The Whispering Chars of the Sundarbans
The year is 2026. The monsoon has just retreated, leaving behind a thick, cloying humidity that clings to the mangrove-laced air of the Sundarbans. For generations, the whispers of this vast, untamed delta have spoken of spirits and shadows, but this year, the whispers have turned to screams. Inspector Rahman, a man whose face seemed carved from the very mud of the delta, stared at the tattered fishing boat bobbing listlessly near the Char Kora. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood, a stark contrast to the usual briny scent of the Bay of Bengal. A week…
