Real Supernatural Stories: The Poisonous Jinn and Bashir Molla’s Revenge

I am Zahirul Islam Imran. My home is in the Madrasapara area, near Kamrangirchar thana in Dhaka district. The story I am about to tell is one of the real supernatural stories of Bangladesh, and it centres on a village in Sirajdikhan upazila of Munshiganj district. For good reason I am not naming the village. I collected this story only a few weeks ago.

How the Story Reached Me

About two weeks ago I went to visit a relative in that village in Sirajdikhan. Through my relative I was introduced to his maternal grandfather. He was one of the oldest and most respected men in the village. His name is Moron Sheikh, and he is about seventy-one years old. But his memory is remarkable. He can recall events from before the seventies in such detail and so vividly that it seems they happened yesterday. I am telling it exactly the way he told it. Now listen to Nana Moron Sheikh’s words.

Bashir Molla the Healer

It was many years ago. I was very young then, ten or eleven. In our village lived a man named Bashir Molla. He was a kabiraj by profession, a simple, ordinary-looking man. He always wore a white panjabi and rubber sandals, a cap on his head, and an old shoulder bag over his shoulder. In that bag he kept all kinds of taweez and bundles of dried herbs. The people of the village respected him greatly, because many people had been healed at his hands. Those whose bodies went numb at the touch of a jinn, those whose bodies seemed to burn, those who saw jinn at night and screamed like madmen, Bashir Molla healed them by reciting and blowing over them. He was a man of prayer who always worked in the name of Allah, so everyone revered him. But what is written in a person’s fate, nobody can avoid. In Bashir Molla’s fate too, there came one day a great mistake. And he had to pay for that mistake with his life.

Selim and the Jinn

It began around 1966. It was the height of summer, with a terrible heat wave. There was no sign of a cloud in the sky. The river water had dried up, the canals and marshes were dry, the earth was cracked open. In the heat people could not sleep at night. At exactly that time the son of a poor farmer in the village suddenly fell ill. The boy’s name was Selim, and he was twenty-one or twenty-two. In Selim’s body a strange kind of pain began. In the daytime he was fine. But as soon as evening came, his eyes turned red, his body began to shake, and strange sounds came out of his mouth. Sometimes he began banging his head against the wall.

His father’s name was Abdul Majid Mia, a very poor man who ran the household as a day labourer. Selim was his only child, and he had no other children. He kept Selim like the apple of his eye. At first Majid Mia took his son to the village doctor. The doctor said it was an ordinary fever and that he would recover with medicine. But even after taking the medicine there was no improvement, and day by day the condition got worse. One night Selim suddenly climbed onto the roof of the house and tried to jump. Majid Mia ran and saved him. Then his wife said, weeping, “A jinn has taken hold of your son’s body. Quickly, call Bashir Molla.”

Majid Mia hesitated at first, because Bashir Molla usually took no money from poor people. But seeing his son’s condition, in the end he went and appeared at Bashir Molla’s door. That day was a Friday. After the Friday prayer, Bashir Molla was sitting on the veranda of his house doing something. Majid Mia went to him and told him everything in a tearful voice. Bashir Molla sighed and said, “I am coming right now, you go ahead. I will come with my things.” He took his bag on his shoulder, and took a bottle of blessed water, some oil and some other things. Then he set off toward Majid Mia’s house.

Majid Mia’s house was at the very end of the village, a small tin-roofed house. Behind the house was a mango tree and in front a small yard. When Bashir Molla arrived, the afternoon was coming on and it was time for the Asr adhan. Inside the house, Selim had been laid on a cot. His eyes were bright red, his hands and feet were cold, and foam was coming from his mouth. Majid Mia’s wife was stroking her son’s head and crying. The neighbours had gathered around.

Bashir Molla entered the house and asked everyone except Majid Mia to go outside. Majid Mia was Selim’s father, so nobody but he would be present during the recitation. If a third person was there, the jinn could become even more furious. Bashir Molla and Majid Mia were inside, and Majid Mia’s wife and the neighbours outside the door. Bashir Molla shut the door from inside. In his own way he began ruqyah. While reciting he sat down beside Selim. Selim’s body was shaking violently, his eyes were wide, and foam was coming from his mouth. Bashir Molla took a small container from his bag and poured some oil into it. Then reciting ruqyah and blowing, he began to apply that oil to Selim’s forehead. Just then the terrible thing began.

As he reached out to apply the oil, Selim’s eyes opened. They were no longer the eyes of a twenty-one or twenty-two-year-old boy. They were some other terrible eyes. From Selim’s mouth came a hideous sound, as if someone was screaming from deep inside his throat. Before Bashir Molla could ask anything, the jinn inside Selim said, “Kabiraj, do not try to drive me out. I have an account to settle with you. I have been in this boy’s body for many years. If you drive me out, I will not let you go.” Bashir Molla was not afraid and said firmly, “I have taken the name of Allah. You leave the body of this innocent boy and go. Or I will give you a severe punishment.” The jinn then laughed terribly. The laugh was so hideous that Majid Mia’s wife and the neighbours standing outside the door could hear it. Majid Mia’s wife was nearly fainting, and the neighbour women held her.

The jinn said, “Do not be foolish. You know how deeply I have merged with this boy’s body. If you try to take me out, this boy will die.” Hearing the jinn’s words, Bashir Molla froze. He understood that this was no ordinary jinn but a powerful, terrible jinn of the pishach kind, which enters a human body and tangles itself with flesh and nerves. It is very hard to remove, and removing it will do a lot of damage to the body. But Bashir Molla was a professional and had handled many difficult cases. He thought that with the right method the boy might survive. Without arguing with the pishach, he began his work directly. He recited ruqyah again, stroking Selim’s body as he recited. Each time he touched him, Selim screamed. His body seemed to burn, and foam and blood came from his nose. Bashir Molla could tell that the jinn did not want to leave. But he did not stop the ruqyah, because if he stopped, the jinn could become even stronger and attack him.

Read more: [LINK: Real Ghost Stories: The Baby From the Cremation Ground]

About an hour passed like this. Suddenly Selim let out a terrible scream. Black smoke began to come from his mouth. Bashir Molla thought the jinn was leaving. He began to recite even louder. But here the terrible mistake happened. Bashir Molla was so absorbed in the ruqyah that he did not notice that Selim’s heart had grown very weak. To drive the jinn out completely, he recited even more intensely. In the end the jinn left. Like black smoke it broke through the window of the house and went. But as the jinn left, Selim’s eyes closed, his body shook violently, and then it went completely still. His breathing had stopped.

Hearing no sound, Bashir Molla put his hand near Selim’s nose, trembling with fear. His face had dried up completely and his body was cold. He understood that a great mistake had been made. In driving out the pishach jinn, he had recited ruqyah a little too long. A twenty-one or twenty-two-year-old young man with a weak heart could not survive it. Along with the jinn, Selim’s life had left too.

The Mob

Bashir Molla opened the door. His face was ghostly white and his eyes full of terror. Majid Mia sat down in despair. His wife ran inside and saw the lifeless body of their only son lying on the cot. Majid Mia’s wife cried out. That scream was so terrible that the whole village stopped still.

Majid Mia, with eyes of fire, looked at Bashir Molla and shouted, “You killed my son! You said you would save him! You are not a kabiraj, you are a murderer and a fraud!” Bashir Molla folded his hands and said in a tearful voice, “Majid bhai, I swear, a mistake was made. I tried to save your son. The jinn was very powerful. I made one mistake, forgive me.” But no word was entering Majid Mia’s ears then. He shouted like a madman, “You fraud, you killed my son!” Saying this, he shoved Bashir Molla hard to the ground. Then the neighbours and Majid Mia’s family set upon Bashir Molla and beat him without mercy. Someone with sticks, someone with hands and feet, someone with bricks and stones. Bashir Molla tried to protect his head, saying again and again, “Save me! I made a mistake, forgive me in the name of Allah.” But nobody listened to him. Under the blows he was gravely wounded, and the ground turned red with his blood.

As his life ebbed, he opened his eyes one last time and looked at Majid Mia. In a faint voice he said, “Majid, do not kill me, you will make a very great mistake. I tried to save your son. I am sorry your son died. But killing me is no solution. I have had a jinn with me for many years. If you kill me, it will be released, and then it will take revenge for me. My body must be buried on time, or else…” Before he could finish the sentence, his head fell to one side. Bashir Molla died.

Majid Mia then understood that in his anger he had made a very big mistake. He stood there trembling, with Bashir Molla’s blood on his hands. That night the villagers lifted Bashir Molla’s body on their shoulders and carried it away. But they did not know of his last wish. The imam of the village mosque told them to bury him in the ordinary way, and Bashir Molla was buried by the ordinary rites. But one day later, strange and terrible things began.

The Revenge

The people of the village who had beaten Bashir Molla so cruelly were first threatened by Bashir Molla in their dreams. Night after night they had dreams. Bashir Molla stood before them with a bloodied face, saying, “You killed me, and you will pay for it.” At first nobody took it seriously. Many laughed it off, some said a dream is only a dream. Some were frightened but told nobody. One day passed like this, two days, three days. Then the terrible revenge began.

The first to be struck was Hanif Mia. He had been the first to strike Bashir Molla’s head hardest with a stick. Three days after Bashir Molla’s death, at night, Hanif Mia screamed in his sleep. His wife woke up and saw black smoke coming from her husband’s mouth. Sitting up in bed with his hands on his head, Hanif Mia was screaming, “My head is bursting! Exactly the way I broke his head!” In the morning the people of the village saw that Hanif Mia’s skull had split, yet there was no sign of a wound anywhere on his body. He died in terrible agony.

The second was Roshid Sheikh. He had kicked Bashir Molla to the ground and trampled him. Seven days after Hanif’s death, at night, Roshid Sheikh was sitting in the yard of his house. Suddenly both his legs went numb. He began to scream, “My legs are breaking!” The next morning it was seen that the bones of both his legs had been crushed to powder, and his legs were bent in unnatural shapes. Calling a doctor did no good, and no cause was found. Within a few hours Roshid Sheikh died in unbearable agony.

The third was Karim Dewan. He had struck Bashir Molla in the chest and belly with a brick. Ten days after his death, one night Karim Dewan began to scream terribly from inside his house. People ran and saw that he was lying on the floor, his chest and belly swollen. Gasping, he said, “Something has gone inside my belly, it is crushing me.” The next day he was found with his chest bones broken, as if his inner organs had been crushed. Vomiting blood, he died.

The fourth was Jabbar. He was the cruellest. He had pinned Bashir Molla to the ground and pressed his foot on his face. Two weeks after Bashir Molla’s death, one night Jabbar was sleeping in his house. Suddenly an unseen someone put pressure on his throat. He was thrashing his hands and feet and screaming. Seeing this, his wife started shouting and crying. The neighbours all ran and saw Jabbar in this state. In the morning he died. The bones of his throat were broken and the marks of a hand on his neck were clear.

One after another, those who had beaten Bashir Molla that day were struck by inhuman agony. Some died with their heads split, some with bones crushed, some blind, some mad. The villagers understood that Bashir Molla’s pishach jinn was not only taking revenge, but taking its companion jinn with it and punishing the whole village. Of those who had raised a hand that day, none escaped. For about a month after Bashir Molla’s death, an ultimate curse hung over the village.

What happened to Majid Mia’s family and the villagers is beyond description. After these terrible deaths, the condition of Majid Mia’s wife began to change. When night fell she made strange sounds. Sometimes she laughed loudly, sometimes sobbed, sometimes a roar came from her throat as if a wild beast was calling. Her eyes turned red and foam came from her mouth. Tearing at her hair, she screamed, “Give me back my son! Give me back my son!” One night Majid Mia woke up and saw his wife sitting on the cot harming herself, her face smeared with blood and both her eyes completely black. She was saying, laughing, “Your son is gone, now it is your wife’s turn.” Majid Mia screamed. The neighbours ran and tried to hold his wife. But with unnatural strength she threw everyone off. In the end she had to be tied with rope.

But this was not all. The jinn that had come out of Selim’s body, the pishach jinn that had been with Bashir Molla for years, and their powerful companion pishach jinn joined together and began a rampage in the village. As soon as night fell, the village filled with a rotten smell. Deep in the night the cries of people could be heard. Terrible things happened in Majid Mia’s house every night. His wife slowly went mad. All day she sat on the floor, eyes red, foam at her mouth. Suddenly she would get up and harm herself. Two different kinds of voices came from her throat. She would shout, “Majid, save me!” Majid Mia’s condition became even more terrible. Suddenly deep wounds would appear on his body. Sometimes flesh would be torn from his back. Sometimes the bloodied face of his son Selim rose before his eyes. In dreams he was told, “We have taken your son, now we will take you.”

The terrible rampage was not only in Majid Mia’s family, it was throughout the whole village. Cattle and goats died overnight, their bodies torn open. One day the villagers saw a hijal tree with the bodies of three goats hanging from its branches. Their eyes were bulging, their mouths twisted, and the blood on their bodies had dried black. Seeing this, the villagers stopped coming out of their houses at night. The silence of the night was broken by screams, laughter and roars. The whole village sank into darkness. People began to say that Bashir Molla’s pishach jinn and Selim’s jinn had become one. They now wanted to finish the village. Majid Mia and his wife were still alive but were not normal. Day and night they wailed, laughed and roared like animals. Seeing them, the villagers moved away in fear.

The Villagers Ask Forgiveness

Then all the villagers gathered in fear and terror. All around there was only a shadow of terror and despair. Everyone began to say, “What is the solution now? It cannot go on like this, we have to do something.” At that time the imam of the village mosque gathered everyone and said, “Those who were directly involved in this brutal act have all died already. The wrath of Allah has come upon them. But those who are still alive should go at once to Bashir Molla’s family and ask forgiveness. Tell them, we made a mistake, in a fit of anger we killed an innocent man. Because of this mistake of ours the whole village is now in danger. Go, fall at their feet and ask forgiveness. Perhaps through this forgiveness Allah will send down some mercy upon us.”

Hearing the imam, those who were still alive and had beaten Bashir Molla that day stood with their heads bowed. In many eyes were tears mixed of remorse and fear.

After Bashir Molla’s death, his family’s condition had become very pitiable and heartbreaking. His wife, having seen the brutal murder of her husband, had completely broken down. For the first few days she could not speak, only sat silently in a corner of the house, tears streaming continuously from her eyes. Sometimes she would suddenly beat her chest and cry, “They killed my husband!” They had two sons and one daughter. The elder son taught at the village madrasa. After the husband’s death the whole family seemed to have sunk into darkness. On the other side, those who had in their mistake killed Bashir Molla so brutally slowly realised their mistake too. Especially when terrible incidents began one after another in the village, both remorse and fear arose in them.

The elders of the village and ordinary people gathered together and went to Bashir Molla’s house. They stood with their heads bowed before his wife and children. Many had tears in their eyes. One elder said in a trembling voice to Bashir Molla’s wife, “We have made a mistake. Bashir Molla had tried with all his might to save Selim. In our anger we did not recognise him. Because of our mistake the whole village is in terrible danger. We ask your forgiveness.” Then the wife wiped her tears and said calmly, “Bashir tried very hard to save Selim. But by Allah’s will it was not to be. Now he cannot be brought back. If you are truly repentant, then I forgive you all.”

That day Bashir Molla’s family forgave everyone in the village.

The Hujur of Nimtola

After this Bashir Molla’s wife herself said, “I know of a very God-fearing hujur (Islamic scholar) at Nimtola bazaar in Sirajdikhan. He has deep knowledge of supernatural matters. InshaAllah perhaps he can solve this problem.” Hearing this, the village elders and prominent people decided at once. A few of them met that hujur at Nimtola bazaar in Sirajdikhan. There they told him the whole story in detail: Bashir Molla’s death, the revenge of his pishach jinn, the brutal deaths of the villagers, the terrible condition of Majid Mia’s family, everything. They folded their hands and begged, “The shadow of death must be lifted from the village. Nobody but you can save us from this problem. Please help us.”

The hujur listened to them carefully. A shadow of deep thought appeared in his eyes. After being silent for a while he said, “I will go. But this is not the work of an ordinary jinn. Behind it there are very deep and powerful satanic forces at work.” He told everyone, “You stay safe at home. On that day, after dusk, all the men and women of the village must go into their houses and shut doors and windows. Nobody should come out without need. There is no problem, I am looking into the matter. Trust in Allah.” One day after this, the hujur reassured everyone, “You can rest easy, the problem has been solved.”

But what the hujur had actually done in this one day, how he solved this terrible problem so quickly, only the hujur himself knew. He told nobody any detail. But it was learned later that the hujur was a very God-fearing man. Humble in appearance, calm in nature, but always alert in the fear of Allah, a true wali. In his eyes there was a deep light, and seeing it would awaken respect in people. He spoke very little, but when he spoke, every word of his seemed full of Allah’s name. The hujur said only this much afterward, “I have some jinn who work with me. Through them this problem was solved.” How the jinn solved it, by what method they worked, the hujur did not say another word. He only said with a calm smile, “What I needed to know, I learned. What had to be done, has been done. Now give thanks to Allah.” This brief statement of his planted deep faith in the minds of the villagers. The hujur was no ordinary man, Allah had given him special powers that ordinary eyes cannot see. After the solution of this problem, the hujur, through ruqyah, brought Majid Mia and his wife back to normal life.

The title given to this story is “The Poisonous Jinn of the Village: The Revenge of Bashir Molla”. This was the story that I collected.