On a chilly December morning, as the first rays of sunlight pierced through the veil of fog created by the condensing water vapour rising from the forgotten Adi Ganga river passing nearby, it revealed the silhouette of a massive and ancient banyan tree the likes of which perhaps nowhere else could anyone find. The golden beams of the sun darted through the few gaps in the mighty banyan’s enormous and thick foliage to cast down a mosaic of dancing and dazzling yellow shapes on the green and brown earth below and the smoking river surface.
The dawning rays further unveiled a crumbling and archaic Hindu temple of thin and exposed skeletal bricks, fifty metres from the old banyan, covered in sprouting wild vegetation, housing a unique deity of Goddess Kali made of eight rare metals, worshipped by the villagers every day.
The deity was believed to be very powerful and stories of its miracles and divine providence travelled to far off regions. A hundred metres beyond the temple across a green paddy field lay the sleepy village of Botgram deep in the hinterlands of the South 24 Parganas district in India’s West Bengal state.
The Adi Ganga or the original river Ganges once flowed through here, however, gradually through the centuries the mighty river changed its course leaving behind a thin canal in its place. On the left bank of this once mighty river stood the majestic Banyan, the antique temple of the miraculous goddess, and the tiny village of just twenty houses with fifty residents.
As the piercing morning light gradually cleared the previous night’s mists away, smoke from woodfire and cow dung patty fuelled earthen cinders slowly rose above the thatched hamlet indicating the start of another village day. The crowing of rivalling roosters, moo of sulking cows, bleats of fleeting goats, barks of local dogs, and grunts of domestic swine and wild boars mixed with the hoots and chirps of different birds gradually woke up the village sleepy heads.
“Bhuto, aye Bhuto, where on earth are you goddamnit,” shrieked a rickety old lady as she wobbled out of a dilapidated hut, swinging her crooked cane in the air, cursing to her heart’s content, creating a ruckus, which the villagers were used to listening every day.
“Have you gone up to climb the godforsaken banyan again along with your troublesome friends? Now, who will take the goats out to graze? Aye Goddess Kali why have you left me with this cursed orphan, who killed his mother at birth and caused his father my only son to commit suicide and end his life in the most horrible way,” cried and shouted the old woman banging her feeble bosom with her crumpled and wrinkled fists walking down the main village alleyway.
“Bhuto, your frantic grandma is on the rampage again,” commented twelve-year-old Potla peeping through a camouflaged window of leaves and twigs, which opened and closed like a stage curtain, operated by pulleys, levers and ropes fabricated by Bhuto and his engineer friends, at about one hundred feet above the ground on the western face of the mighty banyan’s foliage, facing the village.
“Chill grandma, boys will always be boys,” chuckled Daton the toothless village blacksmith as he prepared to fire up his hearth for the day. “They are just up in their beloved tree. They will come down when they get hungry,” continued Daton speaking with a steady stream of spit jutting out of his toothless face. “Don’t defend the boys, you spitting fool. They have enough food stashed up in that tree to feed the entire village for a month you imbecile. God only know what these kids do up in the tree all day,” mumbled grandma as she walked away.
“Why do you encourage the boys Daton. They are always stealing our tool, nails, metal, and wood for their silly games up on the tree,” commented Gurupodo, the village carpenter, as he chewed on and violently poked his mouth with a Neem twig, brushing his teeth in the ancient Indian way.
“Okay, granny has calmed down, as usual, she won’t be searching for you for the next few hours I guess,” said Godai to Bhuto looking out through another camouflaged window a storey higher up in the tree from where Potla had peeped out to report grandma’s initial fit of rage. Few more such windows opened and closed all around the Banyan’s thick and impregnable foliage as Bhuto’s friends peeped out of them to gather useless intel about their uneventful village as part of their childish treehouse games.
A hundred kilometres from Botgram through the neighbouring forest rode a fast-moving hoard of fifty horsemen. Peetombor and Kalu led the group on their two jet-black Malani stallions. The brothers had carved a name of terror for themselves in the Bengal region. They and their band of dacoits had been looting and plundering, moving from one village to the next. No one knew where their secret hideout was and how they managed to cover their tracks and always vanish away.
The year was 1702 CE, the Malla king Raghunath Singha Dev II had just inherited the throne of Bengal from his Father the brave Durjan Singha Dev. King Raghunath who though a competent ruler was more inclined towards music, dance, and artistic performances. He had not yet given adequate attention to Peetombor and Kalu’s looting rampage.
Two hundred hooves drummed on the soggy forest floor on that cold winter morning in December heading towards Botgram, the small and unknown village of twenty houses with fifty people. The previous night they had just plundered the neighbouring village of Chapadanga and though their next logical target on the path of plunder was Botgram, there was another strong reason for them to head that way.
The brothers were great devotees of Goddess Kali and had heard about the miraculous power of the unique rare eight metal deity in the temple of Botgram. They wanted to bring and establish it in their own secret hideout forest temple. Of course, they would also loot the village of all its food and riches, violate women, and if necessary, kill to make an example or simply fuel their sadistic ways.
After two hours of hard riding, the dacoits were finally at the village. They tore into the peaceful hamlet shrieking horrifying battle cries creating dust clouds with their galloping horses. The looters frantically wielded their sabres and spears slashing and jabbing through anything that lay in their way.
As the initial frenzy of the attack calmed and the blinding dust settled, Peetombor, Kalu, and the bandits could not comprehend what they saw in front of them. There was not a single human being in the village. Cows, goats, pigs, dogs, and hens roamed around but there were no men, women, or children. Food was still cooking on the earthen stoves, but no one was around to tend. There were signs of human activities everywhere but no villagers anywhere. It was as if the people had just vanished moments before the dacoits came.
Peetombor and Kalu’s men frantically searched every nook and corner a few kilometres in every direction but could not find a single human. Now, they were really scared. It had to be divine intervention. The dacoits were convinced that Goddess Kali of Botgram must have performed a miracle and teleported the villagers to a safe place before they arrived in the village. There was simply no other explanation.
Now scared of the wrath of the Goddess, the bandits decided not to take a single thing from this divinely protected village. Standing in front of the ancient temple Peetombor and Kalu bowed to ask for forgiveness from the Goddess. “Oh! Mother Kali, we will never come here again and promise to abstain from looting any village with your temple in it,” cried the two dacoit brothers with folded palms, before leaving the village once and for all with their horses and men.
As the bandits rode away, camouflaged windows slowly started opening up on the mighty banyan’s foliage. Moments later a wooden basket came down the tree like a lift, lowered through an ingenious system of ropes and pulleys operated by a wooded wheel slowly turned by two boys hidden somewhere inside the banyan’s bowels. From the basket stepped out toothless Daton the blacksmith and Guropodo the carpenter and signalled that they were out of harm’s way.
Runged and knotted rope ladders came down from the mighty banyan and one after the other men, women, and children descended from the branches. The basket lift went up and down to bring down the aged.
It seemed that over the past three years Bhuto and his friends had become obsessed with creating an intricate livable world on planks and platforms hidden deep in the mighty banyan’s foliage.
Their childish game of keeping a lookout through the camouflaged windows spotted the approaching bandits long before they arrived at the village. In a great show of bravery and presence of mind, the children came down and gathered the villagers, alerted them of the approaching danger, and convinced them to hide in the tree in time before the bandits came.
The villagers never told anyone about this event as they wanted to keep the possibility of escaping into the banyan if ever needed. As the years passed by, upkeep of the secret treehouse was handed down to children through the generations, who constantly developed the living space and facilities in the tree’s bowels.
So today if you somehow happen to land in Botgram do visit the ancient temple of the eight rare metal deity of Goddess Kali and catch a glimpse of Bhuto’s Banya Tree, who knows you may spot a kid peeping out of a camouflaged window keeping a watchful eye as a hidden sentinel.
Copyright © 2021 TRISHIKH DASGUPTA
This work of fiction, written by Trishikh Dasgupta is the author’s sole intellectual property. All rights are reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including printing, photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, send an email to the author at trishikh@gmail.com or get in touch with Trishikh on the CONTACT page of this website.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Trishikh Dasgupta
Adventurer, philosopher, writer, painter, photographer, craftsman, innovator, or just a momentary speck in the universe flickering to leave behind a footprint on the sands of time... READ MORE
Weekend Stories by Trishikh 
Reblogged this on Ned Hamson’s Second Line View of the News and commented:
delightful tale
LikeLiked by 4 people
Thanks Ned for always liking my stories.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Very interesting story.
LikeLiked by 5 people
Always a pleasure to receive your appreciation. I look forward to it all the time.
LikeLike
Banyan’s evoke mysticism filled with beauty of an invisible kind. Your story takes me to many a places, trees that held my thoughts of long and there is no doubt dear trishikh that the tree has also blessed you with words and vision. My wishes
Nara x
LikeLiked by 6 people
Your words greatly encourage me. Am so glad that my story was able to take you to places. Yes you are right, trees have a special place in the human heart, and specially in that of a kid.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Bravo 🙂 I have a “foreigner” question: is this beautiful tale a traditional tale that you rewrote, or is it all your own?
LikeLiked by 7 people
It is a figment of my imagination. A complete new and fresh tale for the world. Thank you so much for liking my story.
LikeLiked by 2 people
So it was the birthday of a new tale !!!
LikeLiked by 4 people
Oh! Absolutely.
LikeLiked by 1 person
🙂 I should write the day of birth… / the Birth Day 😀
LikeLiked by 2 people
Yes certainly you can do that. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Loved this story. ✨
LikeLiked by 8 people
Thank you Arpita. You have always encouraged and appreciated my stories. Will always be thankful for that.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Lovely story, Trishikh!
LikeLiked by 7 people
Thank you so much. Always appreciate your appreciation.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Wow very well described 👏👏👏
And what a great story
LikeLiked by 5 people
Thank you so much. Really treasure your comment.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Fascinating story! Keep on writing such impressive one’s.
LikeLiked by 5 people
Thanks Anamika, you are my constant source of inspiration.
LikeLike
Interesting!! Loved the story!
Stay happy and keep writing ❤️!
LikeLiked by 8 people
Thanks for liking the story. Much appreciate your kind comment. Keep a look out for one every weekend.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Yup i loved it! And will surely keep an eye every weekend waiting for a new piece to read! Till then will be going through all your previous writings and enjoy them🤗!
And thanks for the support you’ve been showing to my blog! Grateful I am 🙏😇
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you so much. You are most welcome.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Daroon laglo shotti!
LikeLiked by 1 person
ধন্যবাদ। Thank you.
LikeLike
I love how you weave a great story connecting so many dots of our rich heritage, life back then and the ingenious bunch of young lads. I could visualise your words unfold the entire story before me. Kudos Trishikh 👏
LikeLiked by 5 people
You are too kind with your words. Usually I tend to get a bit carried away with history, but this time for this story I wanted to keep as little as history as possible. Fortunately I have been able to connect the dots till now in most of my stories, some ofcourse are better than others. I agree with you visuals are a very important part of my stories.
LikeLiked by 2 people
An excellent and absorbing story, Trishikh. The way you weave your words with imagination is simply superb. The characters you choose look so real. Thank you my friend for sharing this beautiful story.
LikeLiked by 4 people
Your kind words of appreciation mean a lot. They encourage me to a great extent. Am so glad that you liked the story. Will keep on writing, more good stories to come ever weekend.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Most welcome, my friend 😊
LikeLiked by 1 person
Amazing blog you got and thanks for following
LikeLiked by 7 people
Oh it’s my pleasure. You are most welcome. I enjoyed going through your blog too.
LikeLiked by 2 people
A really enjoyable read!! Thanks for sharing this tale with us!
LikeLiked by 3 people
So glad that you liked the story. Thank you so much for liking it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I did and you are most welcome!! 🙂
LikeLiked by 2 people
Interesting and engaging story. You have a great imagination and you paint a picture with your words, that is relatable to many. I am always fascinated by the Banyan trees, and I liked their reference very much. Thank you for sharing another absorbing story.
LikeLiked by 4 people
Much appreciate your comment. Thank you so much for liking my story. I always believe our writings should paint a picture in the minds of our readers.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Great story, very describe and imaginative. 🙏🏻
LikeLiked by 4 people
Thank you so much. So glad that you liked it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Beautiful story!
LikeLiked by 4 people
Thank you so much for liking.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Np, stay safe!
LikeLiked by 2 people
You too, take care.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks for sharing such a beautifully penned and wonderfully swashbuckling story. Really enjoyed the read. Happy Story Writing Days.
LikeLiked by 4 people
Oh! Thank you so much Goff. So happy that my story could bring a smile across your face.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Great story telling. Best Regards.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Potla and Bhuto feel like the kids next door. Your descriptions are almost palpable. Great story.
LikeLiked by 6 people
Thank you so much. Really appreciate your comment. Will keep on bringing more good stories every weekend. Do keep an eye out, visit again, and enjoy.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Beautiful story!! I love fiction pieces. This one really grabbed my attention!💗💗💗
LikeLiked by 5 people
Thanks Diana. So glad that you loved the story. There are many more stories in my blog, some of which I am sure you would love. I release a story every weekend, so more good ones to come in the future. Do visit again. Take care.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Lovely story, Trishikh! But I am only wondering how can the whole village go up one Banyan tree?
LikeLiked by 4 people
Well it was around 50 people and some banyan’s can be massive. The great Banyan tree in Calcutta’s botanical garden is 250 years old, occupying an area of 18,918 square metres with its many combined trunks. Further the children made many platforms and livable spaces up in the tree for 3 years, this made it easy for the people to stay up there. The basket lift assisted elders to climb, and many ladders helps others to climb.
LikeLike
Amazing!
LikeLiked by 2 people
what a wonderful story weaving such rich history, woven with fiction and fun story Trishikh. I loved it. Nicely done!!! I so love the banyan tree ❣️💖
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you Cindy for always appreciating my stories. Really treasure your appreciation. Yes, weaving history and fiction is my favourite style. I love Banyan trees too, there is something ancient and majestic about them.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It is my pleasure Trishikh!!
I can see how much you love it which is this gift for all of us. 💖🌷🌷
LikeLiked by 1 person
I treasure your constant support. By the grace of God and through the best wishes of friends like you I am sure that I will be able to bring many more of these kinds of stories in the future.
LikeLiked by 1 person
That is very kind and I have no doubt you will! 💖
LikeLiked by 1 person
Great post ❤
LikeLiked by 4 people
Thank you so much.
LikeLike
My pleasure
LikeLiked by 1 person
This story reminded me of “My Father, Maker of the Trees” by Eric Irivuzumugabe. Survivors of the Rwandan genocide employed the same strategy. I think you would enjoy the book.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Oh! Is it so, I got to read it then. How fascinating it is that sometimes when we write something, the likes of it might already be existing. Thank you for always liking my stories.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I loved this story, Trishikh. It was so fun. Thanks.
LikeLiked by 4 people
Thanks Marthe, always treasure your appreciation. My many best wishes.
LikeLike
Superb, you are a very good writer, I liked your flow of writing.
LikeLiked by 5 people
Thanks Rahul, really treasure your comment. So glad that you find my flow of writing appealing.
LikeLike
Good for the smart kids. Lovely story.
LikeLiked by 5 people
Thank you for liking the story. Smart kids indeed.
LikeLiked by 1 person
This is a wonderful story. You have a great descriptive style.
LikeLiked by 5 people
Thank you so much Tina, it’s always delightful to get words of appreciation for someone for the first time. Really trasure your like. A try to write and publish one story every weekend, started from August 2020. Right now I am writing my 31st story. I am sure you love some of them.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m looking forward to reading more. Have a wonderful day.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You too take care.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You have great skill to keep engaging me throughout the story. With Lots of Blessings.
LikeLiked by 5 people
Thank you so much for your kind words of appreciation. Really treasure your comment.
LikeLike
Reblogged this on Love and Love Alone.
LikeLiked by 4 people
Thank you so much for reblogging my story. You honour me greatly by doing this. Really appreciate it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
👍
LikeLiked by 1 person
Awesome
LikeLiked by 5 people
Thanks Denise, always treasure your appreciation.
LikeLike
Thanks for featuring my story in your blog. Really appreciate it.
LikeLike
Very niceee
LikeLiked by 4 people
Thank you Elsa, always a pleasure to have someone for the first time show interest in and appreciate my story.
LikeLike
I think these young boys were quite heroic.
LikeLiked by 4 people
You are right, absolutely they were. Always look forward to your comment. Thank you for always being so supportive of my writings.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You are welcome.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Your description of you village reminded my grandmothers village……fantastic writing……and keep………writing……YBR
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thank you so much for your lovely comment. I am so glad that my description brought back a precious memory of yours.
LikeLike
Amazing! Well, till now I have only read half of it, but yes will have to say, Simply Amazing!
LikeLiked by 5 people
Thanks Aadya. So glad that you like my story. Do finish it. I am sure you would love it.
LikeLike
Sure, Mr. Trishikh! Was reading it only…Well, how do you today?
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Aadya. I am doing well and hope you are doing good too. Take care of yourself and happy reading.
LikeLike
(θ‿θ)
LikeLiked by 1 person
An excellent and very enjoyable story Trishikh. That you respect and enjoy your culture shines through.
Hugs
LikeLiked by 4 people
Thanks David for liking this story of mine. I try my best to uphold bits and pieces of the Indian culture through my stories. So many people have been so supportive and appreciative of my stories that it’s really overwhelming. I try to write and release one story every weekend. Do visit again and read some more, I am sure you would love a few of them.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Just wanted to add, simply loved reading you post ‘Senility Before Sunset,” simply hillarious and too good a piece to overlook. Will read more of your writings, got a chance to go through a few of them.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Nice Story.😊
LikeLiked by 4 people
Thank you so much for liking the story.
LikeLike
Interesting story
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you so much. So glad that you liked it.
LikeLike
Interesting story
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you so much Nana’ji for your kind words of encouragement.
LikeLike
good story, and I really love the artistic rendering of the banyan tree!
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thanks Krista, so happy that you liked this story of mine.
LikeLike
Cool story, Trishikh! I love the creative idea of having the villagers hide up the tree to escape bandits, thanks to the engineering skills of the youngsters.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thanks for liking Halim. Always a pleasure to hear from you. Yes this story of mine is on the lighter side, a bit adventurous and young at heart
LikeLike
It’s associated with some superstitions. So I’m indeed deeply impressed with the story.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you Subhra, so glad that you liked the story.
LikeLike
If I ever get opportunity to visit Botgram I’ll never forget to take a glimpse of Bhuto’s Banyan Tree. Actually the story is really quite an indian village description.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Oh certainly Subhra, but Botgram is a figment of my imagination, however, who knows you may find a similar village and certainly a similar tree. So glad that you liked my description.
LikeLike
Amazing 👌👌👌
LikeLiked by 2 people
Glad that you liked the story.
LikeLike
A delightful tale, Trishikh, with a moral twist.
Thank you!
Joanna
LikeLiked by 1 person
Your appreciation gives me great joy Joanna. Yes! I usually try to put a little bit of morals and values in my stories.
LikeLike
In that respect, we think alike, Trishikh!
Joanna
LikeLiked by 1 person
Certainly Joanna.
LikeLike
Nice. Very nice
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much. It really makes my day when someone appreciates.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Anytime!
LikeLiked by 1 person
It’s really a pleasure and privilege to have you as a friend and admirer of my stories.
LikeLiked by 1 person
No worries. I enjoyed reading them.
LikeLiked by 1 person
And I treasure and enjoy our interactions.
LikeLike
Another great and impressive story about history religion herbal benefits of this tree.
Thanks.History is a story teller in itself and so are you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much for appreciating this story. As always your comments makes writing them so worthwhile. Nothing makes my day better than a little bit of appreciation.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Most welcome
LikeLiked by 1 person