In a small village near the hills of Tripura, there was an old abandoned house at the end of a narrow road. People said no one had lived there for years. But at night, a faint light could be seen from the upstairs window.
The villagers whispered about a woman in a white saree.
Long ago, a young bride named Meera came to that house after her marriage. She was kind, soft-spoken, and loved music. But her husband left for work in a faraway city and never returned. Some said he died. Some said he forgot her.
Every evening, Meera waited by the window, lighting a small oil lamp. Days became months. Months became years. Her hope slowly turned into sorrow. One stormy night, lightning struck near the house. The next morning, Meera was gone.
After that night, strange things began to happen.
Travelers passing by heard soft singing when the wind blew. Sometimes, if someone walked alone near the house after midnight, they would see a woman standing by the window, her long hair covering her face.
One night, a brave school teacher decided to prove the rumors wrong. He entered the house with a lantern. The rooms were dusty and silent. But upstairs, he saw a lamp glowing.
As he moved closer, he heard a gentle voice:
"Have you seen my husband?"
The teacher froze.
A cold breeze touched his face. Slowly, he turned around.
Behind him stood a pale woman in a white saree. Her feet were not touching the floor.
Her eyes were filled with tears, not anger.
The teacher ran out of the house and never returned.
From that day, villagers believed she was not evil. She was just waiting… still waiting.
And even today, on quiet nights, if you look carefully at the old house, you might see a small lamp burning in the window — and a lonely woman watching the road.