The Mirik Mystery

By Anindita Roy
Mrs. Sujata Basu adjusted her shawl as the cool mist of Mirik curled around her. At the age of fifty plus, she had long since left behind the thrill of youthful adventures, or so she thought. This trip with her seven school friends — Chetna, Rukmini, Jaya, Madhu, Benita, Simi, and Rinku — was meant to be a relaxing getaway — good food, endless gossip, and a stroll along the Sumendu Lake. But life had different plans.
The eight women had checked into a charming hotel-resort nestled amidst mountains and the Mirik lake. As they sat in the cozy drawing room, sipping Darjeeling tea and reminiscing about their school days, laughter filled the air. Sujata and her friends spoke of mischievous pranks, old teachers, and childhood crushes, feeling as though time had momentarily stood still. But just as they were lost in nostalgia, a sudden clang echoed through the still night, breaking their reverie.
“Did you hear that?” whispered Chetna, peering through the curtains. The sound had come from the abandoned bungalow next door, the one the locals said was cursed.
Rukmini’s eyes widened with curiosity. “What if it’s something unusual?” she murmured.
Jaya leaned in, “There have been stories about that house. Some say it hides secrets from the past.”
Sujata, ever practical, said, “Let’s check it out in the morning,” though she felt no particular inclination for mystery-solving.
Next day after a leisurely breakfast, the group ventured into the decrepit house. Dust motes danced in the golden light filtering through cracked windows. The air smelled of decay and something metallic — like rust… or blood.
“Over here!” called Jaya, pointing to a set of muddy footprints leading to a rickety staircase. Cautiously, they climbed up, the wood creaking under their weight.
The room at the top was in shambles. An old trunk lay open, its contents scattered — a few moldy books, a broken lantern, and an old diary. Jaya picked it up and flipped through the brittle pages.
July 1982… I know they are coming for me. The treasure is here, hidden where the sun meets the water. I must leave before they find me…
“Treasure?” Madhu exclaimed, eyes widening.
Before anyone could respond, a sound startled them — a soft shuffle from the corner. A shadow moved.
“Who’s there?” barked Sujata.
A frail man stepped into the dim light, his face gaunt, eyes darting nervously. “Please… don’t tell anyone,” he pleaded.
“Who are you?” demanded Benita.
“My name is Dinesh. I used to work for the old sahib who lived here. He buried something valuable, but people tried to kill him for it. I’ve been looking for it ever since.”
“Where is it?” asked Jaya, her journalistic instincts kicking in.
The man hesitated, then pointed towards the lake. “He wrote it in the diary… where the sun meets the water. That may mean the sunset point — there’s a stone near the western shore.”
Without wasting time, they hurried to the lake. The sun dipped, casting a fiery glow over the water. Near the edge, half-buried under overgrown weeds, was an old stone slab. Together, they heaved it aside, revealing a small metal box. Inside, wrapped in decayed cloth, were gold coins and antique ornaments.
Just then, a harsh voice cut through the air. “Step away from that!”
A burly man in a ragged coat emerged, holding a rusted revolver. Dinesh turned pale. “It’s him! The one who has been following me!”
Sujata quickly assessed the situation. Fear was evident in her friends’ eyes, but she remained calm. “You won’t shoot,” she said firmly. “Not with all these witnesses.”
The man wavered, and in that split second, Rinku grabbed a rock and hurled it at his hand. The gun clattered to the ground. Before he could react, Simi and Rukmini tackled him.
The police arrived soon after, alerted by a local who had seen the commotion. The man, identified as a wanted smuggler, was taken away. The treasure was handed over to the authorities, ensuring that the mystery of the old sahib was finally put to rest.
As they walked back to their bungalow, Chetna grinned. “And we thought this was just going to be a boring vacation.”
Sujata chuckled, shaking her head. “Some trips give you more than just memories.”