Bicchu Mama and Little Prince: The Journey to Rangamati (Final Episode) -Md Tareq Hasan

(After Episode 1)

The night in Rangamati was thick with silence, broken only by the distant calls of nocturnal creatures and the soft lapping of Kaptai Lake against the shore. Little Prince lay in bed, unable to sleep. The strange encounter with the cloaked figure, the old man’s cryptic words, and Bicchu Mama’s revelation about the hidden map—it all were swirling in his mind like an unsolved riddle.
Bicchu Mama was awake too. He sat by the window, flipping through the old journal, his fingers tracing the faded ink as if searching for something unseen. The moonlight illuminated his face, making him look older, more burdened.
Finally, Little Prince broke the silence. “Mama… do you really think the map leads to something real? Or are we chasing a ghost?”
Bicchu Mama didn’t look up. “Some mysteries exist for a reason, beta. But my father believed in this. He wouldn’t have risked so much if it was just a story.” He closed the journal and turned to Little Prince. “Tomorrow, we go deeper into the forest. If we find nothing, we leave.”
A Path No One Dares to Walk
At dawn, they set out. The map indicated a route beyond the main tourist trails—deep into the untouched forests of Rangamati. They had rented a small boat to cross the lake, hiring a local boatman named Rafiq, who knew the waters well.
As they drifted across the misty lake, Rafiq studied them carefully. “People don’t go that way,” he finally said. “That part of the forest… it’s not normal.”
Little Prince’s heart thudded. “What do you mean?”
Rafiq hesitated. “Strange things happen there. People hear voices. Some go missing. The locals say the forest holds secrets best left undisturbed.”
Bicchu Mama exchanged a glance with Little Prince but remained silent. He was determined.
They reached the shore and stepped into the dense jungle, the canopy swallowing them whole. A thick stillness hung in the air, pressing against their senses like an unseen force. Bicchu Mama led the way, the old journal in one hand and the map in the other.
The deeper they went the stranger things became. The trees seemed taller, their branches curling unnaturally. The air was heavier, harder to breathe. Twice, Little Prince thought he heard whispers, but when he turned, there was nothing but the rustling leaves.
Then, they found it.
A stone structure, hidden beneath layers of vines and moss. It was ancient, its surface covered in Arabic inscriptions.
Bicchu Mama gasped. “SubhanAllah… this isn’t just any ruin. This is something sacred.”
Little Prince ran his fingers over the stone. “What does it say?”
Bicchu Mama translated slowly, his voice filled with awe:
“Within these walls lies a secret entrusted to time. Those who seek with a pure heart shall find. Those with greed shall perish.”
A shiver ran through them.
Suddenly, a rustling noise came from the trees. Someone was watching them.
The Guardians of the Secret
From the shadows emerged three men, their faces hidden beneath dark scarves. One of them stepped forward, holding a wooden staff. His eyes, sharp as a hawk’s, locked onto Bicchu Mama.
“You should not have come.”
Bicchu Mama stood his ground. “We mean no harm. We are only here to uncover the truth.”
The man’s gaze darkened. “Many before you have come with the same words. But truth is dangerous in the wrong hands.”
Little Prince clenched his fists. “My grandfather was looking for this place. Do you know what happened to him?”
The man was silent for a moment. Then, he gestured toward the stone structure. “If your heart is true, you will find your answer inside.”
Bicchu Mama and Little Prince exchanged a glance before stepping forward.
They pushed against the stone, and to their shock, it moved. A hidden entrance revealed itself—a dark passage leading underground.
Bicchu Mama hesitated, then whispered, “Bismillah,” before stepping inside.
Little Prince followed, his heart hammering.
The Chamber of Secrets
The tunnel led to an ancient underground chamber, its walls lined with more Arabic inscriptions. In the center stood a wooden chest, covered in dust and sealed with an old lock.
Bicchu Mama’s hands trembled as he brushed off the dust. He whispered a Quranic verse:
“And We have certainly made the Qur’an easy for remembrance, so is there any who will remember?” (Surah Al-Qamar 54:17)
With a deep breath, he opened the chest.
Inside was a bundle of letters and an old manuscript. The ink had faded, but the words were still legible.
As Bicchu Mama read, his face turned pale.
“This… this is my father’s handwriting.”
Little Prince’s breath caught. “Your father was here?”
Bicchu Mama nodded, his voice shaking. “He found the truth… but he never made it back.”
The letters spoke of a hidden treasure—not of gold, but of knowledge. The manuscript contained ancient Islamic teachings and historical records lost to time, preserved by a secretive group known as the Guardians of Rangamati.
Suddenly, a noise echoed from the tunnel. Someone was coming.
Betrayal in the Dark
Before they could react, a gunshot rang through the chamber.
A shadowy figure appeared at the entrance—Rafiq, the boatman.
He wasn’t just a boatman. He had followed them, waiting for the right moment.
“You don’t understand what you’ve found,” Rafiq sneered. “But I do. And I will take it.”
Bicchu Mama shielded the manuscript, his jaw clenched. “This knowledge belongs to the world, not to men like you.”
Rafiq raised his gun. “Then you die here.”
Before he could pull the trigger, one of the Guardians lunged from the shadows, knocking the weapon from his hand. A brief struggle ensued, but Rafiq was outnumbered.
The Guardians overpowered him, binding his hands.
One of them turned to Bicchu Mama. “The knowledge must be protected. Will you carry this responsibility?”
Bicchu Mama’s eyes shone with determination. “I will.”
The Journey Home
By sunrise, Bicchu Mama and Little Prince were on their way back, the manuscript safely in their possession.
As they crossed the lake, Little Prince asked, “What will we do now?”
Bicchu Mama smiled. “We share the truth. We preserve knowledge. But most importantly… we trust in Allah.”
Little Prince looked at the sky, the rising sun casting golden reflections on the water. He felt different—as if their journey had changed him.
Rangamati had given them more than they had expected. It had given them a legacy to protect.
And so, their adventure ended… but their mission had just begun.