I was supposed to post this story yesterday but decided to celebrate my birthday with my friends instead. It’s been a while since I last met up with them and it felt so good sitting with them and having a great time with some beer in our hands. It was something I needed. My mental health wasn’t doing so good in the past few weeks and meeting my friends helped a lot.

Sacred Grove is a story inspired by one of the many Khasi folklore passed down from one generation to another. Even in today’s day and age, there are a few rules that we don’t dare break. One of them is taking anything or tarnishing the ‘Law Kyntang’ or Sacred Grove. I really enjoyed writing the story and I hope you all enjoy reading it as well. The featured image is a picture of me visiting one of the living root bridges in my state.

***

A bright red van stood by the side of the narrow country road. It was an anomaly. A stark contrast against the rolling green hills and the grey morning mist that swept through the valley. With one tattooed arm leaning on the window sill, the driver took a drag. The cigarette smoke curled up into his nostrils only to be exhaled out. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, stealing glances at his wristwatch while his mind wandered. In a week, the State photography competition was going to be held. Dapher could think of only one thing; bringing the trophy home. He needed the money and the recognition that came with it.  

A lone figure emerged from one of the small, tin-roofed cottages that dotted the landscape. The adolescent boy ran towards the van with a shawl wrapped around his body like Little Red Riding Hood.

“I’m so sorry for keeping you waiting,” The boy said with a big sheepish grin.

“It’s no problem,” Dapher said, unlocking the car door to allow Jop to climb in.

Once Jop was inside, Dapher revved the car engine, and off they went, resuming the journey towards their destination.

“How much further from here?” Dapher asked, extinguishing his cigarette in one of the empty cup holders before throwing it out the window.

“About twenty minutes,” Jop answered, looking out the window at the landscape whisking by. “Once we’re in the sacred grove, you can’t do whatever you want. There are rules we all must follow.” Jop turned to look at the bearded man behind the wheel.

“What do you mean?” Dapher asked, manoeuvring his van through the potholed road. The ride was so bumpy the car was no better than a horse-drawn cart.

“Don’t take anything from the sacred grove. Whatever you find in the forest stays in the forest. Everything within its territory belongs to the forest gods. It’s a holy place, and if you break this important rule, you will be punished,” Jop reiterated the one rule that was drilled into every Khasi child’s brain with an edge to his voice. It was a warning not to be taken lightly. 

Dapher grew up hearing stories about the Sacred Grove, or Law Kyntang. He always thought it was a tactic to prevent people from destroying the forest. But hearing Jop remind him of the rule made it more real. Even though Christianity had taken over the state, the tribe never forgot its roots. Regardless of religion, the people always respected the ancestral gods.  

“I know you’ve come here to take pictures for your competition. But certain areas are off-limits even for pictures. You don’t need to worry about that. I’ll tell you where you can take pictures and where you can’t.”

“Alright.”

They reached a large clearing, and Dapher killed the engine. The mighty trees marked the beginning of the sacred forest that covered the valley. Dapher watched the tree tops sway in the wind as if waving at him. A groan resonated through the forest, sending a shiver up the photographer’s spine. The trees appeared to grow taller, and the forest denser the longer Dapher stared. An ominous power resonated around the area as if daring anyone to enter its domain. The clouds parted, and sunlight shone through, alleviating the aura surrounding the area. 

“Whatever you do, do not wander off on your own,” Jop said, waiting by the side of the car while Dapher strapped his gear to his body. Armed with a bamboo stick in one hand, the two men ventured into the forest.

For a few minutes, the grove was silent as if it were holding its breath. As they kept walking, the forest seemed to lose its coyness. With his camera ready, Dapher watched squirrels chase each other through the dense foliage. Wild orchids bloomed in kaleidoscopic colours, standing out against the background of green and brown while the call of the Horn Bill echoed through the forest. After every few metres, the camera shutter snapped, capturing a dozen images. The array of stories the forest offered was endless. Jop led Dapher through clear springs and picturesque waterfalls that plunged like beautiful lace curtains. As they stopped to rest, Jop looked at Dapher, contemplating a tough decision. 

“What is it?” Dapher asked, taking a sip of water to quench his thirst.

“There’s this place that is beautiful beyond imagination. But I promised my parents I wouldn’t take you there.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s a place where even photography isn’t allowed. Taking you there is like dangling a juicy red apple, knowing you can never have it.”

“I’m sure it’s just going to be a variation of something I’ve seen before,” Dapher said, baiting the boy.

“Trust me, even we’ve never seen something quite like it. I’ll take you there if and only if you promise me not to take any pictures,” Jop said.

“I promise,” Dapher leaned on his bamboo stick and stood up.

Jop led his city friend down a steep, muddy slope that caved with every misstep. Dapher cursed under his breath as he slid on his behind. With dirty hands, he pushed himself back on his feet. Dapher winced in pain as he took another step forward. Sweat dripped from his forehead, and his breathing became laboured. While Jop jumped from one rock to another with the energy of a Border Collie, his green shawl fluttering in the wind. Dapher found solace in the growing sound of the massive waterfall with each step. They waded through branches of trees until they cleared, revealing a majestic waterfall cascading over glistening rocks.

Dapher’s voice got stuck in his throat as he watched the thundering water drop into a plunge pool with waters so blue that a school of fish swimming across was visible to the naked eye. The countless shallow pools shimmered in the sunlight, dotting the landscape like crystals. A flock of migratory birds flew past him and up to the nearest tree tops. Dapher looked up to see a rainbow in the misty air above his head. The place was nothing short of magical. Dapher’s hand shot to his camera bag, but Jop was just as fast. He swatted Dapher’s hand with his bamboo stick.

“You don’t understand. This is my winning shot,” Dapher pleaded, rubbing his sore hand.

“I told you, pictures are off limits.”

“It’s just a picture, Jop. It’s not going to do any harm.”

“A picture captures the essence of a place. It is still stealing,” Jop said with a raised voice. “They say the forest gods come to bathe here. You taking a picture violates the sacredness of this place.”

The sudden rustle of a bush nearby startled the two men. A tall, sinewy stag with the large antlers walked out of the undergrowth with its chest pushed out. It was a young stag, but its eyes looked ancient. They were eyes that had seen a thousand revolutions.

“Bow,” Jop hissed, pushing Dapher’s head low while bowing down himself. “Whatever you do, do not look up.”

The two men stayed still, not daring to move a muscle. The hair on their arms stood as the stag moved towards them. Sweat dripped from their foreheads while their heart thundered in their chests. Dapher focused on the massive hooves that stopped in front of him. He fought the urge to look up into its eyes. Intuition told him it would be the last thing he saw. The stag sniffed his head before turning its attention to the clear water. He bent his large head and drank from the pristine river water. Without a second thought, it disappeared into the thicket. 

“That was close,” Jop said, breathing a sigh of relief.

Dapher would never admit it, but he was relieved as well. Never in his life had he felt so small and powerless before. Maybe reminders of Khasi rules and traditions made him feel that way. After all, it was just a stag, a creature whose primary diet was grass. The picture of the stag drinking water against the backdrop of the waterfall would have won him the prize in the competition. Dapher cursed himself for being such a coward.

Dapher and Jop sat by the river, their feet dipped in the cold water. They ate in silence, enjoying the sound of nature. The sound of the waterfall and the chirping birds as the wind blew was so peaceful; it was cathartic to the soul. After finishing their meal, they diligently cleaned up, leaving no trace of dirt or mess behind. Jop ventured further into the water to wash his hands and face. Seizing the opportunity, Dapher pulled out his phone, snapped a few dozen pictures and placed it back into his pocket before he got caught. Dapher missed his shot once. He wasn’t going to miss it again. 

“It’s time we head back. We should not be stuck in the forest after the sun sets,” Jop said without further explanation. The forest was eerie enough during the day. Dapher could not imagine what stirred within its domain at night.

They packed their things and began their climb uphill. Coming down the steep slope was tough, but climbing back up was tougher. With one hand digging into the mud and the other holding on to tree branches, Dapher hauled himself up. With every move, his chest tightened, and breathing became difficult. He leaned against a rock to catch his breath, making a promise to quit smoking. 

Dapher collapsed onto the grass, wheezing, as they emerged from the forest. He looked up at the sky painted in deep orange as the clouds drifted by. Dapher lay spread-eagled until his breathing returned to its normal rhythm. 

“We made it out just in time,” Jop said, squatting down. He passed Dapher what was left of their water and watched him gulp it down in seconds.

“You should really quit smoking if you’re going to continue being a nature photographer,” Jop said, helping Dapher get back on his feet.

“I know. It’s killing me from within,” Dapher said, covering his mouth as he coughed violently.

They lumbered towards the van and dumped their equipment in the back seat. Dapher drove back to the village, where he dropped Jop off.

“Thank you so much for today,” Dapher said, shaking Jop’s hand.

“It was nothing. I hope to see you again soon. There’s another place we found.”

“I hope it’s a site where I can take pictures without restrictions.”

“Oh yes, you can do that. We don’t need to enter the sacred grove to reach there. The pathway we found is too dangerous for you city folk. So we’re searching for an alternative route. Once we find it, I will let you know.”

“Thanks, I’ll see you around then.”

They said their goodbyes, and Dapher drove back to the city alone. The night air carried a chill with it. A cough started from deep within his chest that went down only after he stopped at a local food stall for water.

When Dapher reached home, he flung his car keys on the table and dumped his bag on the floor. He lighted the fire and sat by the hearth to keep warm. Dapher covered his mouth with his hand as another bout of cough erupted. The day’s trek had taken its toll on his decaying lungs. He rubbed his chest as a burning sensation spread all around it.

Dapher took out his phone to look at the pictures he sneaked. Even though the pictures did not do justice to what his naked eyes saw, they were still impressive to behold. Jop was right. Dapher managed to capture the essence of the place. The pictures were shrouded with mysticism as if they were taken in a fantasy world.

While examining the pictures, Dapher noticed a white, cloudy head that seemed to materialise from the water. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. With every scroll, the head rose above till the figure stood in the plunge pool, staring at the camera. A vicious bout of cough erupted from deep within his chest, and blood splattered across the screen. Dapher’s hands shook while his heart thundered in his chest. The phone slid from his palm and into his lap as Jop’s words echoed in his head.