REAL HORROR STORIES OF ASSAM|| A PARANORMAL EXPERT FOUND THE MOST TERRIFIED POSSESSION CASE |PODCAST
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- Опубликовано: 10 фев 2025
- disclaimer For talk unfiltered assamese podcast
The stories are not suitable for the faint of heart. It might also include information about the podcast's purpose and the responsibility of the podcast creators:
The podcast is for informational purposes only and should not be considered legal advice.
The podcast creators are not responsible for any losses, damages, or liabilities that may arise from the use of the podcast.
The stories are for entertainment purposes only and do not claim to be true. The podcast does not intend to spread or promote any superstitions or to offend any religion or community.
Video editor: Mangaldeep mazumdar
#krishnakshisharma #podcast #assamesepodcast #assameseinterview #horrorpodcast #horrorstories #horrorstory #krishnakshi’svlogs
![Felix "Unfair" | [Stray Kids : SKZ-PLAYER]](http://i.ytimg.com/vi/Oswujxm2Ag0/mqdefault.jpg)
He seems to be a very intellectual and genuine paranormal investigator...love to hear it ..wish he comes again with more of such ghosty true stories ✨
Mur ghr t june 2023 t eta lora e suicide korisil.. rent t asil with his mother and he was only 21 years old.. after that case sob rent r manuh ulai gol only mur papa mummy younger brother and moi asilu.. but we never feel like any paranormal activities.. may be because ami nam kirtan krisilu and always dhup dhuna jolai thaku
😂😂
Thanks Krishnakshi ❤for sharing this amazing interesting video... because it's my favourite subject & awaiting eagerly for 2nd part
One of the best…request the host to come up with the part 2….😊
Moi eta time ot Digboit aasilu and there are so many stories in that old town..the bungalows, the Digboi Cemetery..that place is very mysterious..also the area called Ulta Pool..near Makum to Digboi Highway is infamous for ghost sightings.
Yesss
Apuni apunr experience likhibosun rj jharna ba loi messenger t...Teo regular you tube t porhi xunai.ami regular xunu
Moi digboit a asu since last 6 year, aku nai haibur Digboit, okol stories hoi haibur
@@DipankarHandiqueBloGs Dada nijor logot hua jonehe buji pai actually, apunar lgt eku hua ni you are lucky
2nd part lge.. Teur aru bohut experience ase. Janibo bisaru. Alp entities buror background tup kobo dba.. Like keo possess krise? Aru guest jonor keo etu career lole.. T
Bohut bhal lagil.Bohut intresting asil...part 2 lage...
Part 2 lage ,bohut val lagil sai
Very interesting nice conversation
Unbelievable experiences I have also faced 👍
2nd part lage... mojah lagise kotha khini xuni dada jonor
Joyraj da Sanoubar here. So proud to see you shine in your field. I kinda know you are made for big things in your life. Wish you luck. 😊
Krishnakshi, eagerly waiting for the second part. Khub bhal lagil sai
Lage ba podcast 2
ভাল লাগিল ।
Val lagil baa podcast tu sai...Vutia experience muru ase dei..😣
Kowa sn
Waiting 2nd part
Val lagile dyok sai 🎉🎉
Ki dim??
Really loved the whole show Sir and Ma'am🥰 Looking forward to more such podcast from Joyraj Sir 🙏
Pls ask someone a question from myside- human feelings are because of neurons i.e brain...how entities/energies (atma) have feelings like revenge, lust, human like feelings after death..as they dont have brains nd physical forms...pls ask in next podcasts...btw a very nice podcast ..😊
Really very interesting…Many new things we came to know..
Waiting for part 2
Bahut bhal lagil, Very interested topic ,my favourite, please discuss 2nd part qeekly
Interesting, bht vl lgilee, 2nd part lgee
Bohut val lagil Sai...
We need part 2
Thank you Ba for sharing this interesting video...I am waiting for 2nd part
Enekua podcast bur diba sun ❤
GMC view point't eku nai...moi prai a jau rati..100% agree with you
Waiting for 2nd part
Waiting for Part 2
Nice interesting ❤
Very nice podcast❤
Baa 2nd part lage.pranik healing r bikhaye ata poadcast anibsn plz.
Hoi xosa kotha .Kaziranga r kun khon resort or kotha koise njnu ,but tat ekhon ase grassland resort .Tat MI Lifestyle Marketing pvt ltd compay r program hoi maje maje ,mur sinaki manuh egoraki xei program ot goi gaat kiba lagi ahisil. Bohut din bemar porile and moribo loisil olopot basise. TANTRIK ok dekhuai bhal korise .And manuh joni e tat program ot bohi thakutei gaa sesa pori goisil and jor hoisil. Tat parile apunaluke okole njbo gole manuh loi jabo especially thakibo gole .Bohut beya bostu ase tat
Thanks for the information
Vll lgise baa ❤
Ru lge anekuwa horror podcast
Rukminigaon Meghamallar Apartment .,. That was spine chilling for me. The things I have felt there it has changed my perspective about supernatural things
Elaborate
@Talkunfilteredassamesepodcast
It was January 2013, the heart of winter, and I had just returned from my hometown in Upper Assam after Bihu. My leave was over, and though I had cherished the time with family, duty called. I lived in a rented flat in Meghamallar Rukminigaon, a place I had shared with a roommate for two years. But this time, I returned alone-my roommate had decided to stay back for a while. I had no idea that being alone in that flat would unravel something that would haunt me forever.
The first evening was ordinary. I cooked some pork for dinner, ate, and went to bed. The flat was eerily silent without my roommate's usual presence, but I paid no attention to it. I was exhausted and quickly fell asleep. The night passed without incident.
The second night was different.
It began like any other evening-I returned from a long, hectic day, ate dinner, and went to bed. My flat had two doors: one leading to the hall and another to the balcony. Before sleeping, I locked everything, as was my habit, securing even the hook at the bottom of the hall door. I drifted into sleep, oblivious to what the night had planned for me.
At exactly 2:50 AM, I was jolted awake by a deafening bang. The hall door had flung open with such force it echoed through the flat. I sat up in bed, my heart pounding, trying to make sense of what just happened. My room was pitch dark and cold, and for a fleeting moment, I saw a shadow near the door. A chill ran down my spine.
I jumped out of bed, grabbed a shawl, and rushed to the balcony, hoping to spot the security guard. But the courtyard below was empty. The fog outside was thick, suffocating, and my breath clouded in the freezing air. I didn’t dare step out of my room again. Instead, I turned on the TV, letting its noise fill the oppressive silence.
What happened next defied explanation. Within minutes, a dense fog began forming inside my room. The temperature dropped drastically, an unnatural cold that seeped into my bones. It felt as if the room itself was rejecting me, pushing me out. I was terrified, but exhaustion eventually overtook me, and I drifted in and out of sleep until dawn.
At first light, I packed my belongings and left for my jethai’s house in Hatigaon. I couldn’t bear to stay in that flat another minute. As I sat in her living room, trying to shake off the night’s events, memories of strange occurrences in the flat came rushing back.
My friend Biswajit, known as Maina, had always complained about my flat. “Tumar ghorot ahi hosake kou ekdom bhal nalage,” he’d say every time he visited. He claimed it felt heavy, gloomy, and unwelcome. I had brushed off his words, assuming he was just being superstitious.
One evening, when I was at the market, Maina had stayed back at my flat. Later, he told me something chilling: he tried to enter the hall, but the door was locked from the inside. He thought the TV was already on, but when he managed to push the door open, the TV unit was oddly in front of the door. He swore the furniture had moved by itself. Again, I dismissed it. I wasn’t one to believe in the supernatural.
But what happened next was impossible to ignore.
One evening, as I was preparing to attend a wedding, another friend, Romi, came over. The electricity was out, and I was showering when Romi suddenly began banging on the bathroom door. “Oi, hol nai bey! Moi jau, moi nathaku yaat!” he shouted, his voice filled with panic.
Romi, who was known for his quiet, almost stoic demeanor, was acting completely out of character. Startled, I quickly finished up and got ready. He was visibly shaken and insisted we leave immediately.
As we descended the stairs, a sudden earthquake struck. We hurried to the safety of the ground floor. Once we were in my car, Romi finally spoke. “I’m not coming back to your flat. Ever.”
“Why?” I asked, feeling a knot form in my stomach.
“I saw a woman,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “She was sitting in the corner of your hall, near the entrance.”
Goosebumps rose on my arms. Romi was the last person I’d expect to say something like that. He was bold, practical, and a staunch disbeliever in anything supernatural. If he was saying this, it wasn’t a joke.
By February, I had left that flat for good. Even now, when I think about it, I can feel the icy fog, hear the echo of that door banging open, and see Romi’s pale, terrified face. That flat in Meghamallar wasn’t just a place to live-it was something else entirely, something that didn’t want us there.
@@Talkunfilteredassamesepodcast
It was January 2013, the heart of winter, and I had just returned from my hometown in Upper Assam after Bihu. My leave was over, and though I had cherished the time with family, duty called. I lived in a rented flat in Rukminigaon Meghamallar, a place I had shared with a roommate for two years. But this time, I returned alone-my roommate had decided to stay back for a while. I had no idea that being alone in that flat would unravel something that would haunt me forever.
The first evening was ordinary. I cooked some pork for dinner, ate, and went to bed. The flat was eerily silent without my roommate's usual presence, but I paid no attention to it. I was exhausted and quickly fell asleep. The night passed without incident.
The second night was different.
It began like any other evening-I returned from a long, hectic day, ate dinner, and went to bed. My flat had two doors: one leading to the hall and another to the balcony. Before sleeping, I locked everything, as was my habit, securing even the hook at the bottom of the hall door. I drifted into sleep, oblivious to what the night had planned for me.
At exactly 2:50 AM, I was jolted awake by a deafening bang. The hall door had flung open with such force it echoed through the flat. I sat up in bed, my heart pounding, trying to make sense of what just happened. My room was pitch dark and cold, and for a fleeting moment, I saw a shadow near the door. A chill ran down my spine.
I jumped out of bed, grabbed a shawl, and rushed to the balcony, hoping to spot the security guard. But the courtyard below was empty. The fog outside was thick, suffocating, and my breath clouded in the freezing air. I didn’t dare step out of my room again. Instead, I turned on the TV, letting its noise fill the oppressive silence.
What happened next defied explanation. Within minutes, a dense fog began forming inside my room. The temperature dropped drastically, an unnatural cold that seeped into my bones. It felt as if the room itself was rejecting me, pushing me out. I was terrified, but exhaustion eventually overtook me, and I drifted in and out of sleep until dawn.
At first light, I packed my belongings and left for my jethai’s house in Hatigaon. I couldn’t bear to stay in that flat another minute. As I sat in her living room, trying to shake off the night’s events, memories of strange occurrences in the flat came rushing back.
My friend Biswajit, known as Maina, had always complained about my flat. “Tumar ghorot ahi hosake kou ekdom bhal nalage,” he’d say every time he visited. He claimed it felt heavy, gloomy, and unwelcome. I had brushed off his words, assuming he was just being superstitious.
One evening, when I was at the market, Maina had stayed back at my flat. Later, he told me something chilling: he tried to enter the hall, but the door was locked from the inside. He thought the TV was already on, but when he managed to push the door open, the TV unit was oddly in front of the door. He swore the furniture had moved by itself. Again, I dismissed it. I wasn’t one to believe in the supernatural.
But what happened next was impossible to ignore.
One evening, as I was preparing to attend a wedding, another friend, Romi, came over. The electricity was out, and I was showering when Romi suddenly began banging on the bathroom door. “Oi, hol nai bey! Moi jau, moi nathaku yaat!” he shouted, his voice filled with panic.
Romi, who was known for his quiet, almost stoic demeanor, was acting completely out of character. Startled, I quickly finished up and got ready. He was visibly shaken and insisted we leave immediately.
As we descended the stairs, a sudden earthquake struck. We hurried to the safety of the ground floor. Once we were in my car, Romi finally spoke. “I’m not coming back to your flat. Ever.”
“Why?” I asked, feeling a knot form in my stomach.
“I saw a woman,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “She was sitting in the corner of your hall, near the entrance.”
Goosebumps rose on my arms. Romi was the last person I’d expect to say something like that. He was bold, practical, and a staunch disbeliever in anything supernatural. If he was saying this, it wasn’t a joke.
By February, I had left that flat for good. Even now, when I think about it, I can feel the icy fog, hear the echo of that door banging open, and see Romi’s pale, terrified face. That flat in Meghamallar wasn’t just a place to live-it was something else entirely, something that didn’t want us there.
@@Talkunfilteredassamesepodcast It was January 2013, the heart of winter, and I had just returned from my hometown in Upper Assam after Bihu. My leave was over, and though I had cherished the time with family, duty called. I lived in a rented flat in Rukminigaon, a place I had shared with a roommate for two years. But this time, I returned alone-my roommate had decided to stay back for a while. I had no idea that being alone in that flat would unravel something that would haunt me forever.
The first evening was ordinary. I cooked some pork for dinner, ate, and went to bed. The flat was eerily silent without my roommate's usual presence, but I paid no attention to it. I was exhausted and quickly fell asleep. The night passed without incident.
The second night was different.
It began like any other evening-I returned from a long, hectic day, ate dinner, and went to bed. My flat had two doors: one leading to the hall and another to the balcony. Before sleeping, I locked everything, as was my habit, securing even the hook at the bottom of the hall door. I drifted into sleep, oblivious to what the night had planned for me.
At exactly 2:50 AM, I was jolted awake by a deafening bang. The hall door had flung open with such force it echoed through the flat. I sat up in bed, my heart pounding, trying to make sense of what just happened. My room was pitch dark and cold, and for a fleeting moment, I saw a shadow near the door. A chill ran down my spine.
I jumped out of bed, grabbed a shawl, and rushed to the balcony, hoping to spot the security guard. But the courtyard below was empty. The fog outside was thick, suffocating, and my breath clouded in the freezing air. I didn’t dare step out of my room again. Instead, I turned on the TV, letting its noise fill the oppressive silence.
What happened next defied explanation. Within minutes, a dense fog began forming inside my room. The temperature dropped drastically, an unnatural cold that seeped into my bones. It felt as if the room itself was rejecting me, pushing me out. I was terrified, but exhaustion eventually overtook me, and I drifted in and out of sleep until dawn.
At first light, I packed my belongings and left for my jethai’s house in Hatigaon. I couldn’t bear to stay in that flat another minute. As I sat in her living room, trying to shake off the night’s events, memories of strange occurrences in the flat came rushing back.
My friend Biswajit, known as Maina, had always complained about my flat. “Tumar ghorot ahi hosake kou ekdom bhal nalage,” he’d say every time he visited. He claimed it felt heavy, gloomy, and unwelcome. I had brushed off his words, assuming he was just being superstitious.
One evening, when I was at the market, Maina had stayed back at my flat. Later, he told me something chilling: he tried to enter the hall, but the door was locked from the inside. He thought the TV was already on, but when he managed to push the door open, the TV unit was oddly in front of the door. He swore the furniture had moved by itself. Again, I dismissed it. I wasn’t one to believe in the supernatural.
But what happened next was impossible to ignore.
One evening, as I was preparing to attend a wedding, another friend, Romi, came over. The electricity was out, and I was showering when Romi suddenly began banging on the bathroom door. “Oi, hol nai bey! Moi jau, moi nathaku yaat!” he shouted, his voice filled with panic.
Romi, who was known for his quiet, almost stoic demeanor, was acting completely out of character. Startled, I quickly finished up and got ready. He was visibly shaken and insisted we leave immediately.
As we descended the stairs, a sudden earthquake struck. We hurried to the safety of the ground floor. Once we were in my car, Romi finally spoke. “I’m not coming back to your flat. Ever.”
“Why?” I asked, feeling a knot form in my stomach.
“I saw a woman,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “She was sitting in the corner of your hall, near the entrance.”
Goosebumps rose on my arms. Romi was the last person I’d expect to say something like that. He was bold, practical, and a staunch disbeliever in anything supernatural. If he was saying this, it wasn’t a joke.
By February, I had left that flat for good. Even now, when I think about it, I can feel the icy fog, hear the echo of that door banging open, and see Romi’s pale, terrified face. That flat in Meghamallar wasn’t just a place to live-it was something else entirely, something that didn’t want us there
It was January 2013, the heart of winter, and I had just returned from my hometown in Upper Assam after Bihu. My leave was over, and though I had cherished the time with family, duty called. I lived in a rented flat in Rukminigaon, a place I had shared with a roommate for two years. But this time, I returned alone-my roommate had decided to stay back for a while. I had no idea that being alone in that flat would unravel something that would haunt me forever.
The first evening was ordinary. I cooked some pork for dinner, ate, and went to bed. The flat was eerily silent without my roommate's usual presence, but I paid no attention to it. I was exhausted and quickly fell asleep. The night passed without incident.
The second night was different.
It began like any other evening-I returned from a long, hectic day, ate dinner, and went to bed. My flat had two doors: one leading to the hall and another to the balcony. Before sleeping, I locked everything, as was my habit, securing even the hook at the bottom of the hall door. I drifted into sleep, oblivious to what the night had planned for me.
At exactly 2:50 AM, I was jolted awake by a deafening bang. The hall door had flung open with such force it echoed through the flat. I sat up in bed, my heart pounding, trying to make sense of what just happened. My room was pitch dark and cold, and for a fleeting moment, I saw a shadow near the door. A chill ran down my spine.
I jumped out of bed, grabbed a shawl, and rushed to the balcony, hoping to spot the security guard. But the courtyard below was empty. The fog outside was thick, suffocating, and my breath clouded in the freezing air. I didn’t dare step out of my room again. Instead, I turned on the TV, letting its noise fill the oppressive silence.
What happened next defied explanation. Within minutes, a dense fog began forming inside my room. The temperature dropped drastically, an unnatural cold that seeped into my bones. It felt as if the room itself was rejecting me, pushing me out. I was terrified, but exhaustion eventually overtook me, and I drifted in and out of sleep until dawn.
At first light, I packed my belongings and left for my jethai’s house in Hatigaon. I couldn’t bear to stay in that flat another minute. As I sat in her living room, trying to shake off the night’s events, memories of strange occurrences in the flat came rushing back.
My friend Biswajit, known as Maina, had always complained about my flat. “Tumar ghorot ahi hosake kou ekdom bhal nalage,” he’d say every time he visited. He claimed it felt heavy, gloomy, and unwelcome. I had brushed off his words, assuming he was just being superstitious.
One evening, when I was at the market, Maina had stayed back at my flat. Later, he told me something chilling: he tried to enter the hall, but the door was locked from the inside. He thought the TV was already on, but when he managed to push the door open, the TV unit was oddly in front of the door. He swore the furniture had moved by itself. Again, I dismissed it. I wasn’t one to believe in the supernatural.
But what happened next was impossible to ignore.
One evening, as I was preparing to attend a wedding, another friend, Romi, came over. The electricity was out, and I was showering when Romi suddenly began banging on the bathroom door. “Oi, hol nai bey! Moi jau, moi nathaku yaat!” he shouted, his voice filled with panic.
Romi, who was known for his quiet, almost stoic demeanor, was acting completely out of character. Startled, I quickly finished up and got ready. He was visibly shaken and insisted we leave immediately.
As we descended the stairs, a sudden earthquake struck. We hurried to the safety of the ground floor. Once we were in my car, Romi finally spoke. “I’m not coming back to your flat. Ever.”
“Why?” I asked, feeling a knot form in my stomach.
“I saw a woman,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “She was sitting in the corner of your hall, near the entrance.”
Goosebumps rose on my arms. Romi was the last person I’d expect to say something like that. He was bold, practical, and a staunch disbeliever in anything supernatural. If he was saying this, it wasn’t a joke.
By February, I had left that flat for good. Even now, when I think about it, I can feel the icy fog, hear the echo of that door banging open, and see Romi’s pale, terrified face. That flat in Meghamallar wasn’t just a place to live-it was something else entirely, something that didn’t want us there
Bhangarh tu misa hoi.,..tat illigal kaam kisuman hoi...karone haunted buli tar locals bur koi fure....gaurav tiwari tat goisile eku napale teu...teuei eitu rumour buli koisil
Superb ❤
Bhut ktha xikhilu aji....aru eta part aniba
One peg is no paranormal . It's universal truth
Does anyone agree with me ????
Baa 2nd part lge😊
Part 2 awaited!
Love your spritual and haunted podcast ❤️
Podcast tu val lagil part2 lage
Val lagil baa sai
Part 2 dba ba❤
Love yo krishnakshi
Kotha kuar style 2 alop komabo baideo... Btw আৰাম্ভ নহয় আৰম্ভ হে
😂😂😂
Joyraaj sir🙏
Interesting podcast.. Thanks Krishnakshi
অসমীয়া লিখোতে কিয় ইংৰাজী আখৰ ব্যৱহাৰ কৰে ? ভিডিওঁটো ভাল লাগিছে ।
Xetu nu ki dangor kotha.likhibo pare .apuni sage English najane
Kisuman keypad use korat digdar hoi aru deri hoi heye lahe lahe koriley banan bhul hoi jai heye
5:20 Mur Ghorot Amateur Radio Station ase EMF Meter aru Bhut duye thakile polabo 😊
edin Sirax Khan.k maatok podcast about travelling and he is the 1st moto vlogger of North East India
ভাল লাগিল
Part 2 lage baa
Bht val lagil baa🫶
Good morning, well But One Thing I Like To Suggest Both Of U , if Precticaly Not Possess, than Don't Advise To Other, Don't Challenge of Any Spirit............
Krishnakshi baa 2nd part lge ..........n parallel universe r uprot o video lge ...plzz baa
Done
Part 2 lagibo dei baa.
Can you please make a video which is called Dusri Dhuniya…akhon beleg duniya jot beleg dhoronor manuh neh spirit thaka buli koi. Does it really exist?
Part 2 lage please
😮
Baa 2nd part to lga...teor pora ru bht...story xunibo mon ase...teor experience ase bht...interesting hoi...plzzz akou abr teok matibo...
Part 2 please
Amar sir dekhun ❤
❤
Go for part 2
Part 2 Part2
KrishnaShri question bur vl hoi dhunia koi dhoribo jane tai
2nd part lge
Hy
Mur lohgot 2 same incident hoise😬😬😬😬😬😬
My last question is ,teo rati baltit mute ne bahiror mute?
😮😮
17.14 ekebare jegat dhorise baideue😂
Part 2 lge
Part2
Ohhh my god
Eneko podcast he Saba lage, igle khan he manuh
Part 2 lage. Bhal lagil sai
Mur ghort asey..dinot kaauri hoi thakey..raati moi bohi kotha patu teur logot saador uport bohi..video bonabo nedie..noholey dekhalu hoi..moi dhemali kora nai ..
Eta but tair studiot eri diok enekua podcast jatey bonabo nuarey
Sadhana cannot be transferred 😂😂😂 Jokhini, Bira, Jinn, Preat etc
Amar o hoisile six mile ot asilu
Teuk he apuni nijor kihini hunaley sun😮
Hoi believe nkru dei😂
30% truth 70% fake information.... 2nd podcast ot muk rakhile hol,,, I will expose him...
Dada jonor kotha bor khosa koi xuni vl lge . Aru jdio manohe blv nokre kinto bhot ase moi paiso aibor
2nd part lage
nice
Kaziranga golf resort
24 bosor hol ,,Ako tenekuwa experience powa ni ,,,,eibor Misa kotha ,,,,,, manuhk ondha kori rakhibo babe ,,,
Part 2....
2nd part
Axomiya @TRS
Bhai full video sai a coment kori asu...30% right and 70% wrong information
GMC paharot bhoot sabo goi local manuhor gaali khai ashisu. Goleu enei site view koribo ahisu buli kobo... Bhootor kotha kole beya pai local manuhe
Bhal lagil video tu sai
Part 2 lage
Moiu city faculty student ekhetok dekhanai