The Tantric of Narayanganj Kali Bari

Devdas Poddar was a class fellow of mine from class three in Narayanganj High School. (Those educated
in Bangladesh know that many of our Schools in Bangladesh had both primary and secondary education
in one school.) We studied together until class eight when Devdas’s parents decided to migrate over to
India. Devdas had no particular talent to attract anyone, he we was rather mediocre in studies, and
walked with an awkward gait. His parents were rather well off; they had a business of some sort.

What attracted me to Devdas, and many other classmates, was the enormous collection of books and
magazines in his house. His older siblings—a brother and a sister—were avid readers of Bangla thrillers
and subscribers to that supremely delightful Shandesh magazine, which a kid would give his eye teeth
for. Every year they would receive a puja issue of the magazine and flaunt it before us. He would let the
lucky ones among us read it after a month or so, but that also after he had plowed down at our cost
several packets of chanachur and jilebies from the school vendor at tiffin period. The collection of books
ranged from truly hair raising detective novels by Nihar Ranjan, and Sharadindu Bandyopadhaya, to
absurd thrillers by Premendra Mitra (of Ghanada fame), and adventures and exploits of Dashyu Mohan.
Devdas held his family collection like a chest of gems, and would only lend the books to his favorites. I
must say I was one of those favorites.

Devdas lived in Nitaiganj, a relatively older part of Narayanganj, about twenty minutes walk from our
house in Tanbazar. His house, a very old building with walls surrounding the premises shaded by tall
trees, was adjacent to a temple dedicated to the Goddess Kali. The old temple believed to be about
three hundred years old or so, was eclipsed by a huge banyan tree. The inside of the temple was so
dark that devotees usually placed their offerings of flower and sweets at the foot the banyan tree
instead of going inside. Once a year the doors of the temple were opened when a pujari would go inside
and make devotions to the old image there. Legend has it that years ago the Tantrics (monks who
follow Kali) would make human sacrifices at the temple. Many people claimed that they had heard
screams of children emanating from the temple many times dead at night.

As Devdas never brought any novel or magazine to school to loan out, I normally visited him after school
to get a book. The price of getting a book on loan from him was usually a packet of chanachur, but
sometimes free when Devdas felt exceptionally generous. There were strict conditions attached to the
loan. I could not keep it for more than three days, and would have to return it on the fourth day even
late at night. Or else, I would never get another book from him in life! However, I always went to his
house in broad daylight, and made a detour to avoid the Kali Temple.

One Sunday afternoon I realized in horror that I had not returned two books that I had borrowed from
Devdas (he had made an exception that week by giving me two books)). The reason I had forgotten was
that we had relatives from Sylhet who were visiting us, and the whole of Saturday had gone by having
fun with their children. Now it was nearly dark, and it had been raining all day to add to the misery. But
I had not alternative but to go to Nitaiganj, and return the books even though I was a day late. Those
days we had not have the luxury of a phone that I could call Devdas and explain the delay to him. Only
way was to leg it to his place and beg his forgiveness.

I was in fifth class that time, and therefore, was allowed to go out myself, but only at day time. I knew
that I would be stopped from going out if I sought my parents’ permission. I plucked up some courage,
hid the two books under my shirt, and quietly slipped out in the rain. I did not take an umbrella for fear
of arousing any suspicion.

I undertook the venture on the assumption that I would be able to complete the round trip in less than
an hour, and that the rain would not increase in intensity. I ran part of the way to make it faster, but as I
made it to the main gate of Devdas house, it started to rain torrentially. It had become quite dark also. I
knocked on the wooden gate, but the noise made by the rain was so hard that no one seemed to hear. I
waited a few minutes, but I found myself completely drenched. I looked for some shelter, but the only
shelter in the vicinity was the dreaded temple. As I could not bear the heavy downpour any more, I
proceeded to the banyan tree; I thought the leaves would give me some protection at least. But I was
wrong. Rain water was dripping hugely from the leaves making it worse. Moreover, lightning had
started also. I ran to the temple.

I saved myself from the downpour as I stood under the temple patio, but I was still getting shock waves
from constant thunders and lightning. As I was pondering my next move, the big temple door suddenly
opened with a loud creaking noise. A faint light was coming from inside. About that moment a loud
thunder almost knocked me off my feet. I ran inside the temple without any further thought.

Under the faint light I could make out there was a huge ceiling from where hung a huge candelabra with
no candles. Right in front was a twenty-foot icon of Goddess Kali with her ferocious visage. Some bats
flew in side making a small commotion. As I was debating if I should stay any longer in that ghoulish
space, I suddenly felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked back in shock to see two glaring red eyes coming
out of what appeared to me to be a human skull. I tried to scream, but could not. Instead I ran, but
unfortunately the opposite way. I immediately stumbled against a stone and fell down into a cavity.
Even in this half darkness and half light I could see remains of human bones in the cavity and fetid smell
enveloping the whole place. That is all I could remember before I lost my consciousness.

I do not how long I was in that state, but when I came to, I saw again those red eyes staring down at me.
Only this time the eyes I noticed belonged to a living human head that was completely shaven, with
forehead smeared with vermilion. He was holding my head in one hand, and spraying water on my face
from a pitcher. He asked me in a gruff voice if I could stand up, which I could. He then quietly led me
out of the temple. The rains had stopped by then. As we stepped out the strange man squeezed my
shoulder hard, and said sternly “run now, and never tell anyone what you saw here.” I ran for my life.

I never told this story to anyone. For my parents I had a cock and bull story of how I got wet. For
Devdas I had another fib of having relatives near death that I had to attend to. But I did get some
information much later from an old businessman of Nitaiganj about happenings in Kali Temple. It is
believed that a tantric from the old days made this temple his own, unseen to all. It is also believed that
the Tantric still made human sacrifices, particularly small children, from time to time. He was never
seen, never found. But people often heard screams of children coming from the temple. No one ever
looked into it. I was one lucky boy that day.

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