Part one of a few jinn stories from the life of a Pakistani exorcist that’ll keep you up at night. These stories have been taken, with permission, from Abus’ Jinns official book.
Ayesha, tell me something.
If a stranger comes knocking at the door and asks you to let him in, will you?
‘Of course not, abu jaan.’
Beta, the same rule applies to things. You cannot, under any circumstances, bring home a thing whose origin is unknown to you.
‘But, abu, what about my new Spiderman collection?’
Well, I can’t put a stop to the newly packaged goodies that your nano and ami get you, of course. But, beta jaan, I mean things from Sunday bazaars or used things jinke owner ka apko na pata ho. This is the sole reason I do not allow gifts from Amir uncle, wohi jo architect hain. He brings all these stones and clay models to decorate his house with. It’s absurd. He doesn’t know that each and everything has an aura i.e. energies – negative and positive.
Even in the Quran, it is said that what we eat affects us. By this, I do not mean the number of carbohydrates or proteins that we digest. No, if we eat haraam food or a meal made by napaak hands or with napaak ingredients, it somehow, somewhere, has an impact.
Ashoo, today I will tell you about a young girl named Fatima. She was a little older than you, perhaps, seventeen. But she was quite mature for her age. When I used to manage our Johar Town wala office, back when your dada jee was alive, an accountant named Arshad worked under me. He was still giving his CA exams, but we paid him well, because he was married and he had Fatima, who’d often accompany her father to the office. From my sweets drawer, I would hand her the honey eclairs you’re so fond of as well. For years till she turned seventeen, she only used to come to me for meethi gollian, or to hand over her school’s challan form.
But that day Ayesha, when Arshad brought her, she smiled in an unusual manner as if we, her and I, had some unfinished business and had met after a long time.
Pale eyes and yellow skin, which I recognized instantly, gave the indication that Arshad had brought along with Fatima beti a demon – attached to her very being.
‘She’s not well, actually,’ Arshad said, patting Fatima on the back.‘Since yesterday, she’s been puking, sir. I told her to rest but she insisted on meeting you’.
I nodded. ‘Arshad, can you let us be for a moment?’ Arshad looked at me hesitantly and, after taking a few steps back, left with the door half shut. Us waqt, we had wooden doors, not the see-through glass ones I have ab.
I was going to ask Fatima to sit down when quite frankly she positioned herself on one of those old leather chairs across the room and hoisted her legs on my table. I knew what was to follow, so I just recited Allah’s name and waited for it.
‘Baat nahin kare ga tu?’
I refused to look at my accountant’s daughter because, with her legs on the table, her shalwar had pulled back, making her bare legs visible.
‘Haan, main bhool gae, tu tou bohut paak mard hai.’
I fiddled with my gold-plated ALLAH necklace, and when she saw me doing that, she grinned, uncovering her now stained teeth. ‘Tera Allah isay nahin bachaye ga, Adnan.’
I could have acted at once, but Ayesha, I was a coward and I didn’t. I rang the bell and Arshad came back inside. Fatima’s legs weren’t on the table anymore and some innocence had regained itself on her face.
You see, she had inside her an iblis, a demon, a sheytaan, whose tribe member I had dealt with before. These demons, they can recognize the men who hurt their kind very well.
And if you’re dealing with one type, it’s easy to tell them apart. So, it recognized me, and I recognized it. Even though it had possessed Fatima because of something or some action of hers, but like I said beta, I knew their kind very well back then, and I still felt guilty because it had insisted on meeting me and maybe, somehow, I had something to do with this. That night I didn’t sleep very well. I told your ami about the incident and she was very angry. But gusah tou bunta tha kyun kay Fatima ki juga meri beti bhi tou hou sakti thi aur kya main usay bhi aisay chor deta?
So, the next morning I decided to talk to Arshad, only to find out that he hadn’t come to office, and that his phone was powered off. After work, I decided to go to his house. Beta, your daughter or son might have this ability so it’s vital for you to know that when Allah chooses you to deal with these things and see them with your naked eye, you have a responsibility he will greatly reward you for.
I hadn’t done my spirituality and demonology course back then to understand the spirits in different religions, but Jameel sahab was still my friend, and so I phoned him before going to Arshad’s. On getting there, however, Arshad refused to open the door.
‘Kya lenay aye hain yahan?’
‘Arshad, main aur Adnan sahab aye hain, you didn’t come to the office today,’ Jameel replied.
It took us twenty minutes to get into the house, which was a mess. Arshad was sobbing hysterically and hitting himself. During his sobs, Jameel got to know that Arshad had slapped Fatima on account of her acting unnaturally, and she had run away from the house. I, on the other hand, started examining the house. Fatima’s mother and all other relatives had left to look for her, whilst Arshad had chosen to stay in case she returned. He had no clue about what was in his daughter, and at that point, Jameel and I felt right in not telling him.
When I went to her room, Ayesha, I almost immediately felt a repelling energy coming from behind the door. There, sat a medium-sized mirror set.
Just like you know where your brother is hiding because you’re familiar with all his hiding spots, I knew that it was the mirror which omitted negative energies. Grabbing it wasn’t hard, but I heard a squeal, and I took it to the living room.
‘Yeh kahan say liya?’ I asked.
With swollen eyes, Arshad looked at me, ‘Dimagh sahi hai apka sir, yeh koyi waqt-’
‘Just tell Adnan,’ Jameel cut in, ‘where did you get this from?’
‘One-dollar shop – Haye meri jaan, meri Fatima, yah Allah karam karein!’
Jameel and I looked at each other and after giving hope to Arshad, we decided to leave. We were a step closer to finding Fatima.
Jameel and I, then, traveled around the town to get to the one-dollar shop’s owner. It was past twelve and the shop was closed. The mirror was on the backseat and occasionally, it would start with its annoying, sard dard wala song.
‘I’m a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world
Kuch plastic kuch fantastic…’
‘Adnan, kya ajeeb bhoot hai,’ I laughed. It’s also important to take the whole situation light-heartedly in order to better understand the picture. ‘Mirror main cells dale huwe hain. Gana bhoot nahin gaa raha, Jameel.’
The owner was a kind man whose wife, on being informed about Jameel’s Wapda Town wale thaane main position, almost immediately handed us the shop’s keys. We told her that we weren’t looking for the keys. We needed some information, and that too forun.
It was one of those days when your ami kept calling so after telling her that I was busy and that I couldn’t explain, I turned off my phone. The man, I forgot his name – you know na how bad I am with names – he told us that anyone can leave anything at the one-dollar shop in exchange for money, as long as the item is in a tip-top condition. He didn’t remember who had left the mirror but told us that he could happily accompany us to the shop to check the register. We did not refuse.
Beta, everything in life is linked. People are linked, the happenings are linked, so to put two and two together, you have to understand. I might have the power to sense the paranormal, but if it weren’t for Jameel’s expertise or my experience, today I wouldn’t have saved so many lives.
Khair, the three of us went in Jameel’s police van to the one-dollar shop. It was a thirty-minutes long ride, and the mirror wouldn’t stop singing the song that you and your bhai loved to sing, so the shop’s owner took out the mirror’s cells. Lekin, he did almost faint when with the cells in his hands, and our eyes on the road, the mirror next to him started singing again. He attempted throwing the mirror out of the car, but Jameel switched seats with him and though he was awfully scared, we promised that we would explain the matter to him once we reached his shop.
Just as we arrived, the shop’s owner was reluctant to come out of the vehicle and was also unwilling to be left alone with the mirror, so we took the mirror with us inside the shop.
On researching, Jameel told me that the mirror had no entry in the past six months in the register. Of course, we didn’t argue with the owner because beta, when you’re confused, and yes, your abu has spent half his life being puzzled when dealing with these matters, you stay quiet. With the supernatural involved, everything is possible. Maybe our eyes weren’t seeing the entry or maybe there hadn’t been an entry in the first place. We got a call in the car from Arshad, screaming at the top of his lungs to return Fatima’s mirror because his beti had returned safely and was throwing a tantrum upon not being able to find her prized possession. Jameel was going to yell at Arshad, when I snatched the phone from him.
‘Arshad,’ I said, calmly, ‘We will be there. Theek hai. We are sorry that we took the mirror.’
Saying so, I dropped the call.
‘Yeh kya kiya apne?’ Jameel looked at me, horrified, ‘He’s screaming because what’s in his daughter is attached to this thing. And you’re returning it to him?’
‘Bhai jaan! Ap loug mujhe please meray ghar utaar dain,’ a voice came from the backseat. With his color flushed, the owner was even afraid to be in the same car as us. Khair, we thanked him and dropped him to his place.
‘Acha,’ Jameel continued his argument, ‘Yeh kya kar rahe hain ap. Mazrat chahta houn, CID ka drama nahin hai yeh. We should destroy the mirror, get rid of it.’
Beta, your uncle Jameel is a wise man but when he’s overthinking, he loses his ability to understand situations. And that was one of those moments.
‘Bharosa rakho,’ I answered. ‘Bring the mirror outside with the Quran. Wou khud bahir aa jaye gi. We will start then.’
‘Uff Adnan sahab,’ Jameel groaned, ‘permission k bagair exorcism perform karein gay tou seedha jail jayein gay.’
‘Pehle nahin gaya aj bhi nahin jaoun ga.’
When we reached, the house was rather silent. I had expected a crowd outside or maybe Arshad shouting at me from behind the door, but none of what I had anticipated was happening. Jab Jameel was done with the hisaar and darood, we got out.
I shook my head. ‘Nothing,’ I mumbled under my breath.
According to the plan, Jameel was to stay behind but he insisted on coming. I took out a cloth from the trunk of the van, and standing adjacent to Fatima beti’s room, I started to pray. I had just gone into sujood when my head started to spin, and I felt something drop on my back.
My eyes were shut tight not because I was scared but because I needed to concentrate. There’s no use in being scared. Jameel’s puffed up breath, however, could be sensed. Beta, the key is to not let them smell your fear. Haan, they exist. Haan, they can harm us. But Allah say bharh kar there’s nothing. So, with that belief, I completed an entire prayer with a seventeen-year-old on my back.
When I said my Salam, an upside-down head emerged from on top of my head. ‘Hou gya, Adnan?’
‘Nahin, abhi hona hai,’ I replied.
‘Naam kya hai, tumhara?’ I continued.
Jameel stood by the car now with the mirror and a lighter in his hand – something that wasn’t needed. Some demons, Ayesha, take years to be exorcised, others months, some even result in deaths but this one, had quite frankly been my favorite type. Kyun k us waqt k Jameel ki tarah, yeh bhi darpouk tha. I grasped Fatima’s hand.
‘Oye hoye,’ a hiss came from within Fatima, ‘Karna kya chahta hai?’
I recited the Quran and as my fingers burnt because of Fatima’s body heat, Jameel started to bring the mirror close to Fatima. We let the demon see its true form. We were up till dawn and then we took the mirror with us. We covered Fatima and her marks with the cloth I had used as a prayer mat.
Over the night, the demon had even become you, Ayesha. Talked like you, called me abu jaan like you, but I didn’t stop hurting it, because I knew that it wasn’t you. Fatima is alright now. She’s studying Literature at Kinnaird College. I never got Arshad to work for me again, but that’s alright.
Now, recite Ayat-ul-kursi and go to bed.
Cover image via fool.com.au