The imposing palace, home of the Maharajahs of Natore for several generations, fell into decay after partition. The palace was placed under the archaeological department for preservation initially. Years later, the provincial governor of East Pakistan that period, Monayem Khan, turned it into a Government House for Northern Areas. In 1971 the place was again ravaged first by the Pakistan Army and then by the Indian forces that used the place for camps. In 1972 Bangabandhu ordered a restoration of the place and termed it Uttara Ganabhaban -the official residence of the President in the Northern Districts.
The first time I had the privilege of staying in the historic building was in 1970 when I was a civil service probationer in Rajshahi district of which Natore was a subdivision. The place was used by high officials as a kind of government rest house although technically it was called Government House. The Governor would use the place for his accommodation when touring Rajshahi division.
I was accompanying the Commissioner who wanted to be there before the impending visit of the Governor. This was my first ever visit to Natore and the historic palace.
It was July and I was getting the taste of a scorching summer of the Northern area. However, the eerie experience that I had in the palace that time was one that would haunt me for days and months to come. This is not what you expect in an abode renovated and refurbished for visiting dignitaries. More importantly not everyone who stayed in the stately house had that experience. It was one of a kind.
Our party arrived at Natore in the afternoon traveling through dusty roads of Pabna which the Commissioner visited before Natore. I was so tired that I even forgot to admire the enormous structure, the ornate gateway, and the sprawling green lawns of the palace. The rooms were enormous, and many were still getting painted, and the windows were repaired. I was given a room on the upper floor a few doors away from the Commissioner's suite. There were no air conditioners in the rooms, except a few that were reserved for dignitaries. The Halls downstairs including the dining room also lacked any air conditioning at that time.
Immediately after I reached my room, I opened all windows to let in the fresh air, although it was still extremely hot outside. However, the high ceiling and thick walls of the building helped to keep the temperature inside somewhat cooler than outside. I took a long shower in the adjacent bath quickly and joined the minister and others down in the dining room for an early dinner. I was glad to see there was a large refrigerator in the dining room that was recently installed.
After a rather sumptuous dinner in the evening, I took a stroll of the enormous Hall and adjoining corridors that still had a few statues left.
The original chandeliers had disappeared, and these were replaced by less expensive fixtures albeit attractive. There was a small stage in the Hall that the Maharajahs used for performances by singers and dancers who entertained the Maharajah's guests. I enquired of a bearded attendant of the rest house if he had any interesting stories to tell me about the old palace. He laughed and said he had heard many from his father, but these would only deprive me of my sleep. I took his remark as a joke. On a practical matter, however, I asked him if the floor above had any refrigerator. He answered that the only refrigerator on the premises was in the dining hall, but he would gladly keep a pitcher of cold water in my room. I thanked him as he took one pitcher to my room.
I came back to my room and lay in bed reading an Agatha Christie book that I had brought with me. The room felt sultry even though all windows were wide open. After reading for about an hour, I felt quite sleepy. I kept the windows open and went to sleep. I do not how long I had slept, but a loud thud of the windows woke me up all of a sudden. I rose to find that the window had closed mysteriously, and the water pitcher had dropped on the ground splashing water all around. I tried to switch on the bed lamp, but it would not work. Fortunately, there was a flashlight near the bed. I turned it on, but I did not see anyone in my room. I stood up and tried to open the window. It seemed to be stuck. I decided to go down to get some water with the flashlight in my hand.
There was no one below as I descended the stairs, the bearers had gone to their sleeping quarters, and the guests were all asleep in their respective rooms. The lights in the main hall were lit so that I did not have any difficulty in reaching the utility room where the refrigerator was located. I opened the refrigerator hoping there would be another pitcher of water there. As I looked for the pitcher, I felt an icy grip in my left shoulder. I looked back in shudder only to find no one. I thought I was still imagining things after the inexplicable incident of a closed window in my room earlier. I went back to the refrigerator, but this time I felt a tighter grip on my left arm. I shook my hand free and as I turned around, I saw an image of a human figure running quickly toward the door near the Galley.
I do not what possessed me, but on an impulse, I followed the image and came to a closed door. Without thinking I turned the door handle and saw a staircase leading to a floor below.
I was not aware that the building had a basement, but when I saw that the staircase was lighted, I went down the stairs. It was a large hall where I descended that was partially lit by the lights of the staircase. I used the flashlight to see what was inside the room. There were a few pieces of old furniture and some rugs on the floor. The ceiling was decorated with very old chandeliers that would be lit with candles in old times. My instinct told me not to explore the place anymore, and I retraced my steps to the stairs. As I started back, I distinctly heard a woman cry in anguish and looked back mortified by fear. The sound was coming from an adjacent room.
I was in two minds, whether to find out who was crying in that forsaken room or to rush up and get some help. Before I could reach a decision, the stair lights went out mysteriously. As I turned the flashlight on, I could hear the woman cry again. I turned to the wall and saw an opening that seemed to lead to another room. Again, on an impulse, I walked toward the opening. With the flashlight I discovered the opening to be a corridor to another room. There was a musty smell coming from the corridor. I was afraid to enter the corridor, but I was mesmerized by the sound from across the other side and kept going.
The place I reached had an extremely low ceiling. With the dim lights from my hand, I could see there were several wooden boxes on the floor. There were also some firearms and other weapons on the wall. But there was no one in that space. As I was debating in my mind if I should leave, I heard whispers all around as though there was a large gathering inside and people were talking in low voices. I heard also the faint sound of musical instruments, and metal beads of anklets coming from an adjoining room.
I looked hard to see anything with my flashlight but there was not a soul in that space. I turned around to leave, but before I could proceed a strong grip held my shoulder and I dropped my flashlight. It was completely dark, and I fell heavily on the concrete below as I was struck by a heavy blow.
I do not remember how long I lay on the floor, but when I came to my senses it was still dark all around. A foul stench of rotting substances hit my nose. I remember I had to crawl for several yards to reach the staircase. As I reached the stairs, I saw a man standing at the top with a flashlight in hand. He was the bearded bearer I had met on the day before. He was looking down on me with a frown. "How did you get in there," he asked before I could even pull myself up. I trudged myself up the stairs with great difficulty and collapsed on a chair reaching the main hall. The bearded bearer was still looking at me with angry eyes waiting for an answer. I asked for a glass of water first, which he gave me.
After finishing the glass of water in one gulp, I narrated to him my misadventure of the night. The old bearer shook his head and said I should not have done this, adding that I was lucky to be alive. He asked me to get back to my room, promising that he would tell me all about the floor below some other day, but not in the same palace.
The next day we had to leave Natore for Rajshahi, and I wondered if I would ever learn about the mystery of Dighapatia palace. But true to his word, the bearded bearer came to Rajshahi Circuit House a day later and found me out. It was a story too bizarre to be true.
The Maharajahs of Dighhapatia were as much fun-loving as their peers in other parts of Bengal indulging in game sports and entertainment of all kinds. The most common of this entertainment was mujras or singing and dancing sessions by professional dancers from Lucknow and Calcutta. Every puja season the Maharajahs would get a noted professional for a month for private entertainment at the palace. The performance would be in the main Naach Ghar (Dance Hall) on the first floor. The accommodations of the singer/dancer and her musical assistants were made in a chamber in the basement.
The dance and singing routine continued in the Dighapatia house for several generations until the time of the grandfather of the last Maharajah who left his estate for India after the partition of India. It was a sad ending to a great tradition, the bearer said. The grandfather of the last Maharajah had been smitten by a young Lucknow dancing girl. So much so, that he had made her a permanent member of his Palace instead of employing her seasonally. He spent lavishly on the girl and was very jealous of anyone among his friends and relatives who tried to befriend her.
Unfortunately for the Maharajah, there was a young cousin from Cooch Behar who had developed an eye for the girl after one Mujra where he was invited. From then on, the cousin would visit Dighapatia on one pretext or another and liked to watch the girl dance and hear her sing. The old Maharajah tolerated this for some time; but little did he realize that his young mistress was also falling for the younger man. He found this out accidentally.
The Maharajah had gone to Darjeeling for vacation with his family, but he had to return early to attend an urgent business in the estate. He had returned unannounced leaving his family in Darjeeling. To his great surprise, he found a Phaeton waiting at the Palace gate that belonged to the Cooch Behar cousin. On a query from the guards, he found that the cousin had arrived there the day before.
The Maharajah rushed to the palace. When he did not find the cousin in the main hall, he became suspicious and went down to his mistress's chamber, only to find the mistress in an amorous embrace with the cousin. The couple was equally taken by surprise. The Maharajah said nothing and left the room for the main hall.
The young cousin followed the Maharajah upstairs. The Maharajah simply asked that the cousin to leave the palace immediately, which he did. The mistress did not go up. The Maharajah did not go down either. In fact, he would not go to her chamber in the evening also. Later that night the young mistress would receive two unknown visitors who would muffle her to death with a pillow. Her two assistants, witnesses to this horrible incident, would be simply knifed to death and left there. The bodies would never be found as these were buried inside the chamber.
A few days later the Cooch Behar cousin returned to seek an interview with the Maharajah and ask for the dancer's welfare. Reportedly the cousin was asked to visit the dancer in her chamber. When he went there, he was locked inside and kept there until his horrific death from starvation.
That was the secret of Dighapatia, the bearer told me. He also said the Public Works Department had already sealed the basement, but somehow one door was still not completely sealed. That is how I found the stairs. The door was sealed permanently the day after we left, the bearer told me. You will no longer know that there ever was a secret chamber below. Not to speak of the ghastly deaths there, and the spooks that inhabit the place.
