The Horror of Nandighati

Into the Past

Ashudev sat silently on the plane, the hum of the engines blending into the background. His mind was elsewhere, fixed on the journal he held tightly in his hands. The worn pages held the secret to breaking the curse that haunted his family, a curse he had little time to unravel if he wished to save himself from its clutches. He flipped through the pages again, searching for some hidden clue about the mysterious place he sought—Nandighati.

The location wasn’t marked on any map. It was as though it didn’t exist, or perhaps had been purposefully hidden, tucked away from the world’s knowledge. Yet, Ashudev was determined. Failure wasn’t an option. His future, his very life, was at stake. He examined each picture attached to the pages, scrutinizing every detail, hoping to find something—anything—that would guide him.

Hours passed. His eyes strained from reading, and exhaustion began to creep in. He tried to rest, but sleep was elusive. Whenever he closed his eyes, nightmares clawed at his mind. Dark, twisted dreams that left him drenched in sweat. Yet tonight, his dream was different.

This time, he saw the village—the one from his family’s history. It was vibrant and alive, bustling with people. He watched them laugh, talk, and go about their daily lives, seemingly unaware of any danger. The beauty of the scene struck him, the tranquility so vivid that it felt like a memory from another lifetime.

But just as quickly as the peace settled in, it shattered. Ashudev saw himself entering the village, and the moment his foot crossed its boundary, everything changed. The once-lively villagers turned dark, ghostly figures with hollow eyes. They began to scream, their voices full of anguish. In an instant, they pounced on him, tearing at his flesh. He tried to scream, but his voice wouldn’t come. The pain was unbearable. His body writhed as he fought to wake up, but he couldn’t break free from the nightmare. It was only when a blinding flash of light pierced his vision that he woke with a start.

He screamed aloud in terror, his voice echoing through the cabin. Passengers around him jumped in fright, some scrambling to shake him awake. Their voices merged into a chaotic swirl as they tried to calm him down. Despite their efforts, Ashudev remained trapped between dream and reality, unable to shake the suffocating fear that gripped his chest. It wasn’t until he saw the bright lights of the airport through the window that he fully awoke.

The plane had landed. His body felt heavy, his mind foggy as he disembarked. Before he could leave, a doctor was called to check on him. Ashudev barely paid attention as the physician examined him, noting strange, green swollen spots on his body. "You need treatment for this," the doctor said, but Ashudev shook his head. He refused further examination, requesting only medication before insisting on leaving. His thoughts were fixed on one thing—finding Nandighati.

After collecting his things, Ashudev boarded a bus to Gnoyam, the heart of the state of Purmak. The ride took him through a breathtaking countryside filled with rolling hills and lush greenery. For the first time in days, he allowed himself to relax and enjoy the peaceful scenery. Yet even as he admired the beauty outside the window, the sense of urgency gnawed at him. Time was running out.

Gnoyam was a sprawling city, a bustling hub of activity. After arriving, Ashudev wasted no time asking the locals about Nandighati. Yet no one seemed to know anything about the village. It was as though the place was nothing more than a myth. But one elderly man offered a clue. “There is an old man who has lived here since before this city was even built,” he said. “If anyone knows about Nandighati, it’s him.”

With a renewed sense of hope, Ashudev hurried to the address he had been given. The house was small and weathered, a relic of a time long gone. He knocked on the door, and moments later, an ancient figure appeared. Ashudev introduced himself quickly, showing the man the photographs from the diary.

The old man sighed, his wrinkled face clouding with sorrow. “Going there is not worth the risk,” he whispered, his voice quivering. “It’s a one-way trip. Once you enter, there’s no coming back.”

Ashudev frowned. “But I have to go. If I don’t solve the mystery, my future will be destroyed.”

The old man stared at him with haunted eyes. “I’ve seen horrors that no man should see. I lost many loved ones to him.”

“To him? Who do you mean?” Ashudev asked, his voice rising.

The old man looked at him with a hollow expression. “Someone from your family... someone you know.” His voice trailed off.

“Who is it? My great-grandfather?” Ashudev pressed, but the old man fell silent, his gaze distant.

Suddenly, the old man’s face hardened, and he turned to Ashudev. “You want to know where the village is, don’t you?” Without waiting for a reply, he took a piece of paper and scribbled something on it. He handed it to Ashudev. “Here. This is the location of Nandighati.”

Ashudev nodded and thanked him, though a strange chill passed through him. As he left the house, the old man’s body slumped, as though life had drained from him in that very moment.

Outside, Ashudev hailed a taxi and made his way to the coordinates. The road was long and winding, surrounded by eerie silence. The taxi driver stopped abruptly. “This is as far as I can go,” he said, his voice uneasy. “From here, you’ll have to walk.”

Ashudev paid the driver and stepped out, his pulse quickening as he began the journey on foot. The dream replayed in his mind, the same road, the same village. He feared that everything he had seen would unfold before him, but nothing happened as he walked. Only silence.

Finally, he reached a faded sign overhead that read, Welcome to Nandighati. As he crossed the threshold, a wave of unease washed over him. The air felt thick, heavy with an invisible weight. Even though the village was beautiful, the atmosphere made his heart race, adrenaline pumping through his veins.

The village itself appeared inhabited, with new residents living in homes that seemed untouched by time. As night began to fall, Ashudev sought out his family’s house. A local directed him to it, confirming that someone still lived there.

After climbing a steep hill, he found it—a grand but aging home. He knocked on the door, and a young girl opened it.

“Who are you?” Ashudev asked, surprised.

“I am Nishukriti,” she replied softly.

A voice called from inside. “Nishukriti, who is it?”

“An unknown brother has come,” she replied.

Moments later, a man appeared at the door. He looked at Ashudev with recognition. “Who are you?”

Ashudev explained himself, showing the man the photographs. The man’s eyes widened in shock before he pulled Ashudev into a tight embrace. “Welcome home, nephew,” he said warmly. “You’ve come a long way. Let’s talk tomorrow. For now, rest.”

Exhausted, Ashudev accepted the hospitality, grateful for the food and the bed offered to him. Tomorrow, he would uncover the truth. Tonight, he could finally sleep.