The ghost realm was probably as real as the reality that Batakrishna and Mira dwelled in, the stretch of dense defenceless forest surrounding them, but the difference was that reality was only real when one lives in it. Batakrishna and Mira were living their reality. They trod through the dry fallen branches amidst the darkness of the eclipse, and shivered at their rustling sounds together, but somehow they knew it was only them and none else, as their non interference stood in between their life and the realm of the supernatural.

"Are ghosts even real?" Batakrishna had questioned once, nonchalantly, and Mira had rolled her eyes in the silent shadow of the sky, her feet following the man for behind at every step.

"Ofcourse they are real... Ram Ram Ram..."
She had murmured to herself, yet somehow, somewhere she recalled the words of the old woman who had so beautifully explained her the meaning of existence.
Love is the only reality, and rest all is superficial...
She recalled, and that
At the end of it, it all feels worth!

Although Batakrishna's thoughtful, calculating mind had failed to realise the true reality of ghosts, Mira had already realised it in her heart, for, she had already met the ghost, the real blood and bone, drawing breaths...
The tale of the haunted forest being only a ruse to keep the lovers safe from the hunting world!

"Memories Choto Zamindar Babu... Memories are our ghosts, the good and the bad ones... And they follow us in darkness..."
Mira muttered the words, almost inaudibly, and Batuk turned around to take a look at her.

"Is it? Are your ghosts haunting you then?"
He asked, raising an eyebrow, as his legs took backward steps with his eye fixated quizically at Mira.

"They do... We all have ghosts."
She sighed.

The conversation hadn't continued any further, as a faint light caught their eyesight. The dense foliage had abruptly ended at that place, giving birth to a green field, and across it stood the source of light, a modest shelter of some sort.

"Hurray! Civilization..."
Batakrishna had clapped his hands and jumped up in glee, and Mira stretched her eyes to look infront, and all she saw was Batakrishna's bright face grinning at her.

Money buys everything!
It was a sentence that Zamindar Birochan Roy Chowdhury would always say, and it was the only memory Batuk had of him from his childhood. He never saw much of his father, and with age he had realised that the man was clearly not interested or pleased with him being the reason of his wife's untimely farewell from life.
Batuk had learnt to accept his father's nonchalance, and needless to say, his uncle had never let him feel the void much. But, on one occasion, perhaps a Durga Puja at their ancestral house, Birochan Roy Chowdhury had proudly proclaimed those golden words to the son he never liked much, the golden words about being born in riches, leaving the young boy gaping.

Money could definitely buy a lot... But everything?

Little Batuk had the question in mind that day, but never had the courage to ask.
But at his immediate present, when he rode the old Moped scooter with Mira behind, clutching on to his waist tightly, all Batuk could do was remember his father's golden words and smile brightly.

A little rewind...
The establishment at the distance was a post office. Batakrishna had proudly went inside, had withdrawn money, had learnt about the solar eclipse, and had also noted the direction to reach the intended destination. Not just that, he had successfully persuaded the old reluctant post master to rent him the ancient Moped scooter that was parked outside, and in return he had offered a sum that wasn't to be refused.

His favourite ride, his favourite woman sitting behind, and a stretch of neverending darkness lit in the light of love and hope... It was more that what Batakrishna had ever wished from life at that moment!

Upon the dark green country lanes the moped scooter gave the gift of a connection to mother nature even as its deep tread black held fast to the grey.
From time and again, Mira was clutching his shirt tighter, her face colliding with his shoulder everytime he took a turn, and it made Batuk's heart skip beats in random.
Mira was quiet, but Batuk could see the happiness in her eyes reflected in the single mirror stand attached to the front. It was untainted happiness... the happiness of being free, the happiness of being not judged, the happiness of seeing the world around... together!

Batuk too breathed a puff of fresh air and recited his heart in silence. Love indeed teaches poetry!

Ride with me into the light, in full awareness of the nature around, breathing in the rich moment as if we had welded time to happiness.
My dear Mira...
Ride with me into the places where there are calls for our noble aid, where souls pray for miracles such as a safe and simple way of living, a good place to raise a child with love.
My love...
Ride with me for we wordsmiths, we peacemakers, have the power to grant such wishes... for that is the magic of the pure heart, the complete soul. This is what we do. This is why we were created and why the magic shows itself to us.

"Let's create magic together!"

Out of nowhere, Batakrishna had managed to speak out the last bit of his heart aloud, unable to sheath his excitement any longer. No context, no prelude, and his loud words had made Mira jump in her seat, threatening to topple them from the two wheels.

"Hey don't move." He had shouted.

"Don't scream." She pouted in response.

The ride lasted till evening, with two halts in between. Nothing of noteworthy had occurred during that duration barring a few instances. Mira had once raised her fingers to wipe fruit strains from Batuk's lips, and Batuk had tried to seize her and kiss in return, unsuccessfully ofcourse.
On another occasion Mira had refused to wrap her arms around him during their ride, and Batuk had invariably increased the speed, compelling her to do otherwise without sparing a single word.
Mira had been murmuring under her breath throughout, and from time and again Batuk adjusted the rear view mirror and saw how Mira's lips moved along with the fluttering of her beautiful large eyelashes. The septum ring swayed too, and along with it swayed Batakrishna's heart, and intent.

"Let's just say we get lost here, just the two of us, and then we marry and start to live."
He had smirked at how Mira's eyes widened at his words.

"And my son?"

"So you aren't objecting to the idea, are you? And about your son, I've promised I'll get him, and no matter what I'll get him... a Roy Chowdhury never breaks his promise."

"What?"
Mira had muttered with a confused frown on her face, and then as the Moped sped along the empty clay road, Batuk heard bits and pieces of Mira's murmurings...

Madness this is...
Hey Maa Bhavani...
will go to hell, and drag me along...
My lips...
Ishh...
Whenever... whatever he wishes...
Madness... All madness...
I'll fall... Falling...
Slipping... Slipping...

It was amusingly entertaining to hear how Mira continuously fought with herself, incessantly contradicting her own thoughts, and from time and again, she'd clasp his shirt tighter in fear of falling off the scooter.
Batuk enjoyed it thoroughly.

The path to destination wasn't difficult, and the bittersweet companionship of the duo had made the journey fun-filled. By six in the evening, when the crescent moon glowed at the Eastern sky, Batakrishna halted his scooter infront of a large Banyan tree where a group of village men had gathered for their liberal dose of nightly escapades.

"Um... Excuse me... Shrimati Meena Rani Chatterjee's house?"
He had parked the scooter and was standing infront of the gathering, addressing them with a smile on his face, as the men first frowned at his elite dress-up and then gaped at the exquisite mountain beauty standing behind him, with the hem of her checked saree pulled above her head.

"Who you?"
A middle aged man asked.

"Batakrishna?"
Batuk smiled again, hands folded, and the man exchanged a mocking glance with his fellows and prepared to focus on the game of cards they were playing.

"Daktar Batakrishna Roy Chowdhury, the third son of Zamindar of Tulsipur."
Batuk spoke again, but in place of the smile, there was his usual proud look, arms folded to his chest, head held high.

"Zamindar? Roy Chowdhury?"
Were the first words of exclamation, followed by,
"Brahmin?"

The men had left their games in an instance, most of them greeted him back with folded hands, and the one with salt and pepper hair came forward to speak.

"I'm Gadai Ganguly, Brahmin too." He smiled proudly, hinting towards the thin worn out Poite around his neck, as Batakrishna smiled in return.

"Tell me, Zamindar Babu, how can I help?"

The others stared at them with questioning gaze, some ogling at the woman behind, and Batuk clearly sensed the uncomfortable awkwardness that Mira felt under so many scrutinizing eyes. He walked back and stood infront of her, sheathing her from the gaze of the men infront.

"I'm looking for Shrimati Meena Rani Chatterjee, she lives in this village, with a small child, a boy..."

"Oh... Suresh Daktar's mother?"
Gadai Ganguly frowned, and Batuk nodded his head in approval.

"She... Well... Her son passed away in a tragedy about two years ago... And since then..."
The man stopped.

"Since then?"
Batuk asked politely.

"She's good woman, and we... We can't tell where she is!"

"What do you mean by where she is? Isn't she here? In this village?"
Batuk felt Mira squeezing the back of his shirt from behind, and her trembling fingers made him clear his throat once again and ask.
"Could you please tell me where she is? We're her relative!"

"What kind of relation?"
Another man from the group spoke up.
"I'm Suresh's Kuro moshai, I've never seen or known you!"

"and I'm his PisheMoshai...!" Another replied.

Batuk stood quiet, deciding on an answer, and Mira continued to tremble behind him, sheathed from all the prying eyes infront.

"It's right then, the poor woman received a threat from the white police... Someone is looking for her grandson... Poor good woman..."
"Right thing she did then!"
"Yes.. yes...right thing indeed!"

The men spoke among themselves, as their narrowed eyes looked at them with a gaze laced in suspicion.

"Are you from the police?"
Gadai Ganguly asked.

"No..."

"Then why are you looking for her?" Came another question.
"Who are you? How do you know them? How do you know Suresh? What is your relation..."

Sharp arrows of pointed questions came flooding upon them, one by one, sometimes together, and Batakrishna took out a large fifty rupees note from his pocket and held it up to the crowd.

"Fifty for whoever gives me the news."

The men shared glances with each other, their sharp questions became softer, and Gadai Ganguly was the first to respond.

"We'll tell you." He took the note pressed in between Batuk's fingers and folded it in his palms carefully.
"But first you'll have to tell me who you are to them, the Chatterjees."

Batuk sighed, preparing his words, but before he could utter a sound, Mira's soft yet eager voice startled him, as he saw her coming out from behind with her hands folded in a desparate plea.

"Wife... I'm Daktar babu's Wife ... His widow!"

Needless to say, her words had startled every pair of eyes ogling at her at that moment!
Some in awe, some in lust, some in disgust!

'A widow in colorful saree? What a horrendous disgrace!'

They all spat at the thought.

................................................

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I'm done with the next chapter. I'll post the moment this one crosses a 100 votes.