Treasure Hunter: The Seventh Tide of Andaman
Chapter 3 – Shadows of the Past
S ome stories are told.
Some are performed.
And some—
are remembered by places themselves.
🏛️ Cellular Jail
Evening settled slowly over the prison.
The harsh afternoon light softened.
Shadows stretched longer.
And with them—
the past seemed to rise.
We stepped out of the cell.
Cell XIII.
No one spoke.
Not because we didn’t have questions—
but because none of us were ready for the answers.
“Let’s get back,” Arindam Da said quietly.
Practical again.
Grounded.
But his voice—
carried something else now.
Ishani Di didn’t argue.
That itself was unusual.
We walked back toward the main courtyard.
Tourists moved normally.
Laughter.
Photos.
Voices.
It felt… wrong.
“How can people just walk around like this?” I muttered.
Subho Kaku replied softly—
“Because ora jeta dekhche… seta shudhu building.”
A pause.
“Amra jeta feel korchi… seta history.”
I looked back once.
Toward that corridor.
That cell.
For a moment—
I felt like someone was standing there.
Watching.
But when I blinked—
Nothing.
🌅 Before the Show
By 5:30 PM—
the seating area for the Light & Sound Show began filling up.
“Hindi show 6 PM… English 7 PM,” Binod reminded.
“First ta dekhen… beshi impact.”
We chose the Hindi show.
Better emotion.
Even if not every word is understood—
the feeling carries.
We sat mid-row.
Not too close.
Not too far.
A couple sat beside us.
Newly married, maybe.
The woman smiled at Ishani.
“First time?”
“Yes,” Ishani Di replied.
“You?”
“Second,” the man said proudly.
“First time honeymoon-e eshechilam.”
“Then why again?” I asked.
He smiled.
“Some places call you back.”
I didn’t like how that sounded.
🎧 The Beginning
The lights dimmed.
Darkness spread slowly.
And then—
a voice.
Deep.
Measured.
Narrating history.
Pain.
Resistance.
Lights lit up sections of the jail—
one by one.
A cell.
A corridor.
The gallows.
Each illumination—
felt like a memory being forced into the present.
Ishani Di sat still.
Her hands resting on her lap.
But her fingers—
tight.
Without looking—
Arindam Da moved his hand.
Closer.
This time—
he didn’t stop near.
He touched her hand.
Soft.
Barely noticeable.
She froze for a second.
Then—
slowly—
her fingers curled around his.
No one else noticed.
But I did.
Because this wasn’t comfort.
This was—
fear meeting assurance.
🔥 The Story Unfolds
The narration spoke of prisoners.
Punishments.
Isolation.
A name echoed—
Vinayak Damodar Savarkar
Another—
Batukeshwar Dutt
Familiar names.
Recognized.
Documented.
But then—
The tone shifted.
“…there were many…
whose names were never recorded…”
A pause.
“…men who resisted…
refused to confess…
disappeared into silence…”
The lights flickered.
Just for a second.
I felt it.
A sudden drop.
Like something slipped.
Ishani Di’s grip tightened.
“Did you hear that?” she whispered.
“Hear what?” I asked.
“That part… it felt…”
She stopped.
Arindam Da spoke softly—
“General narration. Nothing specific.”
But his voice—
lacked conviction.
⚡ The Glitch
Then it happened.
The narration stuttered.
Just briefly.
“…one prisoner…
records incomplete…
identity—”
Static.
A sharp crackle.
Then silence.
The lights dimmed unexpectedly.
People shifted in their seats.
“Technical issue,” someone behind us said.
The system recovered.
“…identity unknown…”
The narration continued.
Normal again.
But something—
wasn’t normal.
Ishani Di slowly pulled her hand away.
Not because she wanted to.
Because something else had taken hold.
She opened her bag.
Took out the diary.
Even in the dim light—
I saw it.
Her fingers trembling.
“Arindam…”
He leaned closer.
“Look at this.”
The page—
the same one.
But now—
more words had surfaced.
Faint.
Incomplete.
“…Cellular Jail…
Wing IV…
he refused…
name removed…”
A pause.
Then—
half a line.
“…truth lies beyond the seventh tide…”
The same line.
But now—
it felt different.
Not poetic.
Like a warning.
🧠 The Shift in Arindam
Arindam Da didn’t dismiss it this time.
No logic.
No immediate explanation.
Instead—
he leaned back.
Eyes fixed ahead.
Thinking.
Pen—
Tap.
Tap.
That sound again.
That meant one thing—
He believed something was wrong.
🌊 The End of the Show
The narration ended.
Applause followed.
Lights came back.
People stood.
Talked.
Moved.
Normal returned.
But not for us.
We didn’t move immediately.
The couple beside us smiled again.
“Powerful, right?”
I nodded.
“Yes.”
But Ishani Di didn’t respond.
She was staring at the page.
Lost somewhere between past and present.
🕯️ Outside the Jail
We stepped out.
Night had fallen.
Streetlights flickered on.
The air felt cooler now.
But inside—
something burned.
“Coincidence,” I said finally.
Trying to ground myself.
“No,” Ishani Di replied.
Her voice—
calm.
Certain.
“This is not coincidence.”
Arindam Da looked at her.
Long.
“And if it’s not?”
he asked.
She met his gaze.
“Then someone wanted this to be found.”
Silence.
Subho Kaku spoke softly—
“Or someone didn’t want it to disappear.”
We started walking toward the exit.
And that’s when I noticed it.
A man.
Standing near the gate.
Watching us.
Not casually.
Intentionally.
The moment our eyes met—
he looked away.
Then walked off.
Fast.
“Did you see that?” I asked.
Arindam Da nodded slightly.
“Yes.”
“Tourist?” I asked.
“No,” he replied.
A pause.
“Too aware.”
🔚 End Hook
We reached the car.
Binod opened the door.
“Sir, Corbyn’s Cove?”
No one answered immediately.
Because the sea—
was no longer just a destination.
It was becoming part of something else.
Something deeper.
Something hidden.
And as we drove away from the jail—
I looked back one last time.
The structure stood still.
Silent.
But now—
I knew.
It wasn’t empty.
It was holding something.
And somehow—
that something…
had just reached us.
❄️ To Be Continued…