Chapter 20
The clock ticked softly in the darkness.
3:30 a.m.
Aariv’s eyes fluttered open half by instinct, half by the strange heaviness that had settled in his heart.
He blinked into the dim light filtering through the curtains.
He saw that Veeransh still hadn’t come back.
He sat up slowly, his heartbeat oddly uneven, like something deep inside was pulling him to move to find answers. The silence of the haveli wrapped around him, broken only by the faint rustle of the trees outside.
Without overthinking, he rose and went to the washroom.
The air felt colder than usual when his feet touched the marble floor.
He washed his face, dressed quietly, and opened the door careful not to make even the slightest sound. Every creak in the floor felt louder than thunder in that hushed hour.
As he stepped into the corridor, he glanced once toward the study. The faint yellow glow that had been burning through the night was gone now.
He didn’t know whether to feel relieved or uneasy.
Downstairs, the entire haveli was asleep. The grand chandeliers hung silent, the air thick with stillness.
Only the ticking of the antique wall clock reminded him that time was still moving.
He reached the main door. The two guards standing outside straightened instantly at the sight of him.
“aap itni jaldi?” one of them whispered in surprise.
Aariv hesitated for a moment but then said softly, “Mujhe mandir jaana hai… abhi.”
The guards exchanged a quick glance unsure, yet unwilling to disobey the young master’s spouse.
“Ji… abhi?” one asked hesitantly.
Aariv nodded, his eyes calm but determined.
“Darwaza kholo.”
The taller guard unlocked the heavy iron gate slowly, the metallic sound echoing faintly through the courtyard.
Aariv wrapped his shawl tighter around himself and stepped outside.
The early morning wind hit his face sharp, cold, and almost alive. The sky was still dark, but faint lines of gray stretched across the horizon.
He took a deep breath and opened Google Maps on his phone, tracing the route to the Shiv Kaal Mandir, the same ancient temple where he had seen Pandit Harinarayan going every morning.
The road was empty. Only the crunch of his shoes on the gravel followed him as he walked past the sleeping village that surrounded the haveli. Dogs barked distantly, a temple bell rang faintly somewhere far away, and the moonlight bathed everything in a ghostly glow.
Each step felt heavier not because of the path, but because of the questions that wouldn’t leave his mind.
Who is Veeransh Rathore?
What is this curse that everyone is hiding?
And why… why does it feel like everything is connected to him?
After about half an hour of walking through narrow paths and deserted fields, he finally saw the tall shadow of the ancient temple, its shikhar rising against the dull gray dawn.
Aariv climbed the stone steps one by one, his heart pounding faster the closer he got.
Every sound every rustle of the leaves, every distant cry of an owl made him more certain that someone, or something, was watching him.
When he reached the top, he paused.
The heavy wooden doors of the temple stood half open.
And from inside, faint chants echoed rhythmic, ancient, like whispers through time.
Pandit Harinarayan’s voice.
Aariv stepped forward. His fingers brushed against the cool surface of the door, pushing it open just enough to peek inside.
The old pandit was sitting near the sanctum, his hands folded, eyes closed, lips moving rapidly in some unknown mantra.
Around him, the air shimmered faintly and Aariv’s eyes widened when he saw the same burnt symbol he’d found on the wall near his room, drawn in ash on the floor beside the pandit.
Aariv’s breath caught in his throat.
The moment he stepped inside, the chanting stopped.
Pandit Harinarayan opened his eyes slowly and seemed older than the man himself and said in a voice that felt like it had waited for years,
“Mujhe pata tha… tum aaoge, par itni jaldi.”
The temple bell rang once deep,
heavy, and final And the morning light broke across the horizon.
Aariv’s voice echoed across the hollow temple walls, trembling yet fierce with desperation.
“Ye sab kya ho raha hai? Kaisa shraap hai ye? Mai in sab mein kaise…? Ye… ye kya hai?”
The words came out broken, but the fear behind them was whole.
Pandit Harinarayan looked up from the mandala of ashes he’d drawn before the Shivling.
The flickering flame from a single diya lit his face from below half light, half shadow making him look like someone who existed between two worlds.
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he sprinkled a few drops of water over the ash, chanting under his breath. Aariv, trembling, took a step forward.
“Panditji!” he almost shouted, his voice echoing against the ancient stone walls. “Please… mujhe batayiye. What is happening in that haveli? Why does everyone hide it from me? Why...why do I see… things?”
The pandit’s hand froze mid air.
“Tumne… dekh liya?” he whispered, his eyes flicking sharply towards Aariv’s face.
Aariv nodded nervously. “Woh… woh saya jaisa kuchh. Room ke paas… aur uss purani band kamre ke darwaze par bhi woh nishaan… vo jale hue nishaan, vo awaaz”
The silence that followed was heavy thick enough to feel.
Pandit Harinarayan exhaled deeply, his voice dropping low.
“Phir samay aa gaya hai…”
Aariv frowned, “Kya matlab?”
The old man turned toward the Shivling and joined his hands.
“Hazaron saal pehle, iss zameen par ek vachan toda gaya tha. Ek prem tod diya gaya tha. Aur jahan vachan todte hain… wahan shraap janm leta hai.”
His words rolled through the temple, slow, deliberate, each syllable carrying the weight of centuries.
Aariv’s brows furrowed. “Aap keh rahe hai… ye sab kisi… vachan ke todne se hua?”
Harinarayan nodded. “Veeransh ke vansh ne ek paap kiya tha, ek paap jo aaj tak khud ko mita nahi saka. Har peedhi mein, ek atma laut kar aati hai… ussi parivaar ke kisi sadasya ko le jaane ke liye.”
Aariv’s heart skipped a beat. “Laut kar aati hai…? Matlab koi… koi atma…?”
Pandit’s gaze turned toward him, steady and unblinking.
“Haan, ek atma. Us aurat ki, jiska vachan toda gaya tha. Uski aatma band hai haveli ke andar. Aur jab koi bhi us ghar mein pyaar karta hai… ya kisi ke liye apna dil kholta hai… woh aatma jag jaati hai.ya phir jab bhi kisi vansh ki 27 saal ki aayu ho jaati hai aur vo ahvivahit hota hai ”
Aariv’s lips parted. His heartbeat pounded so loud it filled his ears.
“Pyaar…?” he whispered faintly.
Pandit nodded gravely.
“Jab bhi Rathore ghar mein kisi dil mein mohabbat paida hoti hai… woh aatma uss mohabbat ko tod deti hai. Kyunki uska apna pyaar toda gaya tha.”
The diya flickered violently, as if the air itself recoiled from the truth.
Aariv took a step back, his voice shaking.
“Toh… iska matlab… Veeransh…?”
Pandit Harinarayan looked down, then slowly met his gaze again.
“Veeransh woh hi hai jiski wajah se uska prem Tut gya tha."
The world seemed to tilt for Aariv.
“kya...?” he repeated in disbelief.
Harinarayan: haa aur kahi n kahi tum isme shamil ho.
Aariv felt the blood drain from his face. His fingers turned cold.
He lifted a copper plate and poured some holy water into Aariv’s hands.
“Yeh jal rakho. Aur yaad rakhna jab raat ki aakhri ghadi baje, kisi bhi haal mein purane darwaze ke paas mat jaana. Wahi uska dwar hai.”
Aariv stood frozen, the cool metal heavy in his trembling palms.
Outside, the sky had started to lighten. The first birds were calling.
The curse had been named but the meaning behind the pandit’s cryptic warning still clawed at his mind.
As Aariv turned to leave, Pandit Harinarayan’s final words followed him, echoing through the temple like a whisper from another world.
“Aur yaad rakhna, Aariv…
jitna tum Veeransh ke kareeb jaoge,
utna hi maut tumhare kareeb aayegi.par tum jitna dur jaaoge utni hi maut Veeransh ke Kareeb aayegi”.
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