In the heart of the village stood the ancient Durga Temple, its walls whispering tales of old. The night was heavy with silence, broken only by the chilling wails that echoed from the temple's inner sanctum every full moon. The villagers whispered of divine wrath, believing the temple was a site of justice. Yet, Neha, a fearless journalist, sought the truth behind the legends. "I have to see it for myself," she resolved, clutching her camera and flashlight tightly.
Neha entered the temple, her steps echoing in the cavernous space. The air grew colder as she approached the sanctum, a sense of foreboding washing over her. Shadows danced across the walls, and the atmosphere was charged with an unseen energy. "Who's there?" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, as she sensed a presence beyond the flickering shadows.
Before Neha could react, a figure emerged near the deity's idol, a woman with an ethereal glow, her eyes filled with sorrow. Blood trickled from a wound on her forehead. "Who are you?" Neha asked, trying to steady her racing heart. "I am [@ch_3]Rukmini,"[/@ch_3_d] the spirit replied, her voice a melancholic echo.
Rukmini recounted her tale, her presence a testament to the injustice she suffered. "I was the temple's priestess, betrayed by those I trusted. Five men from the village defiled my sanctity and buried my body beneath the idol," she revealed, her voice laced with pain and vengeance. Neha listened, her resolve hardening with each word. "I will bring your truth to light," she promised.
The following day, Neha's report sent shockwaves through the village. The truth of Rukmini's fate incited outrage among the villagers, their anger a brewing storm ready to unleash. They gathered at the temple, their voices a chorus of justice long denied. Neha watched as the villagers exhumed Rukmini's remains, offering her the dignity she was denied in life.
With Rukmini's remains given a proper resting place, the temple's atmosphere shifted. The oppressive weight that had lingered for so long lifted, replaced by a serene calm. The villagers, though still wary, had a renewed sense of purpose. Neha, having fulfilled her promise, felt a deep sense of accomplishment. Yet, a lingering warning remained: "Let no one forget Rukmini's tale, lest the wrath of the divine return," she cautioned, knowing that the past must never be forgotten.
