The Adventure at Chandubi Lake
Siddharth Roy
Civil Engineer, Writer and Columnist
The summer sun had just begun to mellow when Bishal, Srishti, and Jatin decided that their vacation needed a touch of adventure. Life in Guwahati was vibrant, but it was often noisy and crowded. The three friends longed for a break from the rush of the city and wanted to spend a few days in the lap of nature. After some discussion, they settled on Chandubi Lake, a serene natural lagoon located in the Kamrup district of Assam.
The lake had always been spoken of in local folklore — not only for its beauty but also for the mystery surrounding its formation after the great 1897 earthquake. The stories of submerged villages, of legends whispered by elders, intrigued them. And so, backpacks packed with essentials, they set off early one morning from Guwahati.
The journey itself was a delight. As the car sped past green rice fields, bamboo groves, and quaint villages with red-roofed houses, they felt the city fading away and nature embracing them. Jatin, the most energetic of the three, couldn’t stop clicking pictures. Srishti, with her keen interest in history, kept narrating bits she had read about Chandubi. Bishal, calm and thoughtful, listened quietly, occasionally joining in with his jokes and observations.
When they finally reached Chandubi, it was like stepping into another world. The lake stretched wide, its surface shimmering in the golden sunlight. On one side, the emerald forest leaned protectively toward the water, and on the other, small boats bobbed gently by the shore. The air was fresh and cool, filled with birdsong.
They met a few locals who told them about the lake’s history. One elderly man explained how the 1897 earthquake caused parts of the forest and villages to subside, creating Chandubi Lake. The villagers believed that spirits of the submerged lands still roamed the waters. While Srishti listened intently, Bishal and Jatin exchanged amused glances — they were not ones to get spooked easily.
Eager to experience the lake more closely, they hired a small wooden boat. The oarsman guided them across, telling stories of fishing, festivals, and how the lake came alive during the winter with migratory birds.
But as luck would have it, their adventure was about to take an unexpected turn. The oarsman, distracted by their chatter, mistakenly rowed them too far. When they finally realized, they found themselves on the other side of the lake, far away from the village landing.
Here, the landscape was wilder. Tall trees leaned over the water, their shadows darkening the banks. The forest looked thick, dense, and untouched. Instead of panic, the three felt a rush of excitement.
“Why don’t we explore a little before heading back?” Jatin suggested, his eyes shining.
Bishal shrugged. “We have daylight. Let’s do it.”
Srishti hesitated but eventually gave in. “Alright, but not too deep. We don’t know what’s inside.”
And with that, they stepped into the jungle, the ground soft with fallen leaves, the air humming with insects and the occasional distant call of a bird.
They had been walking for only fifteen minutes when they noticed something unusual — a tent tucked between two large trees. Smoke rose from a small fire pit nearby, and utensils were scattered on a log.
“Who would live here, in the middle of nowhere?” whispered Srishti.
The three exchanged puzzled looks. Curiosity got the better of them, and they crept closer. The tent’s flap moved, and a man stepped out.
The sight made them freeze.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, and had a thick, dreadful moustache that curled slightly at the ends. His eyes were sharp and cold. The face was unmistakable.
“It’s him…” Bishal muttered. “Rajat Daku.”
The three friends remembered the face from television. News channels had broadcasted his story — a notorious robber from Uttar Pradesh, accused of killing twenty people before fleeing. Reports said he had moved eastward, and in Assam, he had already murdered nine more innocents. The Assam Police had been desperately searching for him.
Srishti’s heart pounded. “What is he doing here?” she whispered.
“Probably hiding,” said Jatin. “But we can’t let this chance slip. If we alert the police, they could finally catch him.”
Bishal nodded. “Yes, but we must be careful. If he sees us, we’re finished.”
They quietly retreated a few steps into the cover of bushes and whispered hurriedly. They couldn’t go back across the lake fast enough without being spotted. Mobile signals were weak, but Bishal managed to get one bar of reception.
“I’ll try to call the Kamrup police station,” he said.
The call connected after multiple attempts. Speaking in hushed tones, Bishal explained what they had found. The officer on the other end was skeptical at first, but the urgency in Bishal’s voice convinced him. The officer told them to stay hidden, keep an eye on Rajat Daku, and wait for the police team that was being dispatched immediately.
Now came the hardest part i.e. keeping the criminal occupied until help arrived.
As fate would have it, Rajat Daku began walking toward the lake with a bag slung over his shoulder. The three realized he might be planning to escape.
Jatin whispered, “We need to distract him, buy some time.”
Thinking quickly, they picked up stones and threw them into the jungle in the opposite direction. The loud rustle made Rajat turn sharply, hand on his knife. He stalked off to investigate the noise.
Meanwhile, Srishti ran quietly toward the tent and noticed bundles of money, stolen ornaments, and even some weapons inside. She took quick photos with her phone — evidence that would help the police.
But Rajat returned sooner than expected. His eyes narrowed when he saw movement near his tent.
“Who’s there?” he bellowed, his voice thunderous.
The three froze, but then Jatin stepped out, feigning innocence. “We… we’re tourists. We got lost near the lake.”
Rajat’s suspicion deepened, but before he could react further, Bishal shouted from another side of the clearing, “Run, Srishti!”
The robber was momentarily distracted, chasing the sound, and the friends scattered in different directions through the trees.
Rajat Daku was fast, but his fury made him careless. He chased Bishal deeper into the forest, unaware that time was running out.
Within twenty minutes, the silence of the jungle was broken by sirens and the sound of boots on dry leaves. The Kamrup police had arrived in trucks, armed and ready. Guided by Srishti’s location pin and the noise of the chase, they quickly surrounded the area.
When Rajat realized he was trapped, he tried to fight back, brandishing his knife. But the police were swift and efficient. After a brief struggle, Rajat Daku — the dreaded outlaw who had escaped capture for years — was finally overpowered and handcuffed.
The police praised the three friends for their courage and quick thinking. The photos Srishti had taken were valuable proof of Rajat’s crimes and his hideout.
“Had it not been for you youngsters,” said the police inspector, “this man would have continued his terror. Assam owes you gratitude.”
The villagers near Chandubi soon heard of the capture. The friends were hailed as heroes who had helped rid the land of a dangerous criminal.
When Bishal, Srishti, and Jatin finally returned home, their families embraced them tightly, half angry and half proud. Their little summer trip had turned into an adventure that they would remember for life.
Srishti wrote about the history and mystery of Chandubi Lake in her diary, adding a new chapter about bravery. Jatin uploaded his photos — not just of the lake, but of the unfolding adventure — to keep as memories. Bishal, ever the thoughtful one, reminded them that luck and presence of mind had saved them that day.
Chandubi Lake still shimmered in the sunlight, calm and serene, as if nothing had happened. But for three friends, the place would forever remain more than a scenic holiday spot. It was where they faced danger, tested their courage, and played a role in ending the reign of a dreaded robber.
It was the summer they became heroes.