In the heart of a remote village in Rajasthan, there stood an ancient banyan tree, older than anyone in the village could remember. The locals called it "Vishwas Ka Ped" (Tree of Faith). It was said to hold secrets—secrets of the village, of those who once lived, and those who never left.
For years, nothing unusual happened in the village of Jhadola. Life was simple, predictable even. Farmers plowed their fields, children played in the dusty streets, and the village elders sat under the banyan, sharing tales of their youth.
But one night, something changed.
It was a full moon night when a 22-year-old woman named Meera went missing. Meera was known for her beauty, her sharp mind, and her curious nature. She would often spend her afternoons near the banyan tree, reading or simply sitting in its shade, staring up at its twisted branches, as if she were trying to unravel its mysteries.
The night she disappeared, the villagers heard a strange, chilling sound—like the wind whispering through the banyan’s leaves, though there was no wind that night. Meera had been seen walking towards the tree just before dusk, but by the time her family realized she hadn't returned, it was too late.
Her father, Ram Kishore, frantically searched the village with a lantern in hand. He approached the banyan tree, his heart racing. There was nothing there, only the eerie stillness of the night and the long shadows cast by the tree. The villagers, too, joined the search, but by morning, there was no sign of Meera. Her disappearance shook the quiet village, and whispers began circulating—whispers of something lurking under the roots of the banyan.
As days passed, strange occurrences began to unfold. Villagers reported hearing low whispers when they passed by the banyan, as if someone, or something, was calling out to them. Some claimed they saw shadowy figures moving between the branches at night, while others said the tree's roots seemed to grow larger with each passing day.
Ram Kishore was determined to find his daughter. He sought the help of the village’s oldest elder, Dadaji, a man who had lived through more storms and droughts than anyone else. Dadaji hesitated when Ram Kishore asked for his help. “The banyan hides more than it reveals,” he said gravely. “It is not just a tree—it is a portal to the past.”
According to Dadaji, the tree had witnessed tragedies over centuries. Many had vanished near its roots, taken by the spirits who still lingered. The banyan’s whispers were said to be those of souls trapped between this world and the next. It was not the first time someone had disappeared beneath its dark branches.
Desperate, Ram Kishore organized a group of villagers to dig beneath the tree, hoping to uncover the truth. Armed with shovels and torches, they began digging at the base of the banyan. As they dug, the whispers grew louder, almost deafening. Suddenly, one of the diggers’ shovels hit something hard—wood. It wasn’t a root but the door to an ancient underground chamber.
As they pried open the door, a cold, damp air rushed out, and they descended into the dark, narrow tunnel. What they found was a small, forgotten temple hidden beneath the banyan. At the center of the temple was an idol—an old, weathered figure of a forgotten deity. Surrounding the idol were several small, weather-beaten dolls. Meera’s dupatta (scarf) lay draped over one of them.
The villagers were horrified. Dadaji explained that centuries ago, a cursed ritual had taken place in the village. A sorcerer, angered by the villagers, had cursed the land, imprisoning innocent souls within the banyan, binding them to the tree in eternal torment. Each time the banyan claimed a new victim, it grew stronger.
Ram Kishore refused to believe that his daughter was gone forever. He pleaded with the spirits for her return. And then, as if in answer to his prayers, the whispers stopped.
The next morning, Meera was found at the base of the tree, unconscious but alive. She had no memory of what had happened to her after she reached the banyan that night. The whispers ceased, and the banyan stood silent once again.
But the villagers never forgot. They built a small shrine near the tree and performed rituals every year to honor the spirits trapped beneath its roots.
And though the banyan remained silent, the villagers knew its dark secrets, and the whispers of the past would never truly fade.
