Shadows of the Banyan Tree” 

Part V: The Forgotten River

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Arun and Anjali’s quest to unravel Prakash and Meera’s story brought them to the banks of the river Sameer had mentioned. The river, once a vital lifeline for the village, was now a shadow of its former self. Its waters, once pristine and abundant, had receded, leaving behind patches of dry, cracked earth.

“It must have been beautiful back then,” Anjali said, her gaze scanning the landscape.

Arun nodded. “And it was here their story came to an end—or so we’ve been told.”

Determined to explore the site further, they wandered along the riverbank, looking for any clues that might offer a glimpse into the past. As they walked, an old woman approached them, her frail frame supported by a wooden cane.

“You’re looking for something?” she asked, her voice quivering but sharp.

Arun and Anjali exchanged glances before Arun replied, “Yes, Dadi. We’re trying to learn about what happened to two people—Prakash and Meera—many years ago.”

The woman’s face softened. “Prakash and Meera… their love was the kind you hear about in stories. But the world wasn’t kind to them.”

“Did you know them?” Anjali asked.

“I was a child then,” the woman said. “But I remember the day they tried to cross the river. The zamindar’s men caught them. My father worked for the zamindar. He told me they were taken back to the estate. No one saw them after that.”

“Do you know what happened to them?” Arun asked, his voice steady despite the knot in his stomach.

The woman hesitated, her eyes clouded with memories. “Some say the zamindar locked them away, that they died in his dungeons. Others believe they were thrown into the river, their love and lives swept away by the current. But the truth? Only the river knows.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with sorrow. Arun thanked her before she hobbled away, leaving them alone by the river.

“That’s it, then,” Anjali said, her voice tinged with frustration. “We’re back to speculation. No proof, no closure.”

Arun stared at the river, its waters shimmering under the afternoon sun. “Maybe we’re not meant to find closure,” he said. “Maybe the uncertainty is part of their story. It forces us to imagine, to remember, to keep their love alive in our hearts.”

As they left the river, Arun couldn’t shake the feeling that they were missing something—a key detail that tied everything together.

RAJAT CHANDRA SARMAH

GUWAHATI,ASSAM ,INDIA

13/01/2025