🌺 The Purple Trail of Joba Ful

In the quiet heart of a forgotten village tucked deep within the Sundarbans, there lived a little girl named Mithi. Her days were colored with the scent of joba ful (hibiscus) and the muddy rhythm of the river that curled like a snake past the bamboo huts.

Every morning, she would pluck a bunch of deep red hibiscus to offer at the tiny village temple, her bare feet brushing over wild grass that often hid gems of wildflowers—some of them hard purple, like the bruises of dusk on the sky.

But that year, something felt different. The villagers whispered of a shadow in the forest. A creature who had not been seen in decades. The Bagh Raja—the Royal Bengal Tiger—had returned.

One evening, Mithi followed a trail of hibiscus petals that weren’t hers. They glowed under the twilight, leading to the edge of the forest. There, nestled between the roots of an old Sundari tree, bloomed a single, large joba ful—its petals an impossible shade of purple.

She stepped closer, spellbound, and suddenly—a deep growl rippled through the air.

From behind the mangroves, two amber eyes emerged.

It was him.