The Beautiful Ghost

Chapter two

The village was a short drive from the house down winding rural roads. Shah Rukh was thankful to leave the stillness of the old place behind him, even if only temporarily, as questions swirled in his mind. Pulling up to a nondescript shopfront, he stepped out into the bustling afternoon market.

Bright fabrics and hanging baskets lent life and color, a stark contrast to the shadows he had just emerged from. Approaching an elder sweeping his porch, Shah Rukh inquired politely, "Good afternoon ji, I'm new to the area - could you point me to someone well-versed in local history?"

The man eyed him shrewdly. "You must be the fellow bought that big haunted house up on the hill. Everyone's been talking!" He directed Shah Rukh to a tiny temple on the outskirts. "Our priest knows more stories than any book. Maybe he can shed light on what you encountered."

With a sincere thanks, Shah Rukh continued on his way. The little temple was enveloped in a serene calm, birdsong and incense wavering on the breeze. A wizened figure knelt tending flowers, and sensing a presence looked up with a gentle smile. "Welcome, my son. How can I assist in your journey?"

Wasting no time, Shah Rukh explained his strange visions and discovery of Kajol's portrait. The priest nodded sagely as if expecting this. "That home has held sorrow for many decades now. Please, come sit - I will share what happened, in hopes it provides you solace."

Settling cross-legged before him, Shah Rukh listened intently as the story unfurled. In the 1940s, the house had been owned by a passionate young couple - Kajol, a beauty beloved by the village, and her new husband Vikram, a wealthy businessman. But beneath Vikram's charm lay a jealous, abusive nature. Over time, his attacks on Kajol escalated in cruelty.

One fateful night, after years of torment, a drunken Vikram flew into a rage and brutally murdered Kajol in her bedroom. Her gentle spirit was never able to find peace, haunting the scene of her demise. In the following years, villagers often saw her melancholy form observing the gardens at night, or heard the strains of her favored songs whispered on the wind.

The house was long left abandoned, a shrine to tragedy. But now, Kajol's presence seemed to be reaching out through Shah Rukh, pleading for aid in herearthly torment. The priest's wise eyes bored into him. "Her soul remains tethered to that place of violence. You have been brought there for a reason, my son - you must help set her free."

A chill gripped Shah Rukh's heart at the sorrowful tale. He understood now what he must do. "Thank you for enlightening me. I will do everything in my power to help Kajol find peace." Bidding farewell to the priest with respect, he drove back to the house with renewed purpose as dusk fell.

That night, as pale moonlight filtered through familiar halls, Shah Rukh sat vigil with incense and prayer. Time slipped away as his trance-like meditation deepened, until a glimmer in his peripheral pulled his mind back. Turning slowly, there beside the window was the misty silhouette of Kajol, watching him with mournful eyes. 

"Please, come closer so we may speak," he entreated gently. After a long moment, her form drifted nearer, light as smoke. Though pained, her voice was tender as she spoke. "You know my story now. For over half a century I have wandered these rooms, unable to flee the memories that haunt me."

Shah Rukh listened with empathy and care, learning the depth of her suffering. "There must be a way to release you. Will you allow me to help?" Kajol's flickering eyes conveyed eons of anguish, but also a stirring of hope that had long laid dormant. "I place my faith in you."

A pale glow on the horizon heralded the coming dawn as Shah Rukh padded softly down the creaking staircase. Though physically exhausted from a night of restless thought, his mind buzzed with questions that would only find answers through further interaction with the spectral woman.