Subha bakhair, bhai jaan (Good morning, brother),” greeted Zahid’s younger brother, Shahid, who was already up....
COVER STORY
As the sun spread its incandescent wings over the valley, the loud clucking of the roosters echoed with the whispers of life across the luscious Ghizer Valley in Punial.
“Did you hear they found Naseem’s body last night in his house? All wrinkled up as if someone had sucked the life out of him.”
“Allah khair (God protect us)! Did his wife not pass away recently as well? That is unfortunate.”
Another voice joined the circle.
“She must have come back to take revenge,” the voice paused, “as a rui (spirit).”
***
Zahid woke from his sleep as the rooster’s cry outside his window refused to stop.
“Subha bakhair, bhai jaan (Good morning, brother),” greeted Zahid’s younger brother, Shahid, who was already up.
“Musa chacha (Uncle Musa) is here. You should go and meet him.”
“So early?” Zahid asked. Shahid only shrugged in response.
Zahid freshened up and left his room. He went straight to the lounge, where he saw his grandfather and Musa chacha talking in low tones, their faces clouded with worry. Before Zahid could step forward to greet them, he overheard something that made him stop in his tracks.
“Are you sure it was the work of a rui?” his grandfather asked.
“Why would I lie about that, Karim baba? You know as well as I do that I would never joke about such a thing,” Musa chacha replied.
Karim’s eyebrows furrowed, the wrinkles on his forehead growing more pronounced. Before he could say anything further, he noticed Zahid’s presence.
“Assalamu Alaikum, Dada jaan (Grandfather) and Musa chacha. Forgive me for not greeting you sooner,” Zahid said.
Musa chacha smiled and waved it off, insisting it was of no consequence and that he was the one at fault for intruding so early in the morning.
Zahid sat down beside his grandfather and asked, “I heard you both mention the rui. Dada jaan used to tell me countless stories about it when I was young. Has something happened?”
Musa chacha’s smile faded, and he glanced at Karim. Karim gave a long sigh before telling Zahid that they were not discussing a story and he should leave. However, Zahid’s curiosity knew no bounds, and he refused. In the end, his grandfather relented and allowed him to stay.
Zahid was aghast as Musa chacha continued. Naseem chacha had been killed! That, too, by his wife, who had returned as a ferocious rui? It felt far too absurd to believe. Before Zahid could fully process the conversation, his father stepped inside carrying small logs.
“What nonsense are you trying to rope my abbu into this time, Musa?” Zahid’s father, Nasir, said as he dropped the logs near the kitchen.
“Nasir bhai, this is no joke! If the rui is not dealt with, our whole village will be in danger. Only Karim baba can help us,” Musa chacha insisted.
Muhammad Karim Ahmed was a renowned and powerful pashun in their small village. A pashun was a chosen individual, believed to possess the knowledge to confront demons such as a rui. People sought their guidance in times of misfortune, trusting in their ability to protect the living from the grasp of the unseen.
Nasir countered sharply, “It was simply unfortunate that Naseem died so soon, nothing more. Stop associating every misfortune to evil.”
Zahid agreed with his father to some extent, but as a believer he knew his grandfather was not a pashun for nothing. The villagers did not revere him out of superstition alone!
Musa left soon after, and the household returned to its usual routine. Yet, as darkness settled over the bright sky, Karim prayed fervently in his room. A sense of foreboding weighed upon him as he lifted his gaze to the silent, starless night.
***
The young man ran as fast as his legs would carry him, stumbling with each frantic step through the dense forest. Darkness pressed in on all sides, the whining of dogs and the whistling of the wind chasing him as he fled. However, another sound cut through the night - a shrill, piercing cry that made his hair bristle and his body lock with fear. Louder and louder it grew until it was upon him, giggling as it grabbed him beneath the full moon’s radiant light, triumphant in its hunt.
***
Karim and Zahid could scarcely believe what they were witnessing. Only that morning, a man had come pleading with Karim to see his eighteen-year-old son, who had mysteriously died during the night. Karim rushed to their house, with Zahid trailing behind despite his grandfather’s reluctance.
The boy’s body lay before them, shrivelled like that of an old man. His face was frozen in sheer terror, mouth stretched wide open in a silent scream. With permission, Karim stepped closer and gently turned the boy’s head for a clearer look at his neck. What he saw confirmed his darkest suspicions: a deep bite mark, raw and swollen, etched into the flesh.
“Did he go out last night?” Karim asked.
“No, he was in his room the whole night. We thought he was sleeping, so we did not disturb him, but when we went in this morning, he was… g-gone.” The father’s voice broke with grief.
Before Karim could offer words of comfort, Zahid spoke up with a question of his own.
“Did he go into the forest at any time during the past week?”
The father frowned, but after a moment, he replied, “Two nights ago, during the full moon, he went into the forest to gather herbs. My wife said he returned complaining of a throbbing pain in his neck.”
Hearing this, Zahid exchanged a troubled glance with his grandfather. After offering their condolences to the grieving family, they left with heavy hearts.
“I am going to meet Musa. You should go back home,” Karim urged.
But Zahid shook his head, insisting that he was now part of this. Karim sighed, reluctant yet resigned, and allowed him to come along. A shadow of fear hung over him as they moved forward.
“So it has struck again,” Musa lamented, handing two cups of namkeen chai (salted tea) to Karim and Zahid before settling with them on the wooden floor.
After sipping from the hot cup, Karim reiterated the gravity of their situation. Musa implored him to act before the rui took more lives.
“We have until the next full moon to prepare,” Karim said. “But having already devoured two young souls, the rui will be stronger this time.”
Musa and Zahid listened, terror in their eyes.
“T-then I’m afraid we do not have much time to prepare for something so horrific,” Zahid stammered.
“We must start today,” Karim declared. “Musa, notify the villagers and tell them to keep their sons under twenty under close supervision. On the night of the full moon you shall, with Zahid’s help, gather the boys and guard them in one place.”
Zahid nodded and asked, “But Dada jaan, how will we catch the rui?”
Before Karim could respond, Musa interrupted him,
“Zahid, your Dada jaan is an expert in these matters. Leave this to him.”
***
Back at home, Karim asked Zahid to warn his eighteen-year-old brother, Shahid, while he went to gather materials for the ritual. Yet even this simple task proved strangely difficult for Zahid.
“Bhai, you are five years older than me, but it does not feel like it,” Shahid teased, kicking the football towards him.
“You are the one acting like a little child,” Zahid retorted, his chapal (slipper) nudging the ball aside as he shouted, “You will do as I say!”
The ball rolled back towards Shahid with surprising force.
“Living with Dada has made you crazy, just like him! Abbu was right,” Shahid snapped.
He did not pass the ball back and ran away.
Zahid sighed in frustration as he watched his brother disappear from sight.
***
Just like that, in the blink of an eye, a month slipped away.
The day of the anticipated hunt dawned as any other day - peaceful, almost deceptively so compared to what awaited the village that evening.
Zahid at last managed to convince Shahid to remain at the designated place with Musa chacha. They had all agreed upon Bibi Azra’s house.
Bibi Azra, the eldest in the village and Karim’s phuppo (paternal aunt), was well-versed in matters of the rui. She had once been Karim’s teacher, guiding him in the practices of the pashun. Without her aid, their task that night would have been near impossible. Karim had already spent the previous night with her, praying and preparing himself.
As the sun sank beyond the valley, Musa chacha and Zahid gathered the young boys inside Bibi Azra’s house.
It was maghrib. The hunt had begun.
To be continued
