Real Supernatural Stories: Forbidden Island of Andaman, Part 2

This is Part 2 of the real supernatural stories Sabbirji brought back from the Andaman Islands. In Part 1, Gulam Nabi told him how his father was carried off on a jungle road by a van full of corpses. Part 2 begins on that van.

The Van Driver’s Secret

“Just then the van driver gave a sudden cackle. ‘Well, does it smell?’ There was nothing natural in his voice, as if he had not used human speech for so long that the words came out broken. ‘That corpse is the son of Abbas from the next island. He drank poison. Marital trouble. He died two days ago, and today I dug him up from the grave and brought him.’ As he spoke he braked, and the body shifted a little. Something seemed to tear inside my father’s chest. ‘And that one is Ramaiya of the fishermen’s colony. Dead four days, a dried-up corpse.’ There was a strange pride in the driver’s voice. ‘And the one I just killed was a maulana.’

“At that word, the hair on my father’s body stood up. The driver went on. ‘One day he was coming back from the market. On the road, a pack of devil jinn, ten or eleven of them, was killing a man. He saw it. After that he never came out at night. News spread everywhere that devil jinn eat corpses. That made my master angry. So I’m taking this one.’

“These words went into my father’s head like knives, one after another. He understood that this was not a man, and not fully a jinn either. Something in between. The van started again. As it turned off to the left of the road, my father clearly heard something heavy moving in the tree branches. Not only moving. Scraping, like someone tearing bark with nails. The van stopped in front of the huge tree, the same tree under which he had once seen the van with the corpse. He saw that the trunk was streaked with black, dried blood, very old. The driver got down and began to unload the bodies one after another. And right then the shapes began to climb down the tree. Their eyes glowed in the dark with a mirror-like stare. What a celebration it was! My father shut his eyes and shook. Anyone who had seen this would have gone mad.

“Suddenly one shape came forward. It was very close to my father, so close that it began to sniff his body. His breath stopped. Just then the van driver roared, ‘Hey, hey, hey, not that one now!’ The shape backed away growling. But another leapt from behind and sat on my father’s back. My father could not think. His body seemed to have stopped working on its own. With one jerk he tipped sideways off the van onto the ground, and the moment he was up, he was on his feet and running for his life. He did not hear what was happening behind him, who was calling, who was laughing. He only knew that staying meant certain death. The jungle seemed to want to swallow him, and my father ran for his life. He could not look back for even a moment. Behind him came the shrill horn of the van and now and then the call of some unknown animal. His body was only running, and his mind had no sense left in it. The driver’s voice still floated faintly after him, like a sound caught in the air. Every word pierced his body. My father ran, but his heart seemed to slow and the soles of his feet felt heavy as stone. Still he could not stop. Only one thing kept coming to him: I have to live.

“When he threw himself into the boat, he found a little peace. The rocking of the boat, the sound of the water and the light wind seemed the only way to bring his senses back. But his body was still trembling. As he headed home in the boat, his strength suddenly gave out. At last he reached the house and collapsed in the yard, unconscious. At the sound of him falling, the whole family came out, and they were stunned to find him senseless.”

The Hujur and the Bundle

“In the morning, when he came to his senses, my father told everything. Hearing it, my grandmother and my uncles were astonished. They said he should go to our village in Baharampur for a while. But my father refused. He knew that here his business, his land, even the fingers of his rivals, would all be at risk. My mother advised, ‘Enmity against you is growing day by day because of your land business. Maybe someone has done something. First go and see an alim, a hujur, a kabiraj.’

“On my mother’s advice, my father went to a hujur (Islamic scholar). The hujur told him to be ready two days later. On the fixed day, the hujur took my father to a neighbouring island where he had bought land for development. There the hujur dug up the earth and took out a small bundle. It looked ordinary, but when you touched it, it felt as if some strange power was squirming inside. The hujur said, ‘Evil jinn have been sent against you from a distant forbidden island to kill you, and their chief is Alwar. Be careful. There are good jinn and bad jinn. They are imprisoned in this bundle. Recite a special surah and float it on the water of the creek. You will see, there will be no more trouble. But do not go out alone at night. It will take time to clear this fault.’ It was, in effect, a black magic removal.

“My father followed the hujur’s words and slowly floated the bundle on the creek. It drifted away on the current. But my father’s mind was still not at rest.”

Gulam Sahib stopped there and poured a glass of water from a jug beside him. Sabbirji felt a strange heaviness settle over him, like a trance. He came back to himself when Gulam Sahib called him. “What happened next?” he asked.

Gulam Sahib went on slowly, with fear and curiosity mixed together in his voice. “For two months there was no trouble. Everything seemed fine. But one night after dinner, my father went out of the house. And then came a terrible scene that we will never forget in our lives. There was no electricity then. In a very short time there was a terrible scream. My mother ran out with a kerosene lamp, saw the sight, screamed and fainted. We all rushed out in terror. That night was like a monstrous dream made of darkness. In the faint light we could see that my father’s arms had been wrenched from their sockets. His legs were gone. Blood gushed out. He was screaming in agony. Beside him my mother lay unconscious, her breath stuck. The air, thick with fear and the smell of blood, felt unspeakable. As I came out of the room, I saw in the dark the shadow of some giant body melting into the darkness, with the sound of the van’s wheels, as if it were bringing a message of death. My father could remember nothing more. We could not save him.

“When I grew up, I heard all these details from my mother. Every word pours an invisible fear into the mind. It feels as if the blood of that night and the evil sound of that van still drift in the air. The union of terror, unknown power and the sign of death has stayed on our family like a permanent mark.”

Sabbirji’s mind was now completely unsettled. The name of the chief, Alwar, kept ringing in his head, like an invisible ring slowly breaking the circle of his thoughts. Everything he had seen in these two days in the Andamans had gone beyond every limit of reason. Before his eyes floated the terrifying sight of the corpses, the blood on the van, the groans of the shadow beings in the trees. He tried to convince himself that none of this could be real. But every breath bit into his brain with strange force. Suddenly the hujur’s words came back to him: evil jinn have been sent, and their chief is Alwar. This name was not just a word. It was like ice descending from the sky, freezing everything it touched. He understood that this danger was no accident. It was planned, and it was spreading fear at every moment.

Even with all this unrest in him, he asked, “Is the sad story of your father connected with the problems you have now?” For a while Gulam Sahib stayed silent. The light in the room was trembling strangely. There was no wind, yet the flame shook. In a dry voice he said, “What can I say, brother? There is a link, and there isn’t. But whatever I think will happen seems to come and stand before me a little later.” He lowered his eyes. It felt as if he was not speaking but opening some dark chamber of memory.

The Black Man in Gulam’s Room

“It was just last Ramadan. Deep night, not yet time for sehri. Suddenly, in my sleep, a restlessness began. Pressure in my chest, I couldn’t breathe properly. And a sound near my ear. At first I didn’t understand. Later I realised it was an ambulance siren. Very close, as if the ambulance was standing at the mouth of our lane. Someone was calling me.”

His voice suddenly turned heavy. “Someone called my name.” Gulam Sahib said the call was not like a dream, and it was not real either. The sound seemed to strike directly on his eardrum. He jerked awake. When he opened his eyes, he saw a man standing in one corner of the room. Black, but not a shadow. His whole body seemed black. He wore a nurse-like uniform with a cap on his head. The man was smiling, but inside his mouth nothing could be seen. Between his lips there was only darkness.

Gulam Sahib’s voice shook. “I felt that I knew the man, knew him very well. But I couldn’t think where I’d seen him. Just then the man came forward. So close that I could smell his breath. It was not a human’s breath. It smelled of rotten iron. He whispered, ‘Right now your body will fall over.’ The moment I heard it, a seizure began. A seizure like I had never had before. My hands and body were out of my control. Everything blurred before my eyes. I fell off the bed, shaking. And right then I suddenly remembered that night many years ago, the night my father died. They had put my father in an ambulance. There was so much blood. And the same nurse was there then, in the black uniform. The same hideous face. This was the man, brother. This was that very man.

“After that I couldn’t say anything. I only stared at the black man. He raised a finger toward the door and said, ‘Wait, I’m coming from downstairs.’ A few moments later there was a heavy sound, the scrape of metal wheels. A stretcher. The man had brought a stretcher. And the strange thing is, our watchman was with him, as if it was all perfectly normal. The watchman was saying, ‘Hurry, get him into the vehicle, there is little time.’ I wanted to speak, I wanted to scream, but my lips felt sealed. My body was stone. They lifted me up and put me on the stretcher. As they were taking me into the ambulance, I tilted my head a little and saw my son going downstairs. I still cannot forget his face.

“Inside the ambulance, that man was sitting. He saw me and smiled. He took a torn piece of paper out of his pocket. Looking at it, he was annoyed for a moment, and he said to the driver, ‘Hey, Gulam was not supposed to be up today.’ The ambulance moved. The darkness rushed past the window. Just then, someone began banging on the back door by my feet. They were speaking in some unknown language. I don’t know when I fell asleep.”

Gulam Sahib stopped. The room was silent. He only said, “Brother, it wasn’t a dream. Because the next day I opened my eyes in a hospital bed, and the mark of the stretcher is still on my wrist. As soon as I came to, I told everyone what had happened to me. But nobody took it very seriously. They felt my stress was rising and that I was thinking such things because of weakness. But as time went on, the face of that black man kept coming back before my eyes. On sleepless nights he comes again and again. He brings the stretcher, puts me in the ambulance, as if it is all a normal event. The details of that night are blurry, but the physical fear, the mental torment and the feeling of defeat came together and made a strange supernatural rhythm. I see the figures again and again, sometimes behind me, sometimes leaping at me from above.”

Read more: [LINK: Real Supernatural Stories: Forbidden Island of Andaman, Part 1]

The Shadow in Port Blair

Sabbirji heard everything, comforted him, and went back to his hotel for the day. At night he called Ziauddin Sahib. A whole bundle of questions was spinning in his mind. This information, this terrible event, this black shadow, the chief named Alwar, why were they watching the Humayun family in particular? The omen he had seen in the dream on the ship was now clear. And over these two days, the dim threads of everything that had happened were slowly clearing. Even so, when Ziauddin Sahib came, Sabbirji asked, “Is everything tied to one thread?”

Ziauddin Sahib answered, “Pishach, all these are one form of jinn. And Alwar is a wicked, base chief of the jinn kind. Rabeya Bibi told you earlier. But why this family has come under its eye for so many years, and why these things have happened in these two days, I still cannot understand. Be careful. Let me see where the thread is.” With that he left.

For four days in a row Ziauddin Sahib searched, but could not find the root of the problem. The old events of Humayun Sahib and the invisible attack still going on against Gulam Sahib seemed tied to the same thread of darkness. But where the thread had knotted, nobody could see. This uncertainty sat on Sabbirji’s chest like a heavy stone. Beyond logic, he felt that the answer lay on that forbidden island.

Before going to Humayun Sahib’s house, something had happened to Sabbirji that seemed trivial at first but slowly turned terrible. Perhaps from that moment the gaze of the unseen power had fallen on him. That day he was walking toward his hotel. The road behind him was silent. Only the light of a distant lamp post glowed ahead. A day had passed since he reached the Andamans, but from that very first day he had felt a strange pressure in his head. It was a few minutes before nine at night. Suddenly he heard a rasping, throat-clearing sound somewhere ahead on the road. The weather was fearsome. A light mist drifted in the air. The leaves on the jungle path trembled, as if some invisible monster was grinding them under its feet as it walked.

Sabbirji looked back. Someone was standing behind the corner of the road. The shadow was not quite human, but more like a monster. In all his years of experience, Sabbirji could tell this was no ordinary creature. It was a devil’s form. He took a long breath and steadied his mind. He kept walking in his own way. A few steps on, the shadow called out again in a harsh voice. “Stop.” Sabbirji stopped and said, “Who is it?” But the reply came low and harsh. The suddenness made Sabbirji start. This was the very guard jinn he had seen in the dream on the ship. His chest shook, but he kept a firm look on his face and asked, “Who are you? What have you come for?” The shadow said in a harsh voice, “To take you.” It stretched a hand toward Sabbirji. Sabbirji reacted and tried to push it away, but the push did not land. Instead the shadow shoved him and knocked him down. It began dragging him along by the hair. The prayer beads slipped from his fingers and fell several arm-lengths away on the road. Somehow he picked them up and began to recite a surah. The shadow came forward again. The beads flew from his hand once more. Sabbirji noticed that some strange substance was dripping from the shadow’s hand.

He asked, “Who are you? Why are you after me?” The shadow said, “We have an order to take you to our island.” Sabbirji stood firm. There were tears in his eyes, but a stubborn determination on his face. He did not flinch. He raised the beads and started to recite something. But he was knocked back again. Stunned, his breath was catching. At last he somehow pushed the thing away and began to move forward. Behind him the harsh voice kept coming. Sabbirji went on, reciting dua. He noticed that the shadow’s shape was changing, taking different forms. By the power of the beads and the effect of the surah, it stayed some distance away. His heartbeat grew faster and faster. After a few moments the shadow asked again, “How far will you go?” At last Sabbirji slowly made his way down the dark road toward the hotel. Tears in his eyes, a thrill in his body, a strange fear in his mind. That is how his first confrontation with the shadow guard, the devil jinn, ended on his first night in the Andamans.

Back at the hotel, his body had still not returned to normal. He felt an invisible weight pressing on his chest. He closed the door and, without delay, called Ziauddin Sahib. After a little while the light in the room seemed to dim and the air grew heavy. Sabbirji knew he had arrived. Ziauddin Sahib appeared silently, took Sabbirji’s right hand, and stayed quiet for a while. His eyes were closed, his brow furrowed. It seemed he was trying to see something through the veins and nerves of that hand.

“The entity that has come has limited power here. This is not its full field. But on the forbidden island its power is fearsome,” said Ziauddin Sahib. A cold current ran down Sabbirji’s spine. “I don’t feel good about this, Sabbir. Something very bad could happen. Some kind of impossible attack on you.” After a pause he added, “When they turn furious without a reason, you have to understand that you have unknowingly touched something that has ruined the calculations of many years.” “But I haven’t done anything,” said Sabbirji. Ziauddin Sahib looked at him. “Often not doing is the biggest crime. For now, stay careful. You need protection.”

Suddenly remembering something, he said, “Since you saw Rabeya Bibi in your dream, don’t take it lightly. If she came herself in a dream, it means the situation is very serious. Call her. Ask her to create a protective circle, one that the devil jinn cannot easily break.” As he said this, a kind of helplessness appeared on Ziauddin Sahib’s face, something Sabbirji had never seen before. In an anxious voice, Sabbirji asked, “But what have I done? Who are these?” Ziauddin Sahib sighed. “I don’t fully understand it myself yet. Do what I have said. I am looking for the thread.”

Sabbirji sensed that this was only the beginning. The room was silent. The hotel clock said a quarter past four. From the sea outside came a steady deep roar, as if the darkness itself was breathing. Twenty minutes before the Fajr adhan, Sabbirji sat on the floor and closed his eyes. A strange pressure sat in his chest, and one name kept circling in his head: Rabeya Bibi. Slowly he took the prayer beads in his hand. Then he spoke a few names. A light, cold current was moving across the floor. Darkness was thickening naturally in the corner of the room, as if the light was afraid to reach it. The curtain moved, though there was no wind outside. Sabbirji’s eyelids trembled. He did not open his eyes. Suddenly a very low woman’s voice reached his ear. “Assalamu alaikum. How are you, Sabbir? Why did you call?” There was no echo in that voice, and no anger. Instead there was a cold firmness, the kind you could tell from hearing it that she was afraid of no one.

Sabbirji opened his eyes. In the middle of the room, floating just above the floor, was a middle-aged woman. A black sari, a black hijab. Half her face was covered in shadow, but her eyes were clear, unnaturally bright yet sorrowful. Exactly as he had seen her in the dream, Rabeya Bibi. She was neither standing nor sitting. Sabbirji tried to get up but could not. His knees felt stuck to the floor. The nightmare on the ship, the attack of the guard jinn, the encounter on the hotel road and Ziauddin Sahib’s warning, he hid nothing. His throat was going dry as he spoke, but he did not stop.

After hearing everything, Rabeya Bibi slowly came closer. She held Sabbirji’s right hand for a while. At her touch his body suddenly shook. The hand felt as if it had been dipped in ice. Rabeya Bibi kept her eyes open. After some silence she said gravely, “The way you fought that guard jinn was not right.” She paused. The air around them grew heavy. “I do not know very clearly either. I only understand that he is very old. And, as I see it, Alwar is not just the chief of the devil jinn. He is the name of an ancient greed. He cannot tolerate human interference. But I was the one who interfered.” Sabbirji said, “Did you? I don’t know.” As he said it, a shadow on the wall of the room seemed to move. “They are circling around you. Guards, middlemen, all of them. According to your description of the dream, this is a forbidden island.” Sabbirji’s body shook. In an anxious voice Rabeya Bibi said, “Why I tried to stop you in the dream, I still do not understand. But one thing is clear. Your going there is dangerous.” She raised her eyes to Sabbirji. “Now that it is not clear, he is after you. Staying careful is essential. I am by your side.” After a little more conversation, she vanished.

Ten Minutes on the Forbidden Island

Four days after he returned from Gulam Sahib’s house and told Ziauddin Sahib everything, Sabbirji still could not connect the clues. But the devil had perhaps understood the real reason for his coming to the Andamans. Four days after returning from Humayun Sahib’s house, in the evening, Sabbirji, Ziauddin Sahib and Rabeya Bibi sat together. The wind from the sea outside carried the taste of salt and the smell of rotting weed. Sabbirji was looking toward the window. For no reason, he felt that someone was watching from a distance and not taking their eyes away. At that moment the decision became firm. Not for personal reasons, but because a pull was calling him there. Despite the warnings of Ziauddin Sahib and Rabeya Bibi, Sabbirji’s resolve was fixed: he had to go to the forbidden island.

When he raised it with Ziauddin Sahib and Rabeya Bibi, they both said no at once. At the words, something flickered in Rabeya Bibi’s eyes. Ziauddin Sahib slowly stopped turning his prayer beads. A few moments of silence. “You do not know what you are asking for. That is no ordinary place.” Sabbirji was stubborn. “They are trying to frighten me.” Rabeya Bibi came close and said very softly, “The moment you set foot on that island, the rules change, Sabbir. No people live there. If you stay more than ten minutes, they will recognise your soul.”

After a long argument, Ziauddin Sahib finally agreed, but he set a condition: ten minutes, not one second more. If nothing happened, he was to come back at once. Sabbirji agreed.

I should make one thing clear. Nobody should think Sabbirji went to the famous Sentinel forbidden island. No. Sabbirji went to a forbidden island whose name most people do not know. It is on the map, but the people of that area do not say its name aloud, because many who went did not come back. The island is not completely forbidden either. Some appointed people go there for government work for fixed periods. Gulam Sahib was an established man in the Andamans at the time, and his standing and influence got Sabbirji the necessary permission. Everything happened very quickly. Gulam Sahib himself arranged a small boat and a boatman. The boatman was not old, but his eyes were unnaturally tired, as if he had not slept for a long time. When Sabbirji met his eyes, he understood at once that this man knew what fear was, and that it was not fear from stories but fear he had seen.

Now someone will ask how Sabbirji recognised which island was the forbidden one. The answer lay in his dream. When he went to see the place where the devil van driver had frightened Humayun Sahib on his way back from the market, Sabbirji got down from the boat on the creek’s sandbar and saw a small jungle-ringed island in the distance. That was the island from his dream.

They set off that afternoon. The sun had slipped low. A red glow lay at the corner of the sky, with a silver moon peeping at the other. The little island across the creek looked strangely beautiful. But inside that beauty, something seemed wrong. As Sabbirji moved toward the boat, Rabeya Bibi’s words came back to him: “Remember, you will find no place to set your feet. Everywhere the devil’s pack is crawling.” As soon as he got into the boat, the boatman said, “Sir, I’m telling you, nobody goes there. Those who go do not return.” Sabbirji said calmly, “I know.” The boatman could not hold himself back. In a trembling voice he said, “You don’t want to understand, sir. There is something there beyond what a person can think. The island is not forbidden for government reasons alone. I heard from my grandfather that there are man-eating devils there as well. If you want to go within their reach, you know what will happen. If a hungry lion waits too long for prey…” As he said this, everything around went silent, as if the jungle, the birds and the water were listening.

Sabbirji said sternly, “Gulam Sahib chose you thinking you were reliable. Your duty is to take me there. Don’t talk more, we are getting late.” The boatman said no more. He started the engine. The boat moved forward, cutting through the clear still water of the creek. The nearer the island came, the heavier the air grew. A stifled smell hung in it.

Before stopping the boat, the boatman said one last time, “Sir, you did not listen to a word I said. Please keep one thing. I have promised Gulam sir that I will bring you back safely. So please finish your work quickly and come back here.” Sabbirji said nothing. Just then, from deep inside the jungle, someone laughed an ugly laugh. The ten-minute countdown had begun. Sabbirji looked once at the boatman, gave a nod, and slowly went deeper into the island.

The trees were so dense that the moonlight could not reach the ground. With every step came the sound of dry leaves crunching, but the sound never seemed to reach his ears. As he walked, a cold feeling suddenly went through his chest. It felt as if someone was watching him. He stopped and looked around. Nothing. Only trees, creepers and strange shadows. Suddenly a strange noise came from overhead. And just then, an ambulance siren. In an instant the whole jungle seemed to shudder. Dazzling headlights. The prayer beads in his pocket began to burn, unnaturally hot. One question in Sabbirji’s mind: where does an ambulance come from here? He had no time to think. When he saw the face of the man sitting in the driver’s seat, his chest shook. This face, this twisted smile, this was that very devil! The man was looking at him with his neck turned through the ambulance window.

Just then, from far away, came the boatman’s shaking voice. “Sir, run!” Without a moment’s delay Sabbirji ran. Behind him the ambulance started up. It was chasing him through the jungle. The headlight beams were falling on his back. As he ran, Sabbirji suddenly heard a rustling ahead at the bend. He started and looked. It was the boatman. The boatman’s eyes were red, his face full of terror. He pointed. “Sir, this way!” Sabbirji ran. But after a few steps there was a sharp twist in his stomach, as if something inside was being torn. As he reached the bank of the creek, an unseen force struck him hard in the belly. He was thrown down.

When he opened his eyes, the first thing he felt was pain. His stomach was burning as if with fire. Breathing was hard. His head was spinning. When the pain eased a little, the sounds around him came back. From the jungle came countless animal and bird calls, but they were not natural. Suddenly from behind came the sound of blows. When he turned his neck and saw what was there, the blood in his chest turned cold. Someone was beating the boatman! He rubbed his eyes and looked again. No, he was not mistaken. The one beating him was none other than the guard jinn, the same being who had driven the chasing ambulance. When the devil’s eyes met his, it cried out in a harsh voice, “Didn’t I say you would come?”

Sabbirji watched. The sharp pain in his stomach kept him from moving. The prayer beads were in his pocket, but he could not lift his hand. Just then there was a rush, a cold touch. Rabeya Bibi! Without a moment’s delay she shoved Sabbirji and threw him into the creek. The cold water went into his lungs, and darkness covered his eyes. After a few seconds, when he was pulled out of the water, he saw the guard jinn killing the boatman mercilessly. There was nothing Sabbirji could do. He could only look on, like a coward. When he looked toward the creek, the boat had floated up again. The guard jinn and his companions stood around. There was no place to flee, no ground, no path. In a shaking voice, Sabbirji began to recite Ayatul Kursi aloud. And far away, somewhere deep in the unseen darkness, the presence of Alwar was becoming clear.

As Sabbirji recited Ayatul Kursi, strange waves began to rise on the water of the creek. The water was no longer water. That darkness, that breath, that silence. There was no sound at all. Ziauddin Sahib’s words came back to him: “The day the island itself breathes, you will know the time is up.” Now the forbidden island was breathing. The shadows around were still. The animals and the night birds’ cries had vanished in a moment. It felt as if someone with an unseen hand was slowly drawing his soul out. There was a fire-like pain in his stomach. Countless scenes floated before his eyes: strangers’ deaths, moments of betrayal.

“He is coming!” The guard jinn suddenly whispered. In its voice there was fear, and not only fear, but devotion. The creek water suddenly receded. In Sabbirji’s head Ziauddin Sahib’s voice came again, no longer a warning, but “His presence means the death of time.” Suddenly the wind began to blow the other way. The jungle swayed. Branches broke and fell. The shadows fell to the ground and bowed. And just then Sabbirji felt it, someone was right behind him. No sound of breathing, no shadow. Only a presence of impossible weight.

That unseen presence behind him slowly began to take form. Like a black shadow, yet spreading a strange power in layer after layer around it. The air was heavy. Sabbirji’s chest burned. Not like the earlier pain. This time it touched a deep layer of his soul. It felt as if someone was pulling out every part of his soul. Alwar began to reveal himself. Breaking the cover of shadow, his full form appeared. Laughter, weeping, hatred, greed, the shadow of revenge, all together. At that moment, with great effort, Sabbirji began to recite a special surah. Meanwhile Rabeya Bibi stood around him creating a circle to help him.

Sabbirji saw that Humayun Sahib, as a young man, had tried to increase his wealth in business. And at that time a bundle buried underground, a chain curse made with the help of black magic. Its aim was not only to kill Humayun Sahib, but to seize the wealth, confuse the family, and set up betrayal. The secret scene appeared before his eyes. Sabbirji understood who had sent the bundle, and who had taken Alwar from this forbidden island. In reality, the planner had been someone from Humayun Sahib’s own family, a relative, a business partner. Another scene rose before Sabbirji’s eyes. Even after Humayun Sahib floated the bundle on the creek on the hujur’s instruction, the black magic had not left. That relative brought it back. It was at that time that Humayun Sahib died, as Sabbirji had already heard. Sabbirji understood that the jinn who served this devil were in truth Alwar’s guards, and that their real nature was low, hellish and supernatural. He felt why Alwar had been drawing him. Everything had been prepared. Alwar knew that if Sabbirji stood firm, the cycle of history would break. And if he stepped back, full control would pass into Alwar’s hands.

Again before Sabbirji’s eyes rose a business deal, a moment of betrayal, a plot to confuse the family. Now everything was under Alwar’s control. The guard jinn was melting into his shadow. Everything, the waves of the sea, the shadows of the jungle, the sound of the wind, was within his power. His body shook, his breath was stopping. Alwar was pulling him directly. Sabbirji’s heartbeat was racing. But astonishingly, Rabeya Bibi recited a surah, raised her right hand, and drew something zigzag in the air with her finger, and the shadows were pushed back. A bright beam of light was now forming a spinning circle around Alwar’s body. Ziauddin Sahib had arrived by then. Sabbirji too clenched the prayer beads and began to recite the surah. The moment the echo of the surah entered Alwar’s ears, every corner of his body began to quake. The combined power of the three made Rabeya Bibi’s circle stronger.

Ziauddin Sahib suddenly turned his prayer beads, stepped out of the circle, and sprinkled water from the Zamzam well around Alwar. Sabbirji once again clenched his beads and merged himself with the circle and the power. Alwar was screaming and attacking. Rabeya Bibi kept the harmony of power with wind, water and earth. Ziauddin Sahib’s eyes were closed. Meanwhile, on Ziauddin Sahib’s instruction, Sabbirji slipped away from the eyes of Alwar and the shadow guards, took a special bottle, and quietly set off down the jungle path. The muffled roar from the creek bank now showed Alwar’s presence directly. Sometimes visible, sometimes air, water, earth.

Just then Sabbirji heard Gulam Sahib’s scream and turned back. What he saw, he was not prepared for. He saw that Gulam Sahib was being dragged over the sand by Alwar’s guard, the ambulance nurse jinn. Alwar had gathered himself into a terrible assault. Sabbirji flared with rage: Gulam Sahib had to be saved! Suddenly Ziauddin Sahib’s warning came. “No, Sabbir, no! The devil has started his game of illusion. Quickly, destroy the circle.” Sabbirji came back to his senses. Before coming here, as planned, Rabeya Bibi had already made a protective circle for Gulam Sahib’s safety. Sabbirji set out again along the jungle path. The wounds of thorn bushes. Still nothing could hold him back.

Alwar was now being caught in full form. His body was long, distorted. He was looking directly at Sabbirji. Sabbirji understood that it was not enough to hold Alwar. He had to be imprisoned for good. From near the sandbar Rabeya Bibi shouted, “Gather all your strength, Sabbir!” Alwar was screaming and attacking. With every blow Rabeya Bibi’s circle weakened. The jungle was no longer a jungle. It was a living monster. As Sabbirji reached an odd circle of stones, the earth shook. The symbols carved in the middle of the circle were glowing and throbbing. Just then the nurse-like devil burst out of the bushes. He did not step back. A blow fell, blood flowed. His breath stopped. Darkness around Sabbirji. It felt as if his very soul was being torn out of his chest. At that moment Ziauddin Sahib hurled a stream of Zamzam water and attar, and Rabeya Bibi, with shaking hands and the last of her strength, pulled the line of the circle tight. Sabbirji clenched his teeth and struck the circle. The stone cracked, and the symbols went out. With a terrible scream, Alwar broke apart into shattered power.

In that instant Sabbirji opened the special bottle and poured that fleeing black force into it. He closed the lid. Everything stopped. The air was heavy, but no longer hostile. Just then the bottle shook. Inside, a muffled roar was still going. Ziauddin Sahib dug the earth and buried the bottle at the centre of that circle. Sabbirji let a drop of his own blood, which was running from his shoulder, fall there. The island shook. Then slowly, everything went calm. The forbidden island had swallowed Alwar forever.

But nobody had won, and nobody had lost. When the boat left the creek, the island was only a shadow of darkness behind them. Nobody cheered. And in the middle of all this, as if for no reason, the boatman had been sacrificed. Sabbirji only stared blankly toward the forbidden island. There was an emptiness in his chest. He had gotten what he wanted, even so. This was not only a wound. It was a silent bond. Ziauddin Sahib kept turning his prayer beads, reciting a surah. “But a war does not end only with winning, Sabbir,” he said. Sabbirji said nothing.

Gulam Sahib’s family is now completely free of black magic and of Alwar. After a few more days there, Sabbirji came back. No, not by ship this time, but by plane.