The Womb of the Sundarbans: A Curse of Life and Death

In the emerald heart of the Sundarbans, where a thick mangrove canopy chokes the sunlight, lie the skeletal remains of the Dhopani temple. Ravaged by time, its ruins are scattered near a remote forest department camp. Legend whispers that this very temple is entwined with the myth of Behula-Lakhindar. It is said that here, the celestial washerwoman Netai Dhopani showed the grieving Behula the secret path to the heavens, allowing her to revive her husband from the snake’s fatal bite. Today, the temple is a crumbling shadow, draped in a thick shroud of moss and parasitic vines. The solar lights of the nearby forest camp only serve to make its ancient mystery feel deeper, darker, and more inaccessible.

Chapter 1: The Omen
Arunav Mitra, a pragmatic forest officer in his mid-thirties, had recently been transferred to the Dhopani camp. The forest was his passion, but the brooding, heavy silence of this place, coupled with a veiled fear he saw in the eyes of the local staff, unsettled him from day one. Harun Sheikh, a veteran forest guard, tried to help him adjust.
“Sir, the place is beautiful, but be careful after dark. Especially, do not go near the temple ruins,” Harun advised in a low voice. “The locals say you can still hear the echo of Behula’s heartbroken sighs. And… other strange things happen.”
Arunav dismissed the warning with a faint, rational smile. “Harun-da, those are just legends. I’m here to protect the forest, not chase after ghosts.”
But his conviction began to waver on the very first night. As he sat on the office porch, bathed in the dim glow of a solar lamp, a sound pricked his ears. It was a faint, suppressed moan, floating from the direction of the ruined temple, as if someone was trying to speak but was repeatedly drowned out by the chirping of crickets.
The next day, he went to inspect the temple grounds. He found broken walls, scattered stones, and banyan saplings clawing their way through the ancient architecture. Near the sanctum sanctorum, a dry, stone-lined well caught his eye. Arunav peered into its depths but saw only darkness. Yet, a strange, cloyingly sweet smell, like decaying flowers, drifted up to his nostrils.

Chapter 2: The Womb
A few days passed uneventfully, and Arunav immersed himself in his work. But every night, the sound returned, clearer and closer each time. During the dark fortnight of the new moon, when the jungle was swallowed by an oppressive blackness, the moan transformed into the weak, miserable cry of a newborn baby. At first, he tried to reason it away—perhaps a wildcat or a fox cub. But the cry was so heart-wrenching, so profoundly sorrowful, that it twisted something deep inside him.
When he asked Harun Sheikh about it, the old guard’s face grew pale. “Sir, that is no ordinary cry. It is the curse of the Dhopani temple. Legend says that long ago, a childless woman prayed here for a baby. But her vow was broken for some reason, and the goddess became enraged. The woman died here, driven mad by grief, and her insatiable spirit now gives birth to a phantom child within the temple’s womb.”
Arunav’s logical mind spun, searching for an explanation. A mother monkey mourning her dead infant? An echo from a distant village? But his gut rejected every theory. The sound was undeniably coming from the abandoned well.
The next day, he took a team of forest workers to the well. With the help of a young guard named Razu, they rigged a rope to explore the inside. But as soon as Razu was lowered a few feet, he screamed in pure terror. “Pull me up! Quick! The smell… it’s unbearable… like rotten meat! And… and I heard something moving… like a small child!”
When they hauled him out, he was shaking uncontrollably. Arunav noticed something on Razu’s mud-stained shirt: the imprint of several small, immature fingerprints. But the nails were unnaturally long and sharp.

Chapter 3: The Stalker
That night, the true horror began. The cry was no longer confined to the well. It was moving. The “child” had left the temple grounds and was approaching the camp. In the dead of night, Arunav heard faint footsteps on the tin roof of the office. The solar lights outside flickered and dimmed. On his windowpane, a small, moist handprint appeared, glistening in the faint light.
A few nights later, the guard on duty, Karim Box, ran into the camp babbling in terror. When he finally regained his senses, he could only whisper, “I saw it… with my own eyes… sitting on the temple’s broken wall… It looked just like a baby… but its eyes… they were burning… glowing red!”
Sleep became a luxury Arunav could no longer afford. He started keeping a vigil with his service rifle, feeling as though he were being stalked by an ancient, malevolent force. His rational mind desperately searched for evidence, but the events unfolding around him defied all worldly logic.
One quiet afternoon, while sorting through old office documents, Arunav found a faded, dilapidated diary. It belonged to a former forest officer. In it, he found a detailed account of the curse of the Dhopani temple. The officer had written: “An insatiable entity resides in the womb of this temple. It is not a human child, but a twisted manifestation of demonic energy. It is drawn to the scent of new life, which makes it stronger, more violent.”
The final entry, scrawled in a panicked hand, chilled Arunav to the bone: “It wanted my child… I failed… I couldn’t protect him…”
A frosty current ran down Arunav’s spine. His wife, back in the city, was pregnant.
Chapter 4: The Confrontation
The next full moon night arrived. The clearing was flooded with silvery light, but the temple ruins seemed to absorb it, appearing even darker. Suddenly, the entire forest fell silent. The chirping of insects and the calls of night birds ceased at once, replaced by a breathless hush. Arunav watched from his window.
He saw it. A small figure was emerging from the temple ruins, bathed in the moonlight. It moved first by crawling, then lurched unsteadily to its feet. Though shaped like a baby, its movements were unnatural. Its body seemed to be made of dry twigs, its skin a dead, faded white. Its long, sharp fingers scraped the ground as it moved. And its face… though not clearly visible, he could tell it held none of a human baby’s innocence. Instead, there was a primal, brutal hunger. Its eyes glowed like two burning coals.
The “child” began to move slowly towards the forest department camp. A strange, gurgling sound emanated from its throat, a sound far more dreadful than its cry. Arunav felt his blood run cold. He gripped his rifle tightly.
The entity reached the office porch. Then, with an eerie, unnatural agility, it scaled the railing and crawled onto the veranda. Arunav saw its small, sharp teeth and its claw-like nails. The sickeningly sweet, putrid odor filled the air.
“What… what do you want?” Arunav asked, his voice trembling.
The “child” didn’t answer. Its burning eyes were fixed on him. It moved slowly towards his door, a faint, evil aura radiating from its tiny body. Harun and the other workers had locked themselves in their rooms, shrunk in terror. Arunav was alone. He had a gun, but he knew with chilling certainty that this was an evil no worldly weapon could defeat.

Chapter 5: The Offering
Sharp, scraping sounds echoed from the door. The “child” was trying to get in. Suddenly, the legend of Behula flashed in Arunav’s mind. Netai Dhopani had taught her the way to restore life. But what if that divine knowledge had been twisted? What if an insatiable soul was using that power to give birth to a demonic life-form?
It struck him that this entity was not a child’s spirit but a manifestation of primitive hunger—an insatiable desire for the warmth of life. Especially new life. His heart pounded with fear as he thought of his wife and his unborn child.
An idea sparked in his mind. He pulled an old photograph from his wallet. It was a picture of his newborn nephew, his face pure and innocent.
The lock on the door splintered. Without a second thought, Arunav shoved the photograph through the crack in the door.
For a moment, there was silence. The scraping stopped. Then, a shrill, poignant shriek tore through the night. There was no anger in this cry, only immense pain and a profound, heartbreaking frustration. It was the sound of something precious being snatched away just as it was within reach.
Slowly, the shrieking faded into the night. Arunav waited, his heart hammering against his ribs. Finally, summoning his courage, he unbolted the door. There was no one outside. On the porch floor were a few drops of a black, sticky fluid that was already evaporating in the cool night air.
The next day, Arunav submitted his transfer request. He now understood that the Dhopani temple was not just a silent monument to history, but a living, breathing curse. The entity from the “womb” might have been temporarily repelled, but it would return, hungry and waiting for new life.

Conclusion: The Eternal Wait
Though Arunav left Dhopani, he could never escape the memory of that night. The echo of the demon baby’s cry still haunted his dreams. And in the emerald jewel of the Sundarbans, within the crumbling ruins of the Dhopani temple, the cursed entity is likely still waiting… waiting for the next stranger, the next new life. The boon granted to Behula has become a demonic curse. And the solar lights of the forest camp still flicker on every night, like silent witnesses to an eternal, hungry watch.