While her friends prepared the story, Scootaloo stole one last glance out the window. She subtly let loose a breath she’d been holding since she’d remembered the creature she saw lurking in the tree earlier, now nowhere to be seen. The filly couldn’t help but wonder if that should be taken as a good sign or a bad one.
“Stop being dumb, it’s not him!”
The story opened on an illustration of a family of eleven. It consisted of two adult men, two younger boys and seven grown up women, including one elderly lady. When Scootaloo looked at the family, she took note of how some of the outfits the women were wearing reminded her of photos she’s seen of friends her parents have made in Shire Lanka. She tuned in to the narrator’s words just in time to find out that this family had died under mysterious circumstances, which shook the town of Burari to its core. Hearing this did the opposite of what the fillies hoped, they’d become even more wide awake than when they’d come down here.
“You mean, every one of them was killed?”, Sweetie asked with disbelief radiating from her voice.
The same could be said for Apple Bloom’s tone, “Why-How in tarnation did somepony kill a family that big and somehow not get caught?”
The rattled trio of fillies wouldn’t have much longer to contemplate this. The narrator wrapped up his introduction by clarifying that this was a very recent and still ongoing case in which they would try to make sense of the events leading up to the family’s demise. Waiting for the opening they’d grown used to, the girls were surprised to see that opening had been entirely skipped over. Instead, all they got was the title card accompanied by suspenseful music, a subtle heartbeat that gradually grew louder and even the sound of an eerie breeze that they initially thought was coming from outside. Having no clue what to make of the heavy atmosphere this story was creating, they idly sat in silence and brushed off the weight of the tale.
“Nothing we probably can’t handle at this point.”, Sweetie thought to herself.
The story opened on an (unusually) cloudy day where mustachioed man stood in front of an open gate at the edge of “Jagatpur Park”, checking his wristwatch. The man, named Gurcharan Singh, had been waiting for his friend, Lalit Chundawat, so that they can begin their routine of strolling through the park together. He’d stood there for over half an hour while the morning slowly passed by until finally a rain shower came, though sooner than what had been broadcasted. Yet, Singh’s friend was still nowhere to be seen by 6:57 a.m.
Scootaloo felt her jaw drop ever so slightly, “6:57 is considered late? And they said this guy was waiting for how long?”
“At least half an hour.”, Sweetie Belle answered. “And he probably woke up half an hour before that. I don’t understand why old people choose to be such early birds.”
Apple Bloom took a bite out of another cookie as she grew self-conscious of how life on the farm has probably made her the only kid in town who gets out of the bed as early as the adults in this story.
Gurcharan waited a little longer until 7:05 a.m. in which he took the increasingly heavy rainfall as his cue to head home. He figured that he could pay his friend a visit to his place later that evening, maybe confirm whether he was feeling under the weather or was too busy that morning to take their usual walk. All these thoughts were coursing through his mind while he strolled down the streets of Burari. Then he paused when he noticed Lalit’s grocery store across the street, still closed even though he’d always seen it opened promptly at six every morning since he’d known Lalit. Seeing this as a sign that something might be wrong, Gurcharan immediately began heading towards the Chundawat home. Both he and the Crusaders tried their best to stifle the pits forming in their stomachs.
While the girls steeled their nerves, Gurcharan knocked on his friend’s front door twice only to be met with no response. He then tried the door handle, and to his surprise it actually opened. The fillies’ spirits rapidly started dropping as the narrator went into detail about how the Chundawat household was usually very lively and echoing with the sounds of conversation, laughter and all sorts of activity. Even though they all knew he was going to say the house was now eerily quiet, that didn’t lessen the dread that detail brought once the narrator shared it. None of them felt a shiver go through their spines like Gurcharan did, but Apple Bloom sure let out a very audible gulp.
Scootaloo actually started to get frustrated with how much the tension was getting to her; it didn’t help when she had to listen to the narrator tell them how even a middle-aged adult like Gurcharan whose faced loss, hardships and things a person can never un-see, wasn’t prepared for what he’d see on the other side of that doorway.
“We get it! You don’t think we can handle this? Bring it on!”
Almost as if answering her dare, the orb then projected the most sickening thing they’ve ever witnessed: multiple people, cloths wrapped around their faces, dangling from the ceiling by ropes tied tightly around their necks which bent in unnatural ways.
The collective gasp the entire group let loose was so audible that under normal circumstances they’d be worried that they’d almost awoken Rarity. But they were too wrapped up in what in front of them that they didn’t even notice how loud they were. Scootaloo covered her muzzle which hung wide open, as if her words had brought this upon them even though those words had never actually left her lips. Sweetie Belle immediately covered her eyes, positive that if she looked for any longer she’d start feeling sick to her stomach. Apple Bloom herself was starting to feel a little queasy and as much as she wanted to do exactly what her friend was doing, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the picture.
Instead, the farm filly wordlessly sat frozen in place, overwhelmed by the feelings coming over her. She’s been through life-threatening situations before, nearly got eaten by a chimera. And she knew that she wasn’t experiencing a paralysis that occurs whenever one’s brain is stuck between fight or flight. This was the crushing feeling of being a helpless bystander, seeing clearly that something’s gone wrong but you’re unable to do anything about it; you have no agency or ability to affect the world around you, all that you can do is watch. Apple Bloom became all too familiar with that feeling after experiencing it a couple times herself.
She shuddered as memories of being under Sombra’s control came back to her.
Apple Bloom stole glances at both of her friends. Scootaloo had put her hoof down and kept her mouth firmly closed, her eyes being the only remaining indicator of her lingering shock. Sweetie slowly uncovered her eyes, then let them fall back to her sides upon seeing that the story had shifted to a new illustration; behind the police tape in the foreground, officers now stood outside the Chundawat home as they kept back curious onlookers who had flooded the streets to get a look at the crime scene. Apple Bloom started wondering if they should turn off the crystal ball and cut their losses by this point. However, it didn’t look like either of her friends were going to speak up. Were they waiting for her to make the call?
Her train of thought was interrupted when she heard the narrator share more details about the case. It was initially suspected that this was the end result of a robbery gone wrong, but this was soon dismissed upon discovering that no valuables had been looted from the premises or even from the victim’s bodies.
“W-why were they killed then?”, Scootaloo stammered out.
Though they had some reasons not to rule out foul play, the police were beginning to think they were dealing with a mass suicide.
Every filly felt their jaws drop for the second time that evening. Before the other two gathered their wits though, they heard their friend speak up.
“Mule shit!”, Apple Bloom spitefully hissed out without even thinking; she wasn’t sure why.
It was then that the video suddenly paused. The farmer filly noticed the pen levitating in her friend’s magical grasp.
“Okay. I don’t think I can take anymore of this.”, said Sweetie Belle.
“Me neither.”, Scootaloo agreed. “I signed up for a story that could make me go to bed, not families killing themselves.”
Apple Bloom held back the urge to correct her friend and remind her that it was actually a mass murder.
“You know what? Why don’t we just put the story about that miracle spirit lady back on again?”, Sweetie suggested. “That’s what we probably should’ve done anyway.”
“Wait!”
Both sets of eyes turned to Apple Bloom in response to what she blurted out.
“Um…”, she paused for a second as she considered her next words. “Look, y’all can go upstairs ta bed if ya want, but please let me finish this story.”
“Woah, woah, woah.”, Scootaloo interjected whilst waving her hooves in front of her. “Why do you of all ponies wanna keep watching nightmare fuel like this?”
“Listen, seein’ this has created a buncha questions buzzin’ around in my head that’ll probably keep me up at night anyway.”, she explained. “This story is gonna be in the back of my head naggin’ away at my thoughts unless ah get some sorta closure. So, please let me finish this for my sake.”
Taking in their friend’s pleas, it took one exchange of looks between them for Sweetie and Scootaloo to realize what they were going to do.
Sweetie Belle sighed, “Look Apple Bloom, we understand that this really means a lot to you right now. But please…”
Apple Bloom felt Scootaloo’s wing wrap around her shoulder as she heard Sweetie’s next words, “Don’t force yourself to watch this alone.”
The farmer filly could not and would not contain the smile that was forming across her muzzle and proceeded to return her friends’ affection with a group.
With the understanding that they were all in too deep by this point, the Crusaders allowed themselves to calm down and continued their latest “bedtime story”.
They listened closely as it began listing off supposed signs of a third party being involved in their deaths. Each victim had their hands tied behind their backs. Their heads were wrapped in a material that was cut from the same cloth. They were also blindfolded, their mouths were taped shut and their ears were plugged with cotton wool.
The next detail about the family’s grandmother being found strangled in the other room disturbed everypony watching, but Apple Bloom also couldn’t help but feel her anger towards the unidentified murderer grow with every description.
“This sicko is lucky he never met Granny Smith when she was still around. She’d have made ‘em real sorry for ever tryin’ anythin’ with her.”
Another point was how the kitchen was found with ingredients and recipes laid out as well as places having been set for breakfast. Something entirely pointless if the family really was planning suicide that day.
Apple Bloom nodded, “Applejack, Big Mac and Granny Smith never bother settin’ up the table if they know we ain’t got time ta eat.”
Her convictions would only feel more validated when the Chundawat’s friends and relatives have insisted that the family was very happy and well-off and wasn’t experiencing any troubles that would prompt a suicide.
“Hmm. I guess, but I also get the feeling that there’s more to it than they’re letting on.”
Apple Bloom snapped her head to Sweetie Belle’s direction, “What do ya mean?”
The unicorn shrugged, “Well, we’re still pretty early in the story. So, there’s got to be something that they haven’t told us about yet. Maybe even something that their friends and family don’t know.”
Her expression grew more indignant as she responded.
“So yer sayin’ that if somethin’ like this happened to me and my family, and police said it was all suicide, y’all would believe ‘em?”
“But-wait a minute that’s not what I said-“
“Of course ya didn’t say that, ya never would.”, Apple Bloom interrupted. “And ah wouldn’t either, cause y’all are my friend. Friends and family know ya better than anypony else. And ah know y’all would do right by me just like ah would for you!”
When her friend took a bit too long to reply, the farm filly prodded one last time.
“Right?”
“Well… yeah.”
“Thought so!”, she concluded, crossing her forelegs in front of her chest as she turned her attention back to the orb.
Scootaloo looked on in surprise at how differently Apple Bloom was acting in comparison to when they watched the Cindy James episode together.
“Huh. The horseshoe really is on the other hoof this time.”
Despite how compelling these points sounded, it had to be noted that police uncovered security footage taken near the residence which contradicted all these arguments. Apple Bloom began to feel her conviction deflate in response to this news. It only got worse when the video’s contents were described as showing the family taking ropes and stools into their house on the night before their death.
“Uh…”
Seeing her friend’s morale get crushed ensured that Sweetie wouldn’t be careless enough to utter the first thing that came to her mind, “Hate to say I told you so.”
“So, I wonder why they needed the stools?”, Sweetie Belle she ventured as cautiously as she could. “I mean, they probably should have already had chairs in the house. You know?”
Thankfully, Scootaloo picked up the conversation before Sweetie could fumble it even further.
“Who knows? Maybe their chairs were all just old or broken?”, she suggested “Everypony has to go furniture shopping once in a while, right?”
“Ah guess that’s true.”, Apple Bloom softly agreed as her thoughts started picking their pace back up again. “Actually, who’s ta say the killer ain’t forced ‘em ta get all that stuff? Ya know, take ‘em hostage and have them do stuff ta make the killin’ easier?”
As always though, the orb had no regard for the fillies’ input as it continued citing more pieces of evidence. Further investigation uncovered eleven diaries which had been kept by the family members over the course of many years. These journals proved to be invaluable sources for understanding what happened that fateful day. Especially the one that belonged to Lalit Chundawat.
Apple Bloom’s ears perked up at that name.
“Hang on, ain’t he the friend that guy was tryin’ ta meet up with in the beginning?”
“Yeah, he was the one who owned that grocery store too, I think.”, Scootaloo answered. “Wait, does that also make him the one who’s in charge of the family?”
The notes contained within these journals would reveal a side to this seemingly normal family that was completely unknown to the rest of the community. Something that perhaps lead them into a disturbing descent into madness. Or at least, that’s what the diaries possibly indicate.
Sweetie Belle stifled the urge to let out a nervous gulp and asked, “What sort of dark secret do you think they’re talking about?”
She was only met with a shush from Apple Bloom as the narrator decided to start breaking down the Chundawat family and their history. The next illustration on screen depicted the three silhouettes of the Chundawat family; a mother and a father huddled close to their son as they stood in front of their future home back in 1989 after moving away from Rajasthan. After selling the large plot of land and grazing cattle he owned, the head of the family, Bhopal Singh, invested money in their new home in the small town of Burari which they now stood in front of. He and his wife, Narayani, had three sons named Bhuvnesh, Dinesh and Lalit, as well as two daughters named Pratibha and Sujata.
“How come I only see one kid with them in this picture?”, Scootaloo questioned.
Four of the children, having already grown up and with careers to focus on, stayed behind in Rajasthan while Bhopal used the rest of his capital to set up a business in selling plywood. This left Lalit as the only child to join his parents to their new home in Burari.
Apple Bloom felt sorry for Lalit; she knew moving away from her own siblings would be a massive adjustment for her, especially now. She also remembered granny telling her how badly homesickness hit her for the longest time when she founded Sweet Apple Acres. Even with the regular contact she had through letters, it was supposedly very difficult for her to adjust entirely for a while.
While Scootaloo began to tune out and look out the window, Sweetie couldn’t help but ask, “I know we all said we’re going to move out of Ponyville and build CMC headquarters elsewhere when we grow up, but… do you think we can really make it out there without our family’s help?”
Apple Bloom put a reassuring hoof on her friend’s shoulder, “So long as we stay Crusaders through thick ‘n thin, we’ll never have ta worry about nopony bein’ there ta help ya. Not with usaround.”
The two exchanged heartfelt smiles. Even though it’d be tough, having each other around would get them through anything. Just like how having Bloom’s Pa around helped granny keep it together when she was just starting out. And having her grandkids around helped the old mare keep it together when both Pa and Ma were no longer with her.
Thankfully, Lalit wouldn’t have to cope with his own separation for the rest of his life. By 1993, both Bhuvnesh and Pratibha had also moved into the family home in Burari. So, not only did Lalit have his some of his siblings back in his life, both of them also brought their own families along with them. Over the next ten years, there would be as many as twelve people living under the same roof. Not only did the Chundawat family grow in numbers, but in financial and social standing as well.
Scootaloo took her attention away from the window for a moment to think about how crowded that house sounded. To Apple Bloom however, this family was sounding more and more relatable with each second. Though, the positive comparisons halted momentarily with the description of Bhopal’s style of leadership as the family patriarch; despite being a good man, he was said to have a dictatorial level of control over his family. His word was law and he demanded absolute adhere ends to his wishes and instructions.
“Sounds like a real piece of work.”, Scootaloo commented.
“Applejack said she also saw Granny Smith as a tyrant when she was my age.”, Apple Bloom realized. “But we all know Granny was happy ta let Applejack take charge more once started growin’ up at least.”
With how much respect they regarded Bhopal, the family never questioned his authority. He used to say that the family’s success depended on him and in many ways that was true. This would be proven when Bhopal passed away unexpectedly and the family struggled to pick up the pieces in his absence. The family’s fortunes began to decline soon after this major upheaval.
Apple Bloom shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Why was this story constantly hitting so close to home for her? Sure, it hasn’t gotten too bad after Granny Smith died, financially speaking. Still, that didn’t keep her from noticing how stressed and on edge all the grown ups in her home were, constantly worrying what else the future had in store.
Though everyone was feeling the loss, it was arguably Lalit, Bhopal’s youngest, who was hit the hardest by the tragedy. On top of his father’s death, Lalit also had other personal issues, which had a negative impact on his quality of life.
“Is this the moment we find out he’s crazy?”, Scootaloo wondered aloud, drawing a disapproving glare from Apple Bloom.
Years before Bhopal’s death, Lalit once found himself working alone in his father’s plywood shop; it was on this day he found himself on the receiving end of a robbery. The thieves didn’t stop at just stealing all the money in the “till”. They also buried Lalit under a pile of plywood panels and then set fire to him. The cruelty being described left all three fillies taken aback. None of them even bothered asking themselves what in Equestria a “till” was.
“Is this family going to catch a break!?”, Sweetie Belle asked out of shock and pity.
Apple Bloom couldn’t help but shake her head in disbelief, “What did Lalit ever do ta deserve this?”
In a meek attempt to offer an answer, Scootaloo shrugged her shoulders and weakly replied, “I guess, ‘no witnesses’, is how these robbers like to do things?”
Although he managed to escape relatively unscathed, Lalit became extremely withdrawn; more shocking was he even lost his voice as a result, never speaking a single word for many years afterward.
Once she picked her jaw off the floor, Scootaloo spoke up again.
“Hold on, that can actually happen?”
“A-ah dunno.”, the farm filly stuttered out. “Ah thought stuff like that only happened when magic spells or potions go wrong.”
“I think I heard somewhere that this can happen when someone goes through something really traumatic.”, Sweetie Belle offered as explanation.
After pondering what her friend just said, Scootaloo asked in a dead serious tone, “So, you’re telling me that if I scare someone too much, they could scream so loud they blow out their voice box forever?”
Initially unsure how to take that question, Sweetie then answered back, “Um, no. I’m pretty sure that’s not what they mean.”
However, Lalit’s behavior would shortly change after his father’s death. This came about while the family was taking part in a traditional ten-day long prayer known as Garuda Purana. Lalit was said to have suddenly burst out chanting along with everyone else, his first time speaking in over three years. This was great consolation to all the fillies watching, finally something to be happy about in this story.
Though, Scootaloo also couldn’t help but privately think to herself, “This is nice and all. But did they just say this ceremony lasts ten days? They have to allow breaks, right?”
After getting over their shock, the other family members were immediately overjoyed by what they were seeing and hearing, then began chanting in reply, “Father has returned!”
“Ah bet his poppa also woulda loved ta hear him singin’ again.”, Apple Bloom softly stated through a bittersweet smile.
Although the Crusaders were pleased to learn Lalit snapped out of whatever had kept him silent for all this time, the Chundawats believed there was something even more behind this. In their eyes, the spirit of Bhopal had come forth and was channeling himself through Lalit.
Sweetie Belle cringed slightly, “Wait, so they think their dad is possessing his son’s body? That doesn’t sound like something a dad would do.”
“Actually, this reminds me of something mom and dad told me about ponies in Shire Lanka once.”
All eyes fell on Scootaloo as she elaborated, “I think they said that ponies there don’t believe anyone truly stays dead, if that makes any sense? They just get ‘reborn’ into another body after their old one dies, or something like that.”
“So, ya think these humans in Delhi or whatever also believe that?”
For an answer, Apple Bloom only got a shrug followed by, “I dunno.”
It was after this moment during the Garuda Purana that people in the community would notice changes to the family’s dynamic, and even their mental and psychological state. For example, Lalit began telling customers in his shop that his father had appeared to him in a dream and asked him to perform an act of worship called a puja. As the narrator elaborated on what a puja was and briefly explained the many ways it could be performed, the trio of fillies stared at the accompanying illustration of Lalit. He peacefully sat crisscrossed with his eyes closed underneath a tree, looking as though he was meditating. They guessed that this was supposed to be Lalit performing one of these puja’s in honor of his father, but they honestly didn’t know. At the very least, the narrator did confirm that what they were seeing was some kind of prayer, with Lalit said to be witnessed praying in front of trees and feeding animals.
“Hmm.”
Sweetie Belle turned her attention to her friend.
“Something on your mind?”
“Ah was just thinkin’, wouldn’t a family be feelin’ better if they could keep in touch with dead loved ones?”, Apple Bloom pontificated. “Ah feel like if Lalit got better and the rest of the family’s situation got better thanks ta Bhopal livin’ on through his son, then why would they need ta… end it all?”
“I mean, that’s assuming that their dad really is talking through his son. Lalit could totally just be crazy.”, Scootaloo reminded them.
Sweetie Belle raised an eyebrow, “Weren’t you the one who was just talking about rebirth a second ago?”
“Hey, I didn’t say I believe in that.”
“Aw, come off it! Y’all are just sayin’ that cause yer scared of the idea of talkin’ ta ghosts.”
As she turned back to the screen, Apple Bloom paid no attention to Scootaloo pulling down her eyelid and sticking her tongue out at her.
Whilst the local community saw very little of what went on inside their home, the Chundawat household became the platform for the family’s spiritual development. They would gather together for thirty minutes of prayer every morning and evening. Once Lalit became head of the household, he would convince his family that he was the reincarnation of his father and that he was their path to salvation. Even his leadership style started to resemble Bhopal’s, insisting that his control and authority over the family must be absolute and never be challenged. The family was ordered to keep their practices secret, even from extended relatives.
All three fillies slowly blinked, struggling to find the right words in the face of how rapidly this situation was taking a turn; Apple Bloom shook her head rapidly as if to clear it of doubt.
“Alright, that is a mite weird, ah’ll admit it. But, it ain’t proof of any mass suicide.”
“You remember when you asked me how I would react if I was told you and your family all killed themselves?”
The farm filly’s ears lowered slightly in the face of Sweetie Belle’s highly abrupt question.
“Y-yeah?”
“Well, if you noticed us and our families acting weird like the Chundawats, wouldn’t you think something was wrong with us?”
The story continued while Apple Bloom took a moment to muster a response. Despite friends and family noticing them becoming increasingly introverted and withdrawn, the Chundawat household’s financial situation had improved. They even expanded into two new sources of income in addition to the plywood shop, those being a grocery store and a new commercial business that was still in the process of being set up. Lalit would obviously credit this success to his father’s spirit giving him instructions.
Her ears perked back up.
“Well, how do y’all explain the fact they had an awful lot ta look forward to for people supposedly achin’ ta kill themselves?”
“Ummm. Hate to break this to you, but that’s not proof of anything either.”
Apple Bloom swiftly turned to Scootaloo and asked, “What do ya mean?”
Sheepishly rubbing the back of her head, Scootaloo explained, “One time I asked Rainbow Dash why this stallion whose picture was in the Wonderbolts Hall of Fame had such a shorter career than everypony else pictured there.”
Putting her hoof down, she continued, “She told me he killed himself. Nopony understood why he did it, even though he was so successful and seemed to have a lot of good things coming his way.”
Apple Bloom wanted to interrupt, but did not speak up until Scootaloo concluded by saying, “I guess you could say success doesn’t always mean happiness.”
“But-“
All of the fillies were only paying half attention to the story as Apple Bloom struggled to retort. All the narrator’s descriptions of the contents of the family’s journals were becoming mere background noise to her as she lightly stomped her hoof on the chair.
“But that Wonderbolt ain’t killed his family too, right?”
Scootaloo couldn’t help but flinch as she witnessed her friend more combative.
“Well… no.”
“Damn right, he didn’t! Cause nopony does that ta their own family!”
Before the conversation could continue, Sweetie interjected.
“Shh! Listen!”
Scootaloo and Apple Bloom were about to snap back at Sweetie for interrupting, when something the narrator said recaptured their attention. Having finally snapped out of the back and forth, they managed to take notice when it was said that police discovered journal entries mentioning some kind of strange ritual. A ritual that was supposed to be performed on June 30th, 2018, almost eleven years to the day after Bhopal Singh had passed away. As much as Apple Bloom wanted to believe that journal entry wasn’t what it sounded like, her faith would be whittled away with each successive detail revealed.
One supposed diary entry by Lalit talked about his belief that the human body is temporary and how fear can be overcome by closing one’s eyes and mouth. The girls struggled to grapple with and make sense of this view of life espoused by Lalit. But they were given no time to contemplate this as more shocking parallels kept being shared. Another excerpt described how hands and legs were to be tied as well as how grandma was to lie down in a separate room. More and more of these details were lining up with the state that the bodies were found in, as the narrator so helpfully pointed out.
Apple Bloom failed to find the right response, leaving her to sit helplessly and gawk at the cracks she could see forming in her argument.
“But… family don’t do that ta family!”
She would’ve repeated this mantra out loud, but she could feel a lump forming in her throat which made speaking up feel fruitless at the moment. As the narrator kept the story going, Apple Bloom decided it was best to just listen quietly in hopes of getting some kind of counter evidence. She needed at least one moment of solace before this wrapped up.
Over a graph of their family tree, the narrator quickly recapped all eleven of the family members/victims as a way to illustrate a very important question. How did Lalit manage to convince everyone to resort to such drastic action? It turns out that the answer could be found in a phenomenon that the trio of fillies became familiar with after the Fatima story, Shared Psychotic Disorder. There was precedent for someone with delusions being able to pass those delusions on to others, most commonly in cults. As long as a leader is charismatic and convincing enough, they can convince their followers to place absolute trust in them beyond reason. One infamous example the narrator named was the “Jonestown Massacre of 1978”.
Scootaloo spoke up through a frown, “You know, if you can’t fully, totally trust your family, then who?”
Years of their big sisters passing down all they’ve learned about friendship, reinforcing the idea that your closest friends and family can always be counted upon, has left them unprepared to hear something like this. The thought that not only could you not count on your family, but they can be the ones most capable of hurting you was existentially threatening. It was like being told that there won’t be a princess who can raise the sun anymore. The concept of her sister leading her to death permeated the back of Apple Bloom’s mind for much of this story and she could feel it coming to the forefront of her thoughts; she rubbed her tummy to ease the know she could feel in her gut.
Luckily, the narrator gave her something to distract from the onset of nausea. Further scrutiny of the diaries revealed notes from other family members that didn’t add up with the mass suicide angle. These notes talked about plans they had set up days, even weeks in advance. Pratibha’s daughter Priyanka was even engaged to be married at the end of the year and she even spoke of this in her own diary. Once again, it was brought up how those who knew the Chundawats got the impression that they were a family who were still looking forward to a tomorrow. This was backed up by their behavior leading up to their deaths.
The girls allowed themselves a smile as they were told of how the day prior, Priyanka had given one of her friends an invitation to her wedding and had given her clothes to be washed. The teens in the household had planned a cricket match for the following day. Several of the adults had arranged meetings and made other plans over the phone. As pleasant as it was to imagine the Chundawats as they were before death, these details were also starting to breed frustration.
“Ugh, none of this adds up!”, Apple Bloom griped. “Ah really wanna just accept this as ultimate proof, but with those diaries… ah dunno what ta think anymore.”
Not knowing what to do with her hooves, Sweetie Belle ran one of them through her mane, “If they really did kill themselves, it’s starting to feel that choice was made really abruptly.”
“Abruptly?”
“As in, it happened before anyone was expecting it to.”, she quickly answered Scootaloo.
Indeed, even the narrator began to wonder if the rest of the family even knew they were going to die. He raised the possibility that this was all a spiritual or religious ritual gone horribly wrong. This would have been a compelling alternative for the trio of fillies watching if it weren’t for the fact that the grandma had been found strangled in the other room. Another inconsistency was the fact that the feet of the two youngest members, Dhruv and Shivam, were touching the floor. This indicated that those two might not have died from the hanging, but were killed or even tranquilized beforehand with their bodies being hung up afterward.
“Wait, so what does that mean? That someone else really did it?”, Apple Bloom wondered.
Everypony sure hoped that’s what it meant. Instead, it was suggested that most of the family was expecting to survive the ritual, but one or even two or three of them must have intended for them all to end their lives. That would make this a case of mass murder, with Lalit as the prime suspect. The girls didn’t know what to say to that either. Apple Bloom tried looking deep into the eyes of Lalit, once again shown standing together with his family in a group portrait. Try as she might to look for some sort of tell tale sign of his guilt or innocence, no answers came to her. That being said, the narrator was ready to remind the audience that the involvement of a third party could not be ruled out as a possibility. People familiar with the case often wonder where Lalit learned of this ritual, which usually leads to the suggestion that he was being influenced by some unnamed cult.
“I thought that was supposed to be something his dad’s spirit told him to do?”
Scootaloo scoffed at that, replying to Sweetie with, “Can you even call this a ritual?”
An interesting detail written in the so-called instructions was that one of the steps was to leave the front door unlocked. This could have been a way to allow another cult member to sneak into the house and take the family’s cash and belongings unopposed. That is, if it weren’t for Lalit’s friend arriving on the scene first. As interesting a possibility as it is, police have found no connection to any other groups so far. Even if there were any connections to be found, Apple Bloom still wouldn’t be satisfied. The fact that every explanation given so far had Lalit being complicit in his family’s death was bringing her no comfort.
Glum as she was, Apple Bloom might have started tuning out if it weren’t for the narrator mentioning the existence of paranormal theories. There are those who truly believed that Lalit was possessed by the spirit of his dead father, who wanted his family to join him in the afterlife. Apple Bloom immediately resented this theory too, especially for putting the idea of dear old Granny Smith doing exactly the same thing from beyond the grave. Thankfully, a better explanation came immediately after; that being the possibility that some sort of evil entity or “demon” was tricking Lalit into following its orders by pretending to be Bhopal.
Apple Bloom sighed. If possession or deception by an evil force was the least soul-crushing explanation she was going to get, then she’d take it. Having been there before, she could at least feel a little sorry for Lalit if she assumed this was true. However, the strangest explanation, if you could call it that, had yet to come. Everypony grew perplexed when the narrator began discussing the superstition surrounding this case, particularly it connections with the number eleven.
“Why? What’s special about the number eleven?”, Scootaloo asked with a head tilt.
“Wait is it one of those unlucky numbers?”, she then privately wondered to herself.
For starters, there were eleven family members who kept a total of eleven diaries for eleven years after the death of their father, and their ritual resulted in eleven deaths. While these observations seemed obvious, it seemed to run deeper than that. Strangely, even the house itself had connections to the number eleven. Above the front door there were eleven iron bars. There were eleven pipes on the side of the house that didn’t even connect to any water source or ventilation ducts, making their purpose a mystery. If that weren’t bizarre enough, the narrator even began to describe how the placement and arrangement of these pipes were similar to how the eleven bodies were found. As the narrator went into detail about these similarities, the girls were genuinely surprised by how much less crazy these comparisons started sounding the longer they listened. It was eerie enough to make the fur on the back of their necks stand up.
Scootaloo grew a little nervous.
“Are they saying this was some kind of curse?”
Somehow, it got even stranger when it was revealed that Lalit had these pipes installed only a few months prior to their deaths, insisting that it was for ventilation purposes. When the person who installed them suggested getting windows instead, Lalit simply refused. This very personal touch to the house by Lalit possibly further suggested that the outcome of the ritual really was part of his plan. This only forced both the narrator and all three audience members to once again ponder the question which truly sat at the heart of this case: What was going in Lalit’s head to make him decide to kill himself and his family?
Apple Bloom sighed as she began to realize how foolish she was to expect any closure from this.
“Serves me right, ah guess.”
She barely listened as the narrator shared an excerpt from his final notes. It talked about a lot of things, all of which the girls found confusing. From starting on the fulfillment of a “last wish”, to describing moving skies and trembling earth, to ending on a promise to “bring down” everyone. All of this left the Crusaders struggling to piece together this entry to the death that followed, unsure what it was supposed to clarify.
“What did any of that mean?”, Sweetie Belle asked.
“Does it even matter?”, Apple Bloom lethargically retorted.
As part of the conclusion, it was suggested that Lalit was likely so inwardly damaged that he didn’t want to continue on, yet he didn’t want to go alone. In any case, what everyone was left with was a tragic waste of eleven lives. A sentiment nopony disagreed with as the narrator gave condolences to the friends and family before expressing his hope that the Chundawat family found the salvation they were promised. Even though Apple Bloom was sure this story drained whatever energy she’d have stored up for tomorrow, at the same time she was somehow so restless that she couldn’t even wait for it to fade to black before scooting out of her chair.
Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle had crept to the kitchen doorway and peaked their head around the corner.
“Psst… Apple Bloom, you alright?”, Scootaloo whispered as loudly as she thought she could get away with.
With drooping ears and heavy shoulders, the farm filly trotted up the stairs at such a brisk pace that one wouldn’t be able to tell that she felt as though she was dragging her big brother’s dirt plow behind her. It wasn’t even worth pausing to acknowledge her friends far behind her, their expressions of concern only something that would slow her down. The only thing on her mind was getting back into her sleeping bag, despite the possibility of getting sleep tonight now seemed like a miracle. Her body dropped like a sack of crab apples once she reached her destination. Had she been any closer to sleep a few minutes later when her friends finally arrived, she might have been annoyed when they decided to break the ice.
“Soooo, anything you want to talk about?”, she heard Sweetie Belle ask.
Without even opening her eyes, Apple Bloom could picture the unicorn awkwardly fiddling with her mane as she asked that question.
For a moment, she considered not answering but she reasoned that would only give them more reason for them to keep asking her until she cracked. So, might as well say something that’ll get them off her back. She opened her eyes, turning her face to her friends who stood in the doorway hanging on whatever she was about to share with them.
“Ah should probably say sorry to y’all.”
She arose from the bag as a show of committing to the apology before she continued.
“Ah wish that ah hadn’t made ya feel like ya had ta watch that story with me.”
Judging by their slightly furrowed brows, that wasn’t the kind of answer they were expecting; jury was still out on whether they believed that’s what was actually bothering her.
“Well don’t be down on yourself for that, Bloom. It’s not like you told us we had to watch it with you.”
“Yeah, you gave us an out. But we knew we’d feel worse if we left you down there to watch it by yourself.”
Apple Bloom mustered a small, but seemingly heartfelt smile, “Yeah, ah appreciate that. But that’s kinda what ah mean.”
“Y’all probably wouldn’t felt like ya had ta sit through that with me if ah hadn’t been so stubborn. It ain’t like ah needed ta keep ya from switchin’ to another story.”
Knowing she wasn’t done yet, Apple Bloom’s friends spoke nothing as she paused to quietly take a breath.
“So, just so y’all know. Next time ah’ll be sure ta listen to ya if yer tryin’ ta look out for me.”
With that, the farm filly laid down and settled back into sleeping bag. She wasted no time trying to get to sleep, focusing all her attention on her breathing. Ironically, the room’s silence actually made that easier said than done. Apple Bloom could tell that her friends were still waiting there in case there was something else she felt like talking about. They probably thought she’d start telling them what’s wrong if she felt like it was on her own terms, hence they waited rather than press the issue themselves.To make sure they got the hint this time, she flipped herself sideways in the opposite direction.
“Goodnight.”
A few more seconds of nothing preceded the sounds of them shuffling to their sleeping spots and getting under their covers.
“Finally.”
Apple Bloom’s self-assurance was flipped onto itself when she felt something snuggle up to her. She opened her eyes to see Scootaloo, after having got into her own sleeping bag, had scooted so close to her that she was actually nuzzling against her. Before Apple Bloom could ask what she was doing, a sound from behind forced her to back. Sweetie had laid her bed sheet flat on the floor, before laying down on the edge blanket. Apple Bloom watched the unicorn roll herself in her direction until she was also nestled right up to her friend, wrapped up like a newborn foal all the while.
Looking at the Apple Bloom rolled her eyes; of course. If she wasn’t going to tell her friends how they can help her, then they’d just help her any way they knew how. Should’ve saw that coming. What else can you expect friends to do when you don’t have family around to do it for you?
She took a deep breath as she let her eyes close.
Her friends can be counted on; her family can be counted on. If any mantra was going to help her sleep tonight, it was that one. If there was only one mantra she was going to live by, it’d be that one.
*Slam
In spite of how daunting a task it was, Apple Bloom managed to force her extraordinarily heavy eyelids to open ever so slightly. Rubbing the grog from her vision with her hooves revealed the shambling form of Sweetie Belle entering the kitchen with a newspaper in her magical clutches.
Wait, the kitchen?
A quick survey of her surroundings showed lavender walls, fuchsia cabinets, marble countertops; a glance downward made her realize she was sitting at Miss Rarity’s table, covered in its familiar but ornate covering cloth.
*Snore
And a peek to her side made her finally notice Scootaloo was also sitting at the table, snoozing like Granny Smith after a few minutes in her porch seat.
“Oh right. Rarity said she was startin’ breakfast.”
“Sweetie, I won’t explain further why that idea is in poor taste.”
Her eyes following behind her ears, Apple Bloom saw that same mare preoccupied with the breakfast on the stove, her eyes not even bothering to meet the pleading gaze of her younger sister who now stood beside her.
Just as Sweetie looked like she was about to speak back, Rarity cut her off by turning to meet her gaze.
“And I’ve already heard your points; yes, I will concede that nopony in town would recognize it, therefore they won’t realize there’s anything to take offense to.”
“How long had this conversation been goin’ on without me noticin’?”, Apple Bloom wondered. “Ah really am out of it, ain’t I?”
The fashionista accepted the rolled up newspaper from her sister’s magical grasp with her own as she continued, “But even if that’s the case, that does not change the fact that I’ve got a lot on my plate at the moment.”
Ever the multitasker, Rarity did not need to pause her discussion to flip the contents of the pan.
“So, try to be understanding if I can’t find room in my schedule for such a request.”
Rather than complain or sink into disappointment, Sweetie Belle actually perked up.
“Wait, does that mean that you’ll think about it?”
With a nod from her big sister, she allowed herself a victorious hoof pump before taking seat at the table.
“Just remember”, the mare turned around with soft eyes and furrowed brows meant to reassure without raising somepony’s hopes too high. “Assuming I can deliver a costume for you on time, I must warn you not to expect your sister’s usual level of chic.”
“Costume?”
Was this about Nightmare Night?
“Don’t worry, it’s not like it needs to be that good.”, Sweetie replied. “Besides, everypony knows you’re a miracle worker.”
That flattery got a giggle out of the mare, “Only sometimes~”
With that, she went back to preparing the food whilst unraveling the morning’s newspaper for a read. For her part, Sweetie Belle simply sat at the table and enjoyed the good start to her day; she would’ve gone on like that, fantasizing about what she had planned a week from now, if she hadn’t noticed her friend staring at her from two seats away.
“Oh hey! You’re awake.”, she said to Apple Bloom.
“Just barely.”, the farm filly mumbled. ”Compared to you, ah might as well be asleep though.”
All the while, the pegasus between them still slumped forward and snored.
Sweetie Belle leaned in to begin whispering, “Yeah. I didn’t actually sleep so well last night, but I’m so excited about what I got planned next week that I don’t even care.”
“Yeah, ah heard somethin’ about that. Y’all figured out yer Nightmare Night costume or somethin’?”
“Yeah. I’d tell you what it is buuut, I’d like it to be a surprise.”
Apple Bloom really didn’t mind the secrecy, not when something more delicious was getting her attention. A magnetic smell emanating from the stove had been filling the room since she’d woken up, but it was only now when she started taking in the scent did she recognize the smell of eggs and…
“Is that haybacon!?”
Oh, it smelled so good! Apple Bloom wasn’t sure how much longer she can wait for that delectable breakfast. Yet, a part of her felt like she could sit there forever enjoying that mouth-watering scent. She wasn’t expecting anything to pry her attention away from this smell; not even the muttering she could hear in the room right now.
”That can’t be right.”
Or so she thought.
Her eyes now open, Apple Bloom turned to where she heard the disturbance to find Rarity with her back away from the stove, having put the frying pans and cooking utensils down for the first time she stopped dozing off as she buried her face into the newspaper.
“What’s not right?”
Rarity ignored her sister’s question, instead trotting out of the kitchen where she left the cooking unattended. After a moment, Apple Bloom leaned over and craned her neck to see into the room on the other side and saw the mare trot into view from left, wearing her sewing glasses. Once again, her face was buried deep into the news, her eyes studying it with the intensity of a scholar trying to decipher hieroglyphs they’d discovered on the walls of ancient burial tomb. She turned the paper onto every side and looked at it from every angle imaginable.
“No, I must not be remembering correctly. This isn’t the one they boarded…”
Already difficult to hear, her words only got more indecipherable as she once again swiftly moved out of sight from the entryway. Sweetie Belle scooted out of her chair to pursue, Apple Bloom joining her by the time she reached the entryway. In the next room, Rarity was frantically digging though the mail she accumulated this past week, quickly inspecting each one before immediately tossing them aside when they weren’t what she was looking for.
“Not it, not it, not it-“
“Rarity, what’s going on?”
The sound of her sister’s voice snapped Rarity out of her search, turning around to reveal a face so wide-eyed and wrinkled in panic that she would’ve detested how she looked right now if she were in front of a mirror.
“Sweetie!”, she exclaimed. “Could I ask you a favor?”
Her expression caught both fillies off-guard, and Sweetie was even given the chance to respond before Rarity relayed her request in a tone equally as troubling.
“I can’t find yesterday’s mail in this pile. Since I’m unable to remember where I put them, I need you girls to help me scour the house and find them right at once.”