Guwahati, Assam
Neermahal in Tripura is the summer palace of the Manikya royal family. A picturesque palace standing over the Rudrasagar Lake surrounded by vast greenery. No, Rudrasagar is not a sea; it is actually a massive lake, stretching so far that you can't see the other side. The palace seems like a white lotus floating on the lake.
As we were returning from seeing Neermahal by boat, the sun had set, painting the western sky with hues of red. The darkness of evening was spreading rapidly. Despite the season being summer, a cool breeze was blowing. The weather was pleasant and comfortable. We were enjoying the boat ride thoroughly.
The eastern sky was gathering clouds. Looking at it, Jiku said, "It looks like it’s going to rain. We need to see the mad old woman’s shrine before that."
Jiku is Gola's cousin, our Tripura friend and also our tour guide. This time, four of us—myself, Gola, Pontai, and Bilb—had come to Tripura for a visit. After finishing the semester exams, we were unsure of what to do with the break, and then Gola suggested, "Let’s all go to my maternal uncle's house."
We knew Gola's maternal uncle’s house is in Agartala, Tripura. But that’s quite far. Gola said, "So what if it’s far? Are we going to walk? It’s just a forty-minute flight. Think about it. I haven’t been there for a long time either. It’ll make my uncles very happy if we all go. Besides, Jiku, who studies in Pune, has also come home for the college break. We’ll get to meet him too."
Everyone agreed to the idea. We had always wanted to see this historically rich state bordering our country, so we took the opportunity to make the most of it. We came here as a group of four.
Since we arrived, we’ve been touring around. We’ve been using my uncle’s SUV as our vehicle. And of course, we have Jiku with us. As a friend and guide, Jiku is excellent—he knows the state like the back of his hand and its history too. Many things cannot be learned just by reading books or travel guides; a lot of unknown information comes from talking to locals. Jiku has a treasure trove of such unknown tales. For instance, during our boat ride, I learned something interesting. It is well-known that the famous musician Sachin Dev Burman was from Tripura’s royal family and is more commonly known as Sachin Karta. But why was he called “Karta”? There’s a specific reason for this. The children of kings are given the title “Manikya,” while those who cannot become kings are given the title “Thakur.” The sons of the king’s brothers are called “Karta.” Hence, Sachin Dev Burman is known as Sachin Karta.
In conversation, we didn't realize when we had arrived at the shore. When we disembarked, we noticed the sky was covered with clouds. Nature was ominously quiet. A storm was imminent. The evening’s shadow had fallen over the lake. Although it was the hot season, the cool breeze continued. The weather was still pleasant. We enjoyed the boat ride thoroughly.
Jiku pointed out that it seemed like it might rain soon. He urged us to visit the shrine of the mad old woman before the weather worsened.
This shrine requires visiting a specific location, as I’ve heard from Jiku. The story surrounding this mad old woman seemed bizarre. Some say she is a hundred years old, others claim she’s over one hundred and fifty, and some even exaggerate to say she’s two hundred. The old woman is said to be very peculiar. No one has ever seen her eat. She does not bathe or perform any of the usual routines, yet she is alive and moves around.
Even more astonishing is the story of her appearance. One day, she suddenly appeared in the local market area. No one knows where she came from or what her background is. That day, she is said to have shouted "Fire! Fire!" in the market. The next day, for some unknown reason, a fire broke out in the market, burning down almost all the shops. On another occasion, she shouted "Water! Water!" and then the area was flooded. After a few such incidents, people started to believe she was no ordinary person. She usually does not speak much, but if she suddenly says something, it is believed to come true. Especially if she scolds someone, that person is said to acquire immense fortune soon. Hearing this made me think of "Deja Vu." I’ve heard that some people have the ability to foresee events. Whether this is true or false, it certainly feels that way after hearing the old woman’s stories.
For these reasons, the old woman is revered almost like a deity now.
It became clear to me just how significant she is to the locals when we arrived. Other boat passengers, who were also tourists like us from various cities, towns, and distant places, all rushed to see the mad old woman’s shrine. Some came out of devotion, while others, like us, were driven by curiosity.
People were talking about various aspects of the old woman’s life. There was deep faith and respect for her supernatural powers. It is considered a matter of luck to see her. Every day, numerous devotees come from far and wide to her shrine, though not everyone gets to see her. Some do, however.
By the time it got completely dark, some people were lamenting whether they would get to see the old woman in the darkness. Others thought that if it was meant to be, they would see her even in the dark; if not, it would be impossible even in daylight. I noticed that Jiku shared this opinion too. It surprised me that someone as educated and intelligent as Jiku would believe in such folklore like the villagers. Anyway, everyone has their own beliefs. I shouldn’t comment on that.
Jiku mentioned that although he had been here several times, he had never visited the mad old woman’s shrine. So, this time, he would take us there together.
However, our driver, Bhola da, said that his father had seen the mad old woman. We became intrigued and asked what she looked like. Did she really seem to be one hundred and fifty or two hundred years old? But Bhola da shrugged, indicating he didn’t know. His father had seen her during a very crowded time, and the chance to see her clearly was minimal. He could only see her hands, which had long, uncut nails twisted into coils. The sight of those nails was said to have given him chills.
I asked, "What do you think, Bhola da? Is the mad old woman really surviving without eating?"
"That’s what people say. No one has ever seen her eat. Devotees offer fruits, sweets, and money, but it all remains untouched. If she ever touches the offerings, it is said that the person who offered them will have good fortune."
I realized that this place had become a pilgrimage site purely based on belief and imagination. The number of devotees continued to grow. We also set off towards the shrine. But, as luck would have it...
The weather began to deteriorate rapidly. A strong wind had started, which meant a storm was brewing. The entire area was engulfed in pitch darkness. Maybe there was a power outage, or perhaps there was no electricity in the area. Additionally, with the clouds covering the moon and stars, there was no light at all. The only source of light was the car’s headlights. We were navigating the narrow, broken road, passing fields, forests, and occasionally a few houses and villages. Most of the area was completely deserted.
But despite driving through many alleys, we couldn’t find the mad old woman’s shrine. There was no one on the road to ask for directions. The weather was rapidly worsening. Eventually, Bhola da gave up and said, "I’ve lost my way. It’s impossible to find the shrine in this weather."
So what else could we do? We used the GPS on our phone and started heading back home. But our curiosity about the mad old woman remained.
The weather worsened further. The storm intensified with frequent lightning and thunder. It was clear that heavy rain could start at any moment. We never imagined that such a disaster would follow a bright, sunny day. Bhola da was speeding up as much as possible on the broken narrow road.
Agartala was not close from here. Even without stopping, it was nearly an hour and a half away. Once we left this area and got onto the main road, the problems would be over. The roads there were relatively better. But the weather was becoming increasingly hostile. After driving for about half an hour, we found the highway. Bhola da accelerated the vehicle to full speed.
But just a kilometer or two ahead, the rain started pouring heavily, accompanied by the intense storm. The trees around were swaying wildly like enraged monsters. Lightning was flashing across the sky, and the thunder was deafening. It was a terrifying situation. Amidst all this, our car plowed through the darkness. The rain reduced visibility, and the car’s speed decreased significantly. It was evident that it would take time to reach our destination.
After about an hour of this, Bhola da took another road, which was narrower but claimed to be a shortcut. This road was surrounded by dense jungle, high hills, and large trees. There were a few small houses, villages, ponds, and fields scattered along the way. The road was completely empty. There was no human presence anywhere.
Finally, Bhola da, who had been trying his best to avoid any mishap, encountered a steep hill. The car struggled to climb, and the wheels started spinning, unable to gain traction. We were stuck.
Despite many attempts, we couldn’t move forward. The storm showed no sign of letting up. There was no sign of help anywhere. We had no choice but to wait. We turned on the car’s emergency lights and waited in the darkness, listening to the howling storm and the relentless rain.
We were in a precarious situation, yet we made light of it and joked. Everyone was getting increasingly anxious. I noticed Pontai was scared and Bilb was more or less calm. We all sat in the car and tried to pass the time by chatting and waiting for the storm to subside.
This situation went on for nearly two hours. In between, the storm eased a bit. Seeing a slight opening, we decided to try climbing the hill again. To our surprise, the car managed to climb the hill. We didn’t know how far we still had to go, but the road continued to wind and twist.
We slowly drove forward, and after some time, we saw lights in the distance. Eventually, we reached a small village. Here, we were able to ask for directions, and we managed to get back on track.
Finally, around midnight, we reached Agartala, exhausted and wet. Our adventure had been dramatic, filled with unexpected turns, but it was an experience we would never forget. We realized how sometimes curiosity can lead us to unplanned adventures.