Pitasha: Part I – The Hidden Eyes
Date: April 8, 2025 Author: Aman Choudhary
My name is Aman. I’m on a journey to become a writer. I was born on September 19, 2006, in Jaipur, Rajasthan. This story begins with an eerie whisper from the past—a tale called Pitasha, a story of shadows, fear, and things that lurk beneath the surface.
When you're a child, ghosts and monsters are used to scare you. Adults laugh at your fears, but something shifts when you grow older—they expect you to be afraid. As I reflect on it now, those fears aren’t always imaginary. Like they say: “If you light a lamp in a dark room, everything around it is bright—but beneath the lamp itself? It’s still dark.”
In 2001, the government decided to develop a park by clearing out a forest on the outskirts of the city—a place that felt more like a forgotten village than a proper town. It was beautiful, serene, and full of life. Flowers bloomed, tiny animals roamed freely, and we—my four closest friends and I—visited often.
My group included: Naman, Mohan, Bijki, VC, and me. VC was my closest companion. We always went to the park from 4:00 p.m. to 6:30 p.m., but eventually, it lost its charm. The park became crowded, and our moments of adventure faded.
Then one day, Mohan proposed a bold idea: “Let’s go at 4 in the morning.” Naman disagreed, saying even mornings were busy. But then he added, “Let’s go when the moon rises.” Although the park officially closed at 7 p.m., Naman knew a secret path—through the forest next to the park, where future construction was planned.
We agreed and set out under moonlight. As we crossed the dense jungle, I saw a glowing pair of eyes. I blacked out. Naman woke me up with water, and I ran, terrified. Later, I said it was just eyes—I couldn’t see anything else. Everyone brushed it off as a wild animal. We told no one. Life moved on.
Twenty years later, I was in Mumbai when I saw a disturbing news report—someone had vanished in the same park. I knew I couldn’t ignore it, and that old fear stirred inside me. I contacted my four old friends and suggested a trip back, but didn’t tell them the real reason.
The park had long shut down. I went ahead to learn more. The missing man hadn’t gone to the regular jungle—but deep inside the forbidden part that stretches nearly 500 km. We were always on its outer edge.
I made a plan to venture inside. The next morning, we entered the forest, thrilled by the adventure. After walking nearly 100 km, we found a small tribal village. They took us in, fed us, gave us shelter.
When we told them we planned to go deeper into the forest, their smiles vanished. One of them said: “There’s a creature in there. No one who sees it survives. All we know are its eyes.”
I froze. It matched the eyes I saw all those years ago.
Later, I revealed the truth to my friends. The missing man in the news was Mohan’s father. They had been estranged, and I hadn’t told Mohan when I saw the report to protect him. When he found out, he broke down.
Village elders warned us to leave. Mohan’s condition worsened. The police were informed and took us into custody. Before we left, I asked them about the creature’s name.
“It is called… Pitasha.”
They banned us from ever returning.
But we won’t give up. Not yet.
