पूर्णिमाको खेत (The Field of the Full Moon)
In a quiet village hidden among the hills of western Nepal lived a boy named Ramesh. The village was small, surrounded by terraced fields, old banyan trees, and thick forests where sunlight barely reached the ground.
Like many Hindu villages, traditions were deeply respected there. One such ritual was followed when someone’s parent died. The son of the deceased had to stay in isolation for several days. He could not touch anyone, eat with family, or sleep inside the main house. Some villagers would stay nearby at night to ensure he was safe from evil spirits, which villagers believed often followed death.
One winter evening, Ramesh heard that his childhood friend Hari’s mother had passed away. Feeling sad and responsible as a friend, he decided to visit Hari to give him support.
When Ramesh reached Hari’s house, the environment felt heavy and silent. A faint smell of burning incense and ghee lamps filled the air. Hari sat quietly outside on a straw mat, wearing simple white clothes, his eyes swollen from crying. A few elders were sitting near him, maintaining distance as part of the ritual.
To lighten Hari’s mood, some village boys gathered and started playing cards near the courtyard. Slowly, the tense atmosphere softened. They laughed, shared memories, and played cards for hours. Time passed unnoticed.
By the time Ramesh decided to return home, it was already late night.
As he stepped outside, he noticed the sky glowing brightly. It was Purnima — the full moon night. The moonlight was so bright that shadows of trees stretched long across the ground like dark fingers.
Ramesh’s house was on the other side of a large open field, which villagers usually avoided crossing at night. But since he had walked that path many times during the day, he gathered courage and started walking.
The field was unusually silent. Even the crickets seemed quiet.
After walking for a few minutes, Ramesh noticed a man walking ahead of him.
Relieved to see someone else on the lonely path, he called out softly,
“Dai… wait…!”
The man did not respond.
Ramesh increased his walking speed, thinking maybe the man hadn’t heard him. But strangely, no matter how fast he walked, the distance between them remained exactly the same.
The moonlight clearly showed the man’s figure. He wore a traditional daura-suruwal and a shawl covering his head. But something felt odd.
The man made no sound while walking. No footsteps. No rustling of clothes.
Ramesh felt a chill crawl down his spine.
He tried calling louder this time,
“Dai! Which house are you going to?”
Still no response.
The field suddenly felt colder, and a strange wind began blowing across the crops. The plants swayed, creating whispering sounds like someone murmuring from beneath the soil.
Ramesh’s heartbeat started racing. He tried to convince himself that he was just imagining things.
Finally, as they reached near the end of the field, the road split into two directions.
One road led toward the village houses.
The other road led toward an old dense jungle, a place villagers believed was haunted. Many elders had warned children never to go there after sunset.
Ramesh slowed his steps, expecting the man to walk toward the village.
But instead, without turning back… without stopping… the man slowly turned toward the jungle path.
As the man stepped closer to the jungle, something terrifying happened.
The moonlight fell directly on him, and Ramesh noticed…
The man had no shadow.
Ramesh froze.
His throat dried instantly. His legs felt numb. The air around him grew heavy as if something invisible was watching him.
Then the man suddenly stopped at the edge of the jungle.
For a brief moment, he slightly turned his head sideways… just enough for Ramesh to see his face.
It was pale… unnaturally pale… with hollow dark eyes and a faint, lifeless smile.
Ramesh felt his entire body go cold. His ears rang loudly. He remembered villagers saying that spirits often roam freely during full moon nights, especially near places touched by death rituals.
Suddenly, the man slowly stepped inside the jungle… and vanished between the trees.
Ramesh snapped out of his fear.
He turned around and ran toward his home as fast as he could. His chest felt like it would explode. The cold air burned his lungs. He didn’t dare look back, even once.
When he reached home, he slammed the wooden door shut and collapsed on the floor, sweating and trembling. His mother woke up and asked what happened, but Ramesh couldn’t speak. His heart was pounding violently.
That entire night, he couldn’t sleep.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that pale face staring at him from the jungle darkness.
The next morning, villagers told him something that froze his blood again.
Many years ago, a man from the same village had died mysteriously in that jungle while returning home on a full moon night after attending a funeral ritual.
Since then, villagers believed his spirit still wandered the field, silently guiding lonely travelers… toward the jungle.
From that night onward, Ramesh made a promise to himself.
He never traveled through the field after sunset again.
And even today, elders in that village warn children…
“On full moon nights… if you see someone walking ahead of you in the field… never try to follow.”
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