Before this story begins, I want to put out that the supernatural element of the story is very limited and all the ways it can be something "mundane" are numerous. Also, some context is due.
This story takes place during the May of 2015, in Ratargul, inside the Haor system of Sylhet, Bangladesh. A Haor is an area consisting of hundreds if not thousands of water bodies. During winter, these water bodies stay separate. During monsoon, they swell up and connect to each other. More than half of Bangladesh is covered in irregular Haors; Haors that don't swell up every year. The Haor system of sylhet is a giant, measuring 25000 km², broken into three main regular ones, Hakaluki, Tanguar and Nikli. These Haors are connected by streams. This story takes place in the Tanguar Haor. Specifically the Ratargul Drowned forest of Tanguar Haor.
I was thirteen at the time, recently finished my Junior School Certification Exam and free. My father was working in Sylhet cadet college as an assistant professor. He heard of the Haor nearby and decided to visit it to reminisce his childhood. My uncle, my father's younger brother, also decided to join. Unfortunately, there were complications in the cadet college and my father could not join us.
We hired a Sampan boat with a shade, along with the boatman, for a four days tour. It was not a motor or a sail boat. The boatman had an oar. We'd eat and sleep in the boat and we would visit several popular places adjacent to Tanguar Haor, such as Bichnakandi, and Sari river.
Our first two days went well. We ate and slept in the boat. Food was very spartan, and very tasty. The Haors are large, but since it's mostly rain water, it is transparent. At some points the depth is twenty meters, at some points it's more than a hundred. You could see the different water based plants that grew on the bottom, from the surface. Much of the noon would be spent under the shade of the Sampan, as there is no shade in the Haor.
The incident occurred during the night of the second. We were supposed to go to the Ratargul swamp forest to spearfish at night, using the light of the on-board lamp as baiting. It was an excellent spot because the water is crystal clear, and because of the trees, the fishes down there could get quite big.
It was also where our boatman chose to rest the boat that night, as the trees break down any currents that could lead the boat astray.
The idea of spearfishing at night was a bad idea. Our boatman had warned about the mosquitoes of the swamp forest, but we didn't comprehend it was quite that bad at night. Neither did our boatman anticipate our resolve to be so poor.
We hunted in five spots and caught four Rohitas in three hours, 7: 00 pm to 10: 00 pm, before my uncle went into the shade, which had been secured with mosquito nets. I kept around for half an hour more, before I followed him back in. I fell asleep shortly after as spearfishing gets you all tensed up.
At night, I woke up to the sound of soft singing. I sat up and saw someone siting on the bow. It wasn't the boatman, as he was sleeping between me and the wait to the shade. It took me little while to gather my bearings and a while more for my eyes to properly adjust.
It seemed to be a woman, with long black hair, facing away from me. She wore a saree the old style, aka without the blouse and stuff. I knew because I could see her back. I cannot say what color of saree because the moonlight wasn't nearly enough for that. I could tell you the color was deep. She was rocking left and right while singing.
I yelled, "who?" She stopped. I felt like she was about to look back at me, but she just stopped. Then she rolled sideways into the water. I heard the splash of her hitting the water surface.
Like any sensible person I tried to crawl out of the shade and find out what just happened. But when I was about to crossed the boatman, he grabbed me and pulled me down. I do not remember his precise words, but what he said was something along the lines of, "Don't go near the water. It'll drag you down."
So as to say, I didn't go. I just squirmed back to my spot and curled up.
Nothing happened for the rest of the night. In the morning, there was no one around. We got out of there before the morning became noon.
We enjoyed the rest of the tour, but I was on guard the whole time.
Our boatman told me that it is something that happens to the boat community as often as once a month in those areas. It is simply that the community depending on the Haor is poor enough for it not to matter.
Ratargul is a very dense forest that still has undiscovered parts despite it's small size, due to how hard it is to travel through it. What do you think that was? Do you think it was just a crazy woman pranking people?