In the forgotten village of Kaalpur, there stood an old stone house at the edge of a forest where even sunlight hesitated to enter. The house belonged to seven brothers—Arin, Bhavesh, Chandan, Dev, Eshan, Faruk, and the youngest, Gopal.
They were known as silent men. Strong, hardworking, and loyal to each other, but strangely distant from the rest of the village.
They had one sister.
Her name was Mira.
Mira was different. Where the brothers were rough like stone, she was soft like rain. She sang while cooking, smiled while working, and believed that even cursed places could be healed with kindness.
Their parents had died years ago, leaving behind one final warning:
"No matter what happens… never break the bond of blood."
The brothers took this as a sacred oath.
The Hunger Year
One year, the rain stopped.
Fields cracked. Wells dried. Animals vanished. Hunger crept into every home like a silent killer.
The brothers tried everything—hunting, begging, trading—but Kaalpur had nothing left to give. One by one, villagers left or died.
Mira watched her brothers grow thinner each day. Their eyes lost sleep. Their hands trembled.
One night, she called them together.
"I have heard the forest whispers," she said calmly.
The brothers laughed bitterly. "Hunger makes everyone mad, sister."
"No," Mira replied. "The forest demands a price."
The brothers went silent.
"There is an ancient rule," she continued. "Blood of the same womb… can save blood of the same womb."
Arin stood up angrily. "Enough! We will not listen to this madness."
But Mira only smiled.
The Disappearance
The next morning, Mira was gone.
No footprints. No struggle. Only her red shawl folded neatly near the cooking fire.
The brothers searched the forest for three days. On the fourth day, Dev found something buried near the old banyan tree.
A pot.
Inside was cooked meat.
Beside it lay a note written in Mira's handwriting:
"Do not ask what it is.
Do not ask why.
Eat, and live.
This is my promise."
Faruk dropped the pot in horror.
Chandan vomited.
Gopal cried like a child.
But hunger is louder than fear.
That night, with shaking hands and closed eyes, the seven brothers ate.
No one spoke.
No one slept.
After the Meal
The next day, rain fell.
Not softly—but heavily, angrily, as if the sky itself had been waiting.
Crops began to grow within weeks. Animals returned. The village slowly came back to life.
The brothers grew strong again.
But something else grew too.
Guilt.
At night, they heard Mira's humming near the forest. Sometimes they smelled her cooking. Sometimes they felt her hand on their shoulder while sleeping.
They never spoke of that night again.
Never.
The Seventh Winter
Seven years later, the youngest brother, Gopal, began to fall ill.
He refused food. He stared at walls. He whispered Mira's name.
One night, he screamed.
"They lied to us," he cried. "She didn't leave us food… she became it!"
The brothers tried to silence him.
But Gopal laughed madly.
"You think we survived because of sacrifice?" he said.
"No… we survived because she wanted us to carry the curse."
Before dawn, Gopal vanished.
Near the banyan tree, the brothers found another pot.
And another note.
This time, the handwriting was not Mira's.
It said:
"Blood repaid the debt once.
Now the bond must continue.
Choose… or starve."
The brothers looked at each other.
Outside, the rain had stopped again.
And far away in the forest, someone began to hum.
The End… or the beginning?