily illuminating the polished wood-paneled walls adorned with antique portraits that seemed to watch silently.

As the footsteps quickened up the staircase, the air grew thick with an unspoken tension. The heavy, ornate doors of the master bedroom loomed ahead, barely visible in the dim light. The runner burst through the doorway, the sound of the door hitting the wall reverberating through the space.

Inside, the room was bathed in a soft, amber glow, the light from the lantern casting a warm, flickering radiance that danced over the polished wooden floor. The rich mahogany furniture stood proudly, their intricate carvings and ornate details revealed in the subtle interplay of light and shadow.

Velvet drapes, a deep shade of maroon, framed the tall windows, their folds heavy and regal, exuding an air of timeless elegance. A large four-poster bed dominated the space, its posts intricately carved with floral motifs that whispered of an era long past. The bedspread, an exquisite tapestry of gold and crimson, shimmered faintly, its delicate threads catching the lantern's glow. On a nearby table, an antique vase held a single wilted rose.

“Sheher?” A deep, resonant voice broke the silence, it reverberated through the stillness, heavy with urgency and desperation.

The figure in the room moved with a restless intensity. His tall frame, draped in a dark suit, cut a formidable silhouette against the lantern’s flickering light. His eyes darted around the room, scanning every shadowed corner with a fierce determination. Each movement was sharp, driven by a palpable tension that seemed to emanate from him.

His shoulders were tensed, his jaw clenched, betraying the strain of his search. His mind raced, grappling with a mix of fear and frustration that surged beneath his composed exterior. The urgency of his quest was mirrored in the rapid pacing of his footsteps, their echoes adding to the eerie ambiance of the dimly lit room.

The tense silence of the room was abruptly pierced by a soft whimper, causing the figure to freeze mid-step. His eyes narrowed, and a deep frown etched itself onto his face, revealing his mounting frustration and concern.With deliberate care, he held his breath, each step calculated as he approached the source of the sound.