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Rediscovery (standard:drama, 8400 words)
Author: Bobby ZamanAdded: Apr 08 2002Views/Reads: 1881/1152Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Two couples go on a trip to the tea gardens of Sylhet and encounter a secret at the bungalow where they stay.


by Bobby Zaman 

The glowworm shows the matin to be near... 

The Ghost Hamlet i.v. 

After hours of darkness and just the headlamps of the car leading us
forward, we saw the lights from the bungalow. Arif had been driving for 
the last four hours. I was in the passenger seat, and in back were his 
new bride Shaila, and my girlfriend Amanda. 

“So how haunted is this place?” asked Shaila. 

“It’s not haunted at all,” said Arif, “will you get over it already.” 

“Nabeel said his aunt saw ghosts, didn’t she?” Shaila asked me. 

“That was a long time ago,” I said. “Besides, the women in my family
have an affinity for the things of the “other world,” so to speak. They 
psych themselves to see and hear things.” 

“Your mom doesn’t seem like the superstitious type,” said Amanda. 

Amanda and I had been together about a year. We all lived in Chicago,
and had gone to Dhaka to attend Arif and Shaila’s wedding. The ceremony 
being a success, none of us were ready to go back to the wear and tear 
of everyday life. My father offered us the use of his bungalow in 
Sylhet and we jumped on it. It was two days before New Year’s, and 
instead of the usual revelry we decided to sneak away to the tea 
gardens for a quiet few days, to be surrounded only by hills adorned 
with tea plants and the natural cycle of day and night. 

“So this place isn’t haunted?” said Shaila. 

“I sure hope it is, for your sake, honey,” said Arif, “I think we need
to put you out of your misery.” 

“I think you told me this story once,” said Amanda. 

“I did,” said I. 

“I’m not sure. But you told me about your family going to the tea
gardens when you were younger and lived in Dhaka, and something about 
your aunt seeing someone, I don’t know, I can’t remember. Was that 

“Oh, I remember which story you’re talking about. Yes, that was here.” 

“Can we hear it again?” asked Shaila. 

“Sure,” I said, “whatever I can remember.” 

An hour later we were had cleaned up and had dinner. As far back as I
can remember the bungalow had only one caretaker. Nilkantha was his 
name, and he was the quintessence of industriousness and loyalty. 
Amanda, after having trouble pronouncing our host’s name shortened it 
to Nil, and, thereafter, Nil he was to us all. 

After dinner we gathered in the veranda and sipped the best tea in the
world while we talked. 

“How often did your family come here?” Arif asked. 

“Every winter, right around this time,” I said, “It’s way too hot in the
summer, and there really isn’t much going on. This time of year the 
locals have all kinds of religious festivals. You can actually hear 
them sometimes at night.” 

“So I guess this is kind of a honeymoon for us?” Shaila said. “Not to
say that we’re not going to the Bahamas as we’ve already planned.” 

Arif nodded his head and drank his tea. 

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