"Your Majesty, why did you bring a jute bag with you?" Minister Bagalacharan whispered in a low voice when he asked the question, and King Nepalchandra, irritated, turned sharply towards him and said, "How dare you call this a jute bag, when the queen herself worked on this beautiful colorful thread work by hand? Have you completely lost your sense of judgment?"
Minister, somewhat embarrassed, replied, "I didn’t know it was made by the queen. But what’s inside it?"
The king, adjusting the jute bag on his shoulder, whispered back, "This bag isn’t heavy. There’s a pencil torch, some gold coins, and a bit of dry food. It’ll come in handy if needed on the road. When I feel hungry, I can’t stand it. Now, let’s not waste any more time, we need to leave."
The minister had already guessed the reason for the bag, but still asked to be sure. Looking at Nepalchandra, he said, "Are you taking food again? You had a good meal last night. Why is food necessary now? It’s only for one day! If you keep eating so much, it’ll become a problem!"
The king replied gravely, "When I’m hungry, my hands and feet go cold, which I’m sure you know. Besides, who waits by the road with food when one’s hungry?"
The minister nodded and said, "I haven’t heard of any kingdom around here where food is given away for free by the roadside, though surely shops are around, and you can buy food if you pay."
"Enough talk, no need to delay," said the king, opening the gate.
Until then, inside the palace, the king and the minister had been speaking in low voices in front of the gate.
Anandpur was silent, deep in sleep. In this kingdom, the sound of birds wakes everyone, and preparations for sleep begin shortly after sunset. Here, humans coexist peacefully with nature.
King Nepalchandra and Minister Bagalacharan, disguised, stepped out of the palace, accompanied by their beloved horses. Though they had risen to their positions, their friendship had not changed; their bond remained strong, as it had been since childhood. After stepping out of the palace, they were joined by Queen Rupmati, who quietly left her bed, locked the king’s bedroom door, and went back to her own room. The minister always kept the queen informed about the kingdom’s matters, consulting with her when necessary. Whenever the king needed to travel outside the palace, the queen would make sure that everything – food, clothing, and other necessities – was carefully arranged, so the king could easily access them. This all happened without the king knowing, though the minister and queen were fully aware of it. To avoid the queen’s interference, the king kept his travel plans secret. The queen enjoyed this playful behavior of the king, which she had known from the start. She alone was fully aware of all matters of the kingdom and had her trusted people relay all the news. Truly, the kingdom was in her hands, and under her careful management, everything ran smoothly.
Inside the palace, the queen, along with the servants, lived like one big family. Anandpur’s palace was never extravagant; all events were held with the people of the kingdom. On the day of the coronation, the people would cheer, dance, and feast together. The king Nepalchandra didn’t often attend court, as the people had no serious complaints. Instead, they would think carefully and then bring any issues to his attention. So, the throne had to be cleaned and prepared regularly, and the king was often left waiting to hear the complaints of the people. Though unwilling to engage in unnecessary wars, Nepalchandra had developed alliances with neighboring kings, and trade and exchange between the kingdoms was frequent. The king's ancestors’ ancient weapons needed to be polished from time to time to maintain them. During his leisure time, the queen would carefully store away the old royal clothes, making sure they were in perfect condition. Whenever the tailor came to take measurements, the king would close the door, as he strongly objected to wearing royal attire outside the palace. Although other kingdoms embraced modernity, Anandpur maintained its ancient customs, with everyone living in harmony. Amidst all of this, the king and minister would sometimes sneak out in disguise to travel.
Today, riding his favorite white horse, the king Nepalchandra said, "Come, Tufan, let’s head north."
Minister Bagalacharan, also caressing his brown and white-spotted horse, replied, "Brown, after many years, we’re going to another kingdom. It’s a long journey, so we’ll rest if we get tired. Let’s go now."
With the two riders aboard, the horses Tufan and Brown galloped at a fast pace. They left the wide royal road and took the winding paths through the forest. Occasionally, they would stop, but then quickly resume their journey. The sky above was clear, and the moon’s silver light spread over everything. The evening star had just begun to drowse when the old moon, looking down, teased, "Are you sleeping already, little star? Look below, there are two riders racing on horseback. If you don’t light the path, they might get lost."
The evening star, feeling shy, blinked and said, "The sky is full of stars lighting up, and the north star shines brightly, so I think everything will be fine. I did doze off a little while working in the western sky, but I’m awake now. You go rest in the moon’s room, and I’ll be fine."
The old moon smiled and said, "I’ll spin some more thread and weave my magic across the earth, so everyone can dream sweet dreams tonight."
Meanwhile, Nepalchandra and Bagalacharan arrived at a tunnel at the kingdom’s border and let the horses rest. The minister had already made sure that Tufan and Brown had enough food and water for the journey. These trained horses always knew where to go, and whenever the king and minister were ready to return, they would be waiting in the right place. Animals always seemed to sense things in advance. The wind carried the scent of living beings, and the light of the sun and stars helped animals see the world more clearly.
After a brief rest, they continued on foot, with the minister opening a hidden door at the tunnel’s entrance. As they made their way through, the king and minister finally arrived at Jhimjhimpur. The silence of the night was replaced by activity, lights, and a festive atmosphere.
Nepalchandra was astonished. "This is Jhimjhimpur, but no one is sleeping! Why are there so many people on the roads at this hour? Do the people here never sleep, or is today a special day?"
"I’m not sure either!" replied the minister, equally perplexed.
Even though he was a king, Nepalchandra had always been a bit of a coward. Whispering in the minister’s ear, he said, "If there’s trouble, it’s better we return to our land, Bagala!"
Bagalacharan rolled his eyes at Nepalchandra and said,
"This is exactly why I get frustrated seeing you! You’ve become the Maharaja! Ugh! In an unfamiliar place, someone calls you by name? What’s the point of calling by name if you’re in disguise? When will you ever learn?"
Nepalchandra silently swallowed the minister’s scolding and then opened the steel tiffin box from his shoulder bag. He popped a few sesame sweets into his mouth and began chewing. As soon as the food entered his stomach, the fear of the royal duties seemed to disappear. Bagalacharan, glancing sideways, stretched out his hand. Nepalchandra handed him a sweet and stuffed the tiffin box back into his bag.
"One cannot enjoy separate fruits all at once! This is not right," said Bagalacharan, continuing to eat the sweet as they moved forward.
Ahead of them, in the glittering courtyard outside the royal palace, a large crowd had gathered. The gates were open, so Nepalchandra and Bagalacharan walked in.
Pushing through the crowd a little, they saw large brass pots and containers placed in the courtyard, most of them empty, but several of them were filled to the brim with syrupy rasgullas floating in the liquid.
Bagalacharan whispered to Nepalchandra, “It looks like they’re having a food competition.”
Several contestants were lying on the marble floor, their hands dirty. Many of them were shirtless, while others wore clothes that were open or loosely tied. The palace attendants were checking their heartbeats to confirm they were alive and then carrying them away to another spot. Only two contestants remained, slowly eating the rasgullas.
Nepalchandra, with his mouth watering, said, “Ah, it’s just a rasgulla eating competition!”
A young man standing nearby, with a dark complexion and a sturdy frame, turned to Nepalchandra upon hearing his voice and said softly, "Are you new to this kingdom? Everyone here knows about the annual sweet-eating competition. Many contestants actually fall ill. It started at seven in the evening, and now it’s two in the morning! How do they eat so much? Why do they eat? It’s like they have the stomachs of elephants. Who will survive this, I wonder? Fatke or Manke?”
Bagalacharan, curious, asked, “Fatke and Manke… Is it Fatik and Manik? Do they participate every year? Why do some fail? Do they drop out?”
The young man paused for a moment and then, with teary eyes and a choked voice, said, "Only one person has ever dropped out. They’re all regular participants. Fatik’s tongue has no sense anymore. And Manik! He’s another level. To win this competition, he chews five hundred raw chilies every day."
Nepalchandra, intrigued, asked, “Why raw chilies? Why do you need to eat chilies to participate in a rasgulla-eating contest?”
Bagalacharan also asked, “Who was the one who dropped out?”
The young man replied, “I can tell you don’t know anything about this kingdom. The rasgullas here are made in a special way. My grandfather, about ten years ago, left home after a quarrel with my father and grandmother. He wandered for a while, and eventually, he ended up in this kingdom. He hadn’t eaten properly for days, and in his hunger, he joined the competition without knowing the rules. No one at home knew about this. Many years later, when people started talking about his appearance, we realized what had happened. Such a brave man, he died in an accident. That’s the fate of those who die like this, right? There was no way to perform the final rites. My whole family is still mourning. When I grew up, I started coming here every year in the hope of finding more information about my grandfather. This kingdom is usually quiet all year, but it comes alive only on this night. But until today, I’ve learned nothing accurate. In fact, they don’t know the truth themselves." The young man broke into tears after saying this.
Nepalchandra’s heart softened. Seeing the young man cry, his eyes too filled with tears. He placed his hand on the young man’s shoulder and said, “Anyone who carries the sorrow of their loved ones for so many years is truly a kind-hearted person. He must surely be in heaven.”
"Heaven? What’s that place? If there was a way to get there, I’d go. He never went anywhere in life. He left the village and somehow ended up here," said the simple young man, wiping his eyes with his cloth.
Bagalacharan intervened, "If we learn any news, we’ll surely let you know."
"Now no more crying," the man from Jhimpimpur said with a stern expression. "Today, anyone who wants to eat rosogolla will be served."
"Ah, great! Where should we go to ask for it?" The king couldn't wait any longer.
"When the winner of the competition is announced, it will be served here in the courtyard," the man said. No sooner had he finished speaking, than one of the contestants suddenly collapsed with a loud thud on the ground, his massive stomach standing still like a football.
The crowd erupted in excitement, "Manik has collapsed! Phatik has won at the gate!"
From the first-floor balcony of the palace, a tall, stocky man wearing a glittering outfit and a large turban, with a voice as booming as thunder, announced, "This year's winner is Phatik Das. His prize will be delivered to his home on time. The event concludes for today."
"Who is the one who announced this?" Nepalchandra asked the young man standing nearby, who replied, "That is the king of Jhimpimpur, Jhinkutchandra."
Nepalchandra and Baglacharan looked at Jhinkutchandra in surprise. Baglacharan said, "A man of such small stature with such a loud voice!" Then he asked the young man, "Isn't there a queen in this kingdom?"
The young man, looking surprised, replied, "Oh! If there's a king, there has to be a queen! Look, there she is, standing on the second-floor balcony, wearing a yellow-bordered blue saree and a crown of jasmine flowers. Actually, she’s taller than the king, so they don’t stand together."
The queen, incredibly beautiful, had a deep sadness on her face. As soon as the competition ended, she left for the inner palace.
Nepalchandra, looking in her direction, asked, "Why is it that neither the king nor the queen has a natural smile on their faces? The people too seem like puppets without life!"
"The state of the kingdom has been like this ever since Princess Ranjabati left the palace."
Baglacharan became curious, "Why did the princess leave?"
"Ranjabati, since childhood, preferred a simple life. The royal palace felt like a prison to her. Often, without anyone knowing, she would ride off on a horse and go wandering. Once, during one such escapade, she met a foreign young man, and secretly married him. When the king, Jhinkutchandra, learned of it, he became furious because the young man did not belong to their aristocratic lineage. He ignored the queen’s plea, imprisoned mother and daughter, and exiled the young man from the kingdom. Then one day, taking an opportunity, Ranjabati fled and went missing. Since then, the king has been in grief, unable to sleep properly, and doesn’t allow anyone else to sleep either. The people live in constant fear. The king’s unpredictability and reckless actions have also drained the queen of any happiness." The young man seemed well-informed.
The royal attendant, yawning, informed, "Now, those interested in eating rosogolla should take their seats."
But no one seemed interested in eating the sweets; everyone was leaving!
"Are they not eating?" Nepalchandra was puzzled.
An old man, who had been listening to their conversation, finally spoke, "It’s already forbidden to sleep in this kingdom. One has to sleep while dozing off at home. Most of the time, people fall asleep while dozing. To keep it secret, the people lock all windows and doors beforehand. And even then, there's no peace! People wake up startled for no reason while sleeping. If the king finds out, it’s disaster. They have to eat rosogolla for seven days as punishment. And if they eat rosogolla, they can’t sleep. They just have to drink water! There are bushes here, but no rivers or waterfalls. Water is a big issue. Who wants to burn in thirst?"
The old man smiled slightly, tapping his cane, and slowly walked away.
Moments ago, the chaos had quieted down, and now there was complete silence. Nepalchandra, Baglacharan, and the young man were still standing. The royal attendant approached them and chuckled, "You three must be planning to eat rosogolla! So eager to eat! Well, sit and enjoy, I’m off." He gave an order to a nearby cook, "Give them special rosogolla to eat with care."
The cook, looking half-asleep, set three pots of rosogolla and three glasses of water in front of them, "Eat as much as you can, but there’s no more water. I haven’t slept all day. I’ll go out for a breath of fresh air, or else I’ll fall asleep right here."
Baglacharan pinched Nepalchandra, "We have to leave now. There’s something wrong, or else they wouldn’t have abandoned the rosogolla!"
Nepalchandra, who always felt comfortable eating, didn’t pay much attention to Baglacharan’s warning. He went ahead and started eating, while Baglacharan reluctantly followed. "You’ll get into trouble, eating so much in a foreign place like this."
By the time Nepalchandra had stuffed three or four rosogollas in his mouth, chewing happily, the minister reluctantly ate one too. The moment they did, both of their bodies seemed to turn into fire! The young man, who had been sitting quietly, put a piece of rosogolla in his mouth and then stopped eating. Nepalchandra was now panting, muttering, "Yes...yes...this is unbearable!" as he gulped down water.
"Water, water!" Tears streamed from Nepalchandra’s eyes. "What is this rosogolla! It’s like a chili ball! I’ve never tasted such spicy rosogolla. How did the competitors eat this for so long? I need more water, or I’ll die!"
Fearing Nepalchandra might finish his glass of water, the young man quickly drank his own glass in one gulp, then stood up. "This is why Thorhori Das died. I told you, Phatik’s tongue is numb, and Manik eats a pile of chili every day. Thorhori Das had no such habit. Thinking it was real rosogolla, he entered the competition without knowing what he was in for. According to the rules, the contestants must keep eating until they collapse. Thorhori Das, ashamed to leave in the middle of the competition, forced himself to eat a hundred rosogollas and then lay down, never to get up again. No one knows where his body was taken. I wonder where Jhinkutchandra’s people hid it!"
"Thorhori Das! Who was he?" Baglacharan casually took a sip of his water, then poured the rest into Nepalchandra’s mouth.
"Narhari Das's grandfather!"
"Who is Narhari?"
"After listening to the seven parts of the Ramayana, now you're asking who Sita is? My grandfather's name is Thorhari, and now you understand, I am Narhari. A small village surrounded by hills and forests, called Akashkusum, is where my home is. I walk here, eat a bit of Rasgulla, pray for my grandfather's soul, and then head back home. My mother, father, and grandmother eagerly wait for me to return."
"Thorhari's companion was Bagha, it would have been great if we could find him!" Nepalchandra asks suspiciously, "Didn't Thorhari leave home with Bagha?"
"Neither of them has been found. It seems as though both vanished into thin air," Narhari stands up and quickly walks past the gate, disappearing.
Boglacharan pulls Nepalchandra by the hand, saying, "Let's leave right now, we can't stay here for another moment."
In the sky, the North Star shines brightly, watching them. The moon's old woman is fast asleep. A little while ago, a cloud whispered into the North Star's ear, "Even though she is so old, she still weaves the magic thread every day. She fell asleep a little while ago, let me make sure she doesn't wake up." The cloud hovers near the moon's house, covering the old woman's face, like a curtain. The North Star quietly thinks, "I have suffered so much! I stood still all night, guiding everyone. My life has been spent this way! Anyway, not much longer, soon it will be dawn, and then I will go inside and lock the door to sleep."
Meanwhile, Nepalchandra and Boglacharan, after walking for quite a distance, stop in a secluded spot. They feel as though someone is following them. Boglacharan turns back and clears his throat, "Who’s there? Who's following us?"
"It must be a ghost! Ram, Ram!" Nepalchandra grabs Boglacharan's hand tightly.
"Napla, no more nonsense, let's run!"
They run for a while, and after some distance, Nepalchandra stops, breathless, "My legs hurt, I can't run anymore."
"Monitoring the king’s actions is costing me my life! What a bad fate to be born like this! Who would want to be a minister to such an idle, cowardly king! I had no choice because you are my friend!" Boglacharan complains, panting. "I couldn't even drink water, my tongue still burns."
Nepalchandra sits down on the broken steps of a one-story house, pulling out a steel box from his bag and extracting some tongue candies.
"Place the candy on your tongue, it will help with the burning sensation. There’s more, but I forgot to bring water."
Boglacharan puts the candy in his mouth, scanning the area in the dim light, but sees no houses. The surrounding path is quiet, lined with trees and bushes. The air carries the scent of wildflowers, and fireflies flicker in the distance.
Nepalchandra inspects the house closely and says, "This place is falling apart, no one lives here. Is it a ghost’s house?"
As soon as he hears this, Nepalchandra freezes, his candy stuck on his tongue. His voice falters as he says, "A ghost again! Oh Bogla, let's go home! I don't want to die like this."
Boglacharan pushes open the door, which creaks. Inside, there's a musty smell, and the dim glow of countless fireflies illuminates the room, with the sound of crickets chirping.
Nepalchandra tightly grips Boglacharan’s hand as they enter the house, "Whether it’s a ghost or a human, they smell awful, they don't bathe."
Boglacharan scoffs, "How can ghosts bathe?"
Nepalchandra, regaining a bit of courage, says, "How can anyone sleep with the constant noise of these crickets?"
"Enough of this nonsense! Ghosts don't sleep, especially at night! They only come out at night because they are afraid of humans," the minister presses his nose, "It would have been better if we had gone to Narhari's Akashkusum village instead."
"What's that bright red light in the distance? Is it a reflection?" Nepalchandra suddenly stops and, with a shaky voice, says, "Ram, Ram!" He closes his eyes, trembling uncontrollably.
"Forget the chanting, quickly take out the pencil torch from your bag."
At that moment, they hear a rustling noise, and the source of the red light becomes visible:
A striped tiger!
Once upon a time, Nepalchandra and Boglacharan used to wander in the forests, but they never hunted or killed animals. Now, standing face to face with the tiger, they are both paralyzed with fear.
As the tiger moved a bit closer and sat down, the king and minister both felt sorrow seeing its emaciated body with ribs sticking out.
Bogalacharan said in a sorrowful voice, "Oh! I’ve never seen such a thin tiger before."
"Neither have I! Is it fasting or something?" By then, Nepalchandra had taken out a torch from his bag and turned it on. Immediately, a soft voice echoed, "Oh, what’s the need to turn on the light? The light doesn’t work properly, turn it off quickly."
Nepalchandra turned off the torch and, guessing, took out something from his bag. He first put it in the minister's mouth and then in his own.
"Ah, there are sweets in the bag!" Bogalacharan relished them slowly, "The taste of sweets filled with kheer is different!"
After chewing the sweets, Nepalchandra regained his courage and said loudly to the invisible person, "If you don’t speak properly, I’ll turn the light back on! And this time, even if you ask me to turn it off, I won’t!"
"You were just talking about the man Narhari from Akashkusum village, right! I am his grandfather." The figure of the man slowly materializes behind the tiger.
The king and minister pinched each other in disbelief. Bogalacharan murmured, "That means he is Tharhari Das."
Tharhari could not hear the minister's words. His raspy voice was heard saying, "My grandson was very stubborn."
"Your grandson also often comes looking for you in this kingdom, don’t you know?" Bogalacharan asked.
"I know. I also know that I’ve met you today." Tharhari’s melancholic voice could be heard.
Now Nepalchandra was also surprised, "Then! You’re speaking to us, not your grandson, why?"
"For the tiger."
"Is the tiger your pet dog? Where is it now? And why is this tiger so thin?" Nepalchandra turned on the torch again and looked around carefully before sitting down. "I can’t stand anymore."
Tharhari’s old hand rested on the tiger's bony back. "This is Baghya."
Bogalacharan sat next to Nepalchandra, "Tell us everything. I don’t understand anything."
Tharhari started telling his story in a soft, grim voice: "Around Akashkusum village, there are small hills and jungles. The people there survive by farming, cutting wood from the forests, collecting fruits, honey, and raising cattle. They’re unaware of the outside world. Though poor, they’re peaceful. I also used to go into the forest to collect wood, and at home, we had bulls, cows, and goats. My son worked the fields. One time, a white cow in the stable gave birth to a calf, and I took it into the jungle to feed it grass. While wandering, I would gather fruits, vegetables, and other things before returning home. One day, the white cow disappeared, and while searching for it, I came across Baghya. The tiger was drinking milk from the white cow’s udder. I was astonished! A tiger cub, and it was alone! It seemed over a year old. Why wasn’t it eating meat? Why was it drinking milk? I’ve always been brave, so I secretly observed for a few days. I saw the tigress stay away, watching her cub drink, but she never attacked the cow. After several days without seeing the tigress, I went into the jungle without the cow, and there I saw Baghya, hiding in the bushes, crying softly. I climbed a tree to observe. Hours passed, from morning to afternoon, and then evening, before I slowly approached the tiger. It came to me and started licking my hand. That’s when I realized why the tigress had abandoned it. It was alone because it was not fit to hunt."
Nepalchandra listened quietly. When Tharhari stopped, he asked, "Why? Why?"
"Because the tiger had no teeth or claws."
"What do you mean?"
Tharhari’s sorrowful voice drifted in the air, "In human society, children are born with disabilities—blind, mute, or with other physical or mental challenges. It must happen with animals too. While humans can adjust, a tiger without teeth and claws cannot hunt. It cannot eat! Who will look after it for life? When I saw Baghya, I felt deeply for it. But when I brought it home, my wife and son were horrified. My son’s wife was so scared, she grabbed my little grandson and ran. Ignoring them, I went to the kitchen, mixed rice and milk, and put it in front of Baghya. It ate it all up, weeping. Then the villagers found out, and they came to our house, ready to attack. No one believed that Baghya wouldn’t harm them. They always came with sticks. So, I kept Baghya with me. A few months later, I woke up one morning to find Baghya missing. I searched everywhere, calling out, but couldn’t find it. Then my son, smiling slyly, said, 'Baghya must have gone back to the jungle.'"
"I understood that he was lying. Baghya never leaves me. Without me, there is no one to care for it. Without saying anything, I packed some dry chire (flattened rice) and mukhri (snacks) and set off. I found Baghya hiding in a hole in the jungle. When I approached, it jumped onto me and licked my face. I fed it the chire and mukhri soaked in water, and it devoured it. After that, we never went back home, and I disappeared with Baghya into the wild."
"What happened next?" Bogalacharan asked quietly, having listened intently.
"Roaming in the forests, we ended up in this kingdom. I got caught in a competition for food and was abandoned behind a garden by the king’s men. Baghya dragged my body to this ruined house, and since then, we’ve been here. The problem now is, I’m not hungry, but Baghya is. I can’t find enough food for it, and it’s growing weaker. If things continue like this, it will die. I can't die peacefully knowing that."
Nepalchandra asked, "So, how have you been getting food for Baghya all this time?"
Tharhari chuckled softly, "The ghosts can do many things, even stretch their arms. So, when I can, I steal whatever I can from the house, shops, or markets. But I can't carry much with my frail body. Baghya now eats whatever it can find—biscuits, puffed rice, bread, sweets—anything except bones or fishbones."
"Hmm." Nepalchandra took out more sweets from his bag and placed them in front of Baghya, who eagerly devoured them.
Tharhari continued, "Until now, no one has come to this ruined house except you. Now that you're here, can you do me a favor?"
"Favor? What kind of favor?" Bogalacharan asked.
"If you give the king the news of the lost princess Ranjabati, he will grant you any wish. All I want is a proper food supply for Baghya."
Bogalacharan asked, "You know the princess's whereabouts? But she left voluntarily and refuses to come back!"
"That’s true. But if you can explain everything to her and arrange a meeting with the king and queen, something can be worked out. After so many years, surely Jhinkutchandra must have regrets. She’s his only daughter. When they meet, all their misunderstandings will end, and they’ll sort out everything themselves. I’m only concerned about Baghya."
By now, Baghya had finished the sweets and was sitting, listening to them.
"In a while, dawn will break. We need to return to our place before then. How far is the princess?" Bogalacharan stood up.
Tharhari’s shadowy figure moved towards the back of the ruined house, and Baghya followed. Bogalacharan took Nepalchandra’s hand and helped him up.
"You have to be careful. I wonder why Jhinkutchandra’s men haven’t come here. There’s a secret tunnel near an old banyan tree. If you walk through it for about half an hour, you’ll reach a small river. On the other side, there’s a boat. Untie the rope, and it will float toward Ranjabati’s place."
Reaching the banyan tree, the entrance to the tunnel appeared. Tharhari's body floated above the ground as he led the way. Nepalchandra, Bogalacharan, and Baghya followed him.
The evening star was now visible in the eastern sky. Only when Sujjimama rises will the task be complete. As they crossed the river in the boat, they arrived at a neat village, with several huts and green trees lining the roads.
"Ranjabati lives in the first hut. The other huts are where her students live." Tharhari’s words left the king and minister in awe.
Nepalchandra asked, "Ranjabati’s students?"
"There are several indigenous families in the village, and their children are her students.
Ranjabati’s husband, a foreigner, is the chief of the indigenous people. He teaches various subjects, including music, while Ranjabati teaches dance. They have no connection with Zhimzhimpur."
At that moment, the door of the nearest hut opened, and a beautiful woman emerged. Nepalchandra stood by the riverbank, while Bogalacharan approached with folded hands, saying, "You must be Ranjabati. We’ve come with a request."
Ranjabati, with her eyes wide open, smiled gently and said, “The news of the tunnel to come here is not something for ordinary people to know!”
“Quite right. I’ll be brief.” Boga Lacharan, keeping their true identities hidden, explained everything, and as he spoke, a melancholy spread across Ranjabati's face. She said in a slow voice, “You can leave the tiger here, and I will take responsibility for its care. After hearing everything from your mouth, I can go with my two daughters to the palace to meet everyone, but I won’t stay there; I’ll return.”
Boga Lacharan, expressing gratitude, said, “I hope the meeting will bring good results.”
As Boga Lacharan was about to leave, Ranjabati said, “Are you leaving with empty hands? Don’t deprive me of the joy of hosting guests!”
“I’ve made some simple arrangements; please take your seats.” A male voice was heard, and the king and minister saw Ranjabati’s husband. A handsome young man with a dark complexion, tall and graceful, with intelligent eyes, appeared holding the hands of two daughters like flowers, and said, “Ranjabati, hurry up and get ready.”
Nepal Chandra and Boga Lacharan entered the hut and saw a neat, clean earthen floor with a large brass bowl of soaked puffed rice, another bowl of milk, two fresh bananas and jaggery in a tray, and a brass glass of water. Both ate with great satisfaction. Tharhori whispered near their ears, “The tiger has had a full meal of milk and rice after a long time.”
The king and the minister, through the open door of the hut, saw the tiger eating under the banyan tree in the distance, with Ranjabati elegantly standing in front, holding the hands of her two daughters.
As Ranjabati, with her daughters, arrived at Jhinkutipur, an overwhelming wave of joy spread throughout the kingdom. The news of their arrival reached the royal palace, and as it did, the queen rushed out to embrace her daughter, while Jhinkut Chandra lifted his two granddaughters in his arms.
Upon hearing the reason for Ranjabati's return to the royal palace, Jhinkut Chandra, feeling embarrassed, took the princess's hand and pleaded, “Don’t leave again. Stay in this kingdom. I will personally ask for forgiveness from your husband.”
“We can think about that later. For now, please talk to these gentlemen.” Ranjabati pointed to Nepal Chandra and Boga Lacharan, and Jhinkut Chandra, showing gratitude, asked, “Would you like any gifts?”
“We take joy in everyone’s happiness,” Nepal Chandra said, “I invite you to the Kingdom of Anandpur.”
“You?” Ranjabati asked.
“He is the king of Anandpur, Nepal Chandra, and I am his minister, Boga Lacharan.” Boga Lacharan folded his hands and introduced themselves, and Jhinkut Chandra welcomed them with respect.
The news reached Tharhori’s house, and arrangements were made for his reception.
After bidding farewell to everyone, the king and the minister set off toward the Kingdom of Anandpur. As they entered the tunnel path, Tufan and Badami came up to them.
Boga Lacharan mounted Badami, while Nepal Chandra, meanwhile, opened a tin from his shoulder bag and began eating the remaining sweets. Looking at him, Boga Lacharan laughed heartily, saying, “So, this is what they call a gluttonous king?”
Nepal Chandra, smiling, moved towards the minister, handed him the bag, and while mounting Tufan, said, “A king shouldn’t carry a bag in the daylight. Let’s start our journey now.”
“I understand, Your Majesty.”
Together, the king and minister urged their horses onward.