Akbar-Birbal & the Haunted Gurukul by Apeksha Rao

Author:Apeksha Rao
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Random House India Private Limited
Published: 2020-03-26T00:00:00+00:00

Akbar opened his mouth to deny that he’d been crying, but Man Singh cut in. ‘Don’t say you weren’t crying. We heard you,’ he said, grinning.

Akbar gave a long sigh. ‘I miss my family. And I don’t have any of my things . . . I don’t even have bedsheets and blankets. And the food . . . is so simple. I miss my aunt’s kheer,’ he wailed.

‘I understand, Akbar. When I was new here, I used to miss my mother’s cooking too,’ sighed Man Singh.

‘Life in the gurukul is nothing like life at home,’ said Birbal with a wise nod, and then went off to fetch another sheet and blanket from his trunk.

‘Here, these should hold you for now. Why don’t you write to your mother and ask her to send you whatever you need?’

Akbar sighed again. He wasn’t allowed to write to his Ammi. Guru Kashyap would write to Gul Phuppo once a month—in code—to let her know that he was still safe. There was to be no communication beyond that.

Birbal saw Akbar’s glum face and nudged him with his elbow. ‘Don’t worry. You can borrow my things until yours arrive,’ he offered.

‘Hey, did you find any ants in your food today?’ asked Man Singh.

‘No,’ Akbar replied sheepishly. He had been a bit of a fool, he realized.

He bent to blow out his candle, but Man Singh grabbed him by the arm. ‘Waaiiiiit a minute! How did you light that candle?’

Akbar turned to him in surprise. ‘Um, I lit it from the lamp in the corridor. Why?’

Birbal and Man Singh stared at him goggle-eyed.

‘Whaaaat! Don’t tell me you went out into the corridor after lights out,’ cried Man Singh.

‘So what if I did?’

Birbal gulped audibly and leaned forward.

‘Did . . . did you see her?’

‘Her who?

‘The ghost of Vishwamitra Gurukul,’ Birbal said dramatically.

Akbar’s mouth fell open. ‘The what of Vishwamitra Gurukul?’ he shrieked.

‘Ssshhh! If you take her name, she’ll come for you,’ said Birbal, shivering.

‘Guys, please tell me you’re joking. This is some sort of first day prank for the new boy, right?’ Akbar said with a nervous laugh.

‘No, we’re not. We’re not idiots. The gurukul is haunted. Always has been. But now it’s getting worse,’ whispered Man Singh.

‘Haunted? By whom?’ Man Singh shuddered.

‘A woman called Bhoomi.’

‘Boo . . . who?’ asked Akbar.

Birbal covered his face. ‘Not boohoo! Bhoomi!

The old woman in the portrait that’s hanging in the corridor. She used to own all this land. And she hated kids. Loathed them. So she stayed to guard the property even after she died,’ he said, his eyes going wide.

‘And she still hates kids,’ added Man Singh.

‘But . . . but . . . what does she do?’

‘She walks around the corridors at night, knocking on doors. You’ll be fine as long as you don’t open the door.’

Akbar’s heart was beating very fast. ‘What happens if you do open the door?’

‘Something HORRIBLE,’ whispered Birbal.

‘Like what?’

Before Birbal could answer—

KNOCK! KNOCK!

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