Govind, Sankalp, and Ayush had been friends for years, always eager for adventure. One evening, they gathered at Ayush’s house near the ancient Shanivarwada fort, indulging in their usual banter over chicken burgers. The aroma of freshly cooked chicken filled the air as they sat around the dimly lit room, chatting and laughing. It was late, and the night outside seemed unusually still.
As the conversation deepened, Ayush brought up an eerie local legend he had heard growing up. "You know," he began, his tone shifting to something more serious, "there’s this old tale that says if you eat chicken and walk near Shanivarwada at midnight, a spirit called the Khais will chase you. It’s said to follow anyone who’s eaten chicken and then digs a grave-like pit the exact size of the person it's after.”
Govind chuckled nervously, but Sankalp, the skeptic, waved it off with a dismissive laugh. "That’s absolute nonsense, Ayush. Ghost stories like that are made to scare kids."
Ayush, however, insisted the story was true. "People say they’ve seen it—a figure, tall and haunting, digging in the dead of night. My grandmother told me it’s not just a story."
Intrigued yet unwilling to show their fear, the trio made a bold decision: they would walk near Shanivarwada at midnight, right after eating their burgers. Sankalp, confident it was all a myth, led the way, but there was an underlying tension between them. The clock struck 12, and they set out into the quiet, dark streets.
As they approached the backside of the fort, an unnatural stillness fell upon them. The wind whistled through the ancient walls, and the path ahead grew darker with each step. The streetlights dimmed as if the air itself was thick with something unseen. The sound of their footsteps echoed in the silence, each one louder than the last.
Suddenly, strange noises filled the air—faint whispers, soft rustling, as though something—or someone—was watching them. They stopped in their tracks. “Did you hear that?” Govind whispered. Ayush nodded, his face pale. The once confident Sankalp now wore a look of unease.
Then, from the shadows, they noticed a figure—a tall, gaunt man sitting in the corner near the fort’s wall. He was draped in tattered, old clothes, his face obscured by darkness. His eyes seemed to fixate on them, following their every move.
Panic gripped their hearts. The figure matched Ayush’s description from earlier—tall, ragged, and unsettlingly silent. Their minds raced; was this the Khais? Without exchanging words, the three friends broke into a sprint, fear flooding their senses. They could hear faint footsteps behind them, quickening with each passing second.
Somehow, they made it back to Ayush's house, slamming the door shut behind them. Their hearts pounded in their chests as they tried to catch their breath. “What was that?” Govind gasped, trying to make sense of what they had just seen.
Before they could calm down, a sudden noise broke the silence—a scraping sound at the window. Ayush froze, his eyes wide with terror. Slowly, he moved toward the window, peering through the curtains. Outside, beneath the faint moonlight, the figure was there.
The man—or creature—was digging, just as Ayush had described earlier. His long, bony hands clawed at the earth, shaping it into a deep pit, its dimensions terrifyingly familiar. It was the exact size of a human body.
The scraping stopped, and the figure looked up, meeting Ayush’s eyes. A chilling smile spread across its face as it beckoned him forward. Frozen in fear, Ayush stumbled back from the window. The others huddled together, paralyzed by the realization that the legend might be far more than just a story.
And then, the knocking began.
The Haunting of Shanivarwada: The Return of the Souls
The atmosphere inside Ayush’s house was thick with fear. Govind, Sankalp, and Ayush sat huddled together, their eyes wide with terror as the scraping sounds at the window grew louder. Outside, in the dim moonlight, they could see the figure of the Khais, hunched over, digging a pit. Its movements were slow and deliberate, and the pit was growing deeper.
Ayush’s hands shook as he grabbed his phone, dialing Diksha in desperation. "Diksha, please, you have to come. Something... something is outside our window! We saw it—just like I told you, that thing is real!" His voice was frantic.
On the other end, Diksha's voice trembled, but she tried to stay calm. "Ayush, I can’t get there until morning. Just stay inside. Don’t go near the window. I’ll be there as soon as the sun comes up."
Diksha arrived at Ayush’s home early in the morning, as promised, knocking repeatedly on the door. For almost 20 minutes, there was no answer. Growing anxious, she kept knocking until Ayush’s neighbor, Shree, heard the noise and came to help.
“I have an extra key,” Shree said, unlocking the door and pushing it open. What greeted them was deeply unsettling. Govind, Sankalp, and Ayush were sitting stiffly on the sofa, their faces pale, their eyes staring blankly at one another in eerie silence.
“What happened here?” Shree asked, his voice filled with concern. But no one responded—except for Sankalp, who seemed the only one somewhat aware of his surroundings. In a shaky voice, Sankalp recounted everything to Shree—the strange figure, the running, the pit, and the haunting sounds at the window.
Sankalp’s story sent chills down Shree’s spine, but what disturbed him more was the fact that Govind and Ayush sat there, almost lifeless, not recognizing anyone around them. It was as if their very souls had been stolen.
Curious and worried, Shree led Sankalp to the window, where they had first seen the mysterious figure digging the pit. But when they looked, the large pit they had feared was gone, replaced by a small, shallow hole. Something about it seemed wrong—too neat, too deliberate. Unable to contain his curiosity, Shree and Sankalp began to dig at the small hole. As their hands brushed away the dirt, they unearthed something strange—two small, black dolls buried deep within the earth.
The sight of the dolls sent a wave of terror through both of them. Shree’s heart pounded, and his palms grew sweaty. What could these dolls mean? Were they cursed objects? Sankalp stood frozen, staring down at the disturbing discovery.
Suddenly, a loud cry echoed through the still morning air. Turning quickly, they saw an old woman standing a few feet away, tears streaming down her face. She cried out in Marathi, "गेला तो आत्मा घेऊन गेला!" ("He took the souls and left!") Her sorrowful wail cut through the eerie silence. Then, looking directly at Sankalp, she pointed at him and said, "तुला पण जावं लागणार त्यांच्या सोबत!" ("You, too, will have to go with them!")
Panic seized both Shree and Sankalp. The woman’s words felt like a death sentence. Sankalp’s face turned white as he struggled to process what she had said. The urgency of the situation hit Shree like a bolt of lightning. He suddenly remembered that the story of the Khais had been told to them by Ayush’s grandmother. She might be the only one who knew how to stop this curse and free them from this terrifying fate.
Wasting no time, Shree set out on a frantic journey to Ayush’s hometown to meet the grandmother. He knew every moment was crucial, as the Khais could claim the remaining souls at any time. After hours of driving, he arrived at Ayush’s ancestral home, where the family welcomed him with kind, smiling faces, unaware of the horrors that had unfolded.
That evening, after a dinner filled with polite conversation, Shree approached Ayush’s father with his request. "I need to speak with Ayush’s grandmother about something urgent."
Ayush’s father nodded. “Of course. She’ll be happy to see you.”
The elderly grandmother greeted Shree with warmth, her wise eyes crinkling with age as she smiled. But when Shree explained everything that had happened, her expression darkened. After hearing about the black dolls, the pit, and the eerie old woman, she sat quietly for a moment, deep in thought.
Her first question surprised Shree. “Does Ayush have a cat at home?”
Shree blinked, confused. “Yes, he does. But it’s only been there for the last one or two months.”
The grandmother sighed in relief and offered a small prayer to the gods, looking up to the heavens. “That cat is no ordinary visitor, Shree. Our family has been blessed with a special boon for generations. Whenever the Khais comes for one of our souls, a cat appears before it happens. The cat’s presence means the Khais can be defeated, but only under one condition.”
Shree leaned in, his heart pounding. “What condition?”
The grandmother’s voice grew soft but firm. “When the cat has kittens, the souls taken by the Khais will be returned. The kittens represent new life, and when they arrive, the Khais must give back what it took. But until those kittens are born, Ayush and Govind are in grave danger. They cannot eat meat. If they do, the Khais will bind their souls forever.”
Shree was overwhelmed. It sounded unbelievable, yet he had seen too much to dismiss it. “How long until the cat gives birth?” he asked, his voice laced with urgency.
“It could be days. It could be weeks,” the grandmother replied. “Until then, you must protect them. Watch over Ayush and Govind. Make sure no meat comes near them, for the Khais will be relentless in its temptation.”
Shree knew what he had to do. Thanking the grandmother, he hurried back to Ayush’s home. The next few days were filled with dread as he and Sankalp took turns guarding their friends, ensuring they didn’t touch any meat. The cat roamed the house, its belly swollen, signaling that the time was drawing near.
Finally, one fateful morning, the cat gave birth to three healthy kittens. Shree and Sankalp watched in awe as life returned to the house. The oppressive air lifted, and a warmth they hadn’t felt in days filled the rooms. Ayush and Govind slowly came back to themselves, blinking as if waking from a long, dark dream.
“What… what happened?” Ayush whispered, his voice trembling as he looked at Shree.
Before Shree could respond, a familiar wail echoed outside. They rushed to the window, only to find the old woman again, standing by the now empty pit. This time, however, she wasn’t sorrowful. Her face was calm, though tears still fell from her eyes.
“He is gone,” she said softly in Marathi, “and your friends are safe—for now.”
With one last glance at them, she disappeared into the early morning mist. When they turned back to Ayush and Govind, their faces had softened. They were back.
But Shree and Sankalp knew that they had been spared only because of the cat’s strange gift. The legend of the Khais still lingered, a constant reminder that some forces could never truly be defeated.
