In a quiet village in Malaysia, nestled among lush landscapes and tales of the past, lived a young boy named Arjun. It was the late 1990s, and Arjun was a curious 12-year-old with a story that would forever alter his perception of the world around him.
Arjun resided in a unique house, once his father’s office, which had later been transformed into a dwelling place. The property belonged to his father’s boss, and it harbored an enigmatic secret.
One scorching Saturday afternoon around 2:00 PM, a time when the sun cast long shadows across the landscape, Arjun found himself at the heart of an inexplicable occurrence. The house lacked a water supply, which meant that every drop of water had to be fetched from a nearby factory, a laborious task involving an 800-meter trek each time.
Frustration had reached its peak, and Arjun’s parents decided to implement a solution. They attached a plastic hose that connected their home to the factory’s water source, thereby ensuring a more convenient water supply. It was a practical solution, or so they thought.
However, on that particular day, when Arjun’s mother had made the trip to the factory alone and returned home, their ingenious water system failed them. The hose remained dry, defying her expectations. She suspected a leak and insisted that Arjun and his sister investigate the issue, even after she had turned the pipe tap on.
With adolescent reluctance, Arjun and his sister mounted their bicycles and set out towards the factory, the source of both their water and their intrigue. The path leading there was an eerie one, shrouded in a sense of foreboding. Just beyond their home lay a vast Muslim cemetery, and the very atmosphere seemed to whisper unsettling secrets.
As they pedaled along the winding road, Arjun and his sister suddenly beheld a sight that would forever haunt their memories. A woman, draped in exquisite Indian attire, stood near a towering tree. Separating them from her was a wide drain, and beyond the tree lay the factory. It was an inexplicable presence; Arjun’s family was the only Indian family in the vicinity, and the dense undergrowth had rendered the area impassable for any human.
Her beauty was ethereal, and she occupied a space by the corner of the office building, just beside the factory. The siblings were overcome with shock, their bicycles coming to a screeching halt. They hastily abandoned their bikes and fled homeward, their hearts racing.
Upon their return, they relayed the inexplicable encounter to their mother, who listened in stunned silence. She, too, had experienced something uncanny during her visits to the factory, hearing the faint but distinct calls of “ma… ma… maaa…” in a male voice that seemed to emanate from the shadows.
The incident left an indelible mark on Arjun and his family, leading them to believe in the mysterious and the supernatural. It was a tale that would echo through the years, reminding them that sometimes, the inexplicable defies reason, and the line between reality and the unknown is thinner than they could ever have imagined.