Jajar Village, Uttarakhand – Year 1830
The wind whistled through the dense oak trees surrounding the tiny village of Jajar. Nestled among the cold Himalayan foothills, the village slept under the thick blanket of a December night, unaware that something ancient stirred beneath its quiet surface.
In a modest stone house on the eastern edge of the village lived Bhairav Dutt, a revered Puchyari—a healer of spirits, known for exorcising the possessed and communing with forces no ordinary man dared to approach. He was a man of discipline, rituals, and silence. People from as far as five valleys away came seeking his help with hauntings and curses.
But tonight, he was not a healer.
Inside the house, all was still. His wife, Janki, lay fast asleep under a heavy quilt. The flickering glow of the dying fireplace cast long shadows on the mud walls. At exactly 1 AM, Bhairav's eyes opened like clockwork. He didn't stir immediately. He listened—heart steady, breath controlled.
Then, without a word, he rose.
Wearing only a thin cotton dhoti and a faded wool blanket, he walked barefoot into his sacred room. A faint smell of incense and sandalwood lingered there. He knelt before a locked wooden box and opened it with care.
Inside was his sacred weapon — a bangle made of copper etched with mantras — and a packet of white ash from the pyres of Kedarnath. He picked up both and tied the bangle to his wrist, whispering,
"Om Pretatma Raksha."
Then he grabbed an old brass lantern, lit it, and stepped out into the frostbitten night.
As Bhairav descended the narrow dirt path toward the fields, the cold bit into his skin. Yet he didn't flinch. He walked with purpose, chanting under his breath,
"Om Namah Shivaya..."
The sound echoed off the silent mountains.
When he reached his farmland — a small patch cut from the edge of the forest — he placed the lantern on a rock. Then, with the sacred ash, he drew a wide circle around him and sat cross-legged inside it.
He took a deep breath and began to chant:
"Pretam... Masana... Avahanam..."
"Pretam... Masana... Avahanam..."
"Pretam... Masana... Avahanam..."
The third time, the wind screamed.
It tore through the trees like a dying wail. Shadows moved. The mist thickened.
And then... they came.
Nine masans—ghosts, spirits, creatures of death—emerged from the darkness like smoke turned solid. Their bodies were lean, they looks like an ill human bodies with no expression . They didn't speak. They simply waited.
Bhairav didn't look afraid.
He pointed toward the fields and whispered,
"Work. Till the soil. Gather firewood. Go."
The spirits obeyed without a sound and began their silent labor.
Back in the house, Janki stirred.
She turned to feel for her husband but found his side of the bed cold. She frowned, half-asleep, and muttered to herself,
"He's gone again. Must be with Raju..."
Bhairav's friend Raju was a familiar figure in the village — a quiet man, always helping with the fields. That's what Bhairav told everyone. That Raju helped him work at night when there was too much to do.
And everyone believed it.
Two hours passed.
Two hours passed.
Bhairav glanced at the sky—dawn was still far, but the air had shifted.
"It's time," he muttered under his breath. "If they linger any longer, someone might see them… and then everything will fall apart."
He raised his hand, voice low but commanding.
"Atma, Nivartanam... Atmavimukti... Shantih..."
One by one, the ghosts vanished into the mist like they were never there.
He picked up his lantern and walked home.
At dawn, Janki and her daughter-in-law Geeta went to check the fields. What they saw made them stop dead in their tracks.
Rows of soil had been perfectly tilled. Wood was stacked neatly at the edge of the land.
It looked like three full days of labor had been done overnight.
Geeta's eyes widened.
"How is this even possible?"
Janki smiled, brushing off her shock.
"Your father-in-law must have done this with Raju. He's been helping him lately."
Geeta frowned. She had never actually seen Raju. Only heard about him.
That evening, Geeta approached Bhairav while he sat by the fire sipping tea.
"Baba, can I come help next time? You do so much work. Maybe I can carry water or tools."
Bhairav's face darkened instantly. He didn't even look at her.
"No. Never follow me at night. Never leave the house after midnight. Understood?"
His voice was low but sharp as a blade.
Geeta hesitated, nodding slowly.
"Okay... I understand."
But in truth, she didn't. And worse, she couldn't stop her growing curiosity.
Two nights later.
The wind howled outside like a dying wolf.
Geeta lay awake in her bed. The house was dark, silent. Then, she heard footsteps creaking on the wooden floor below.
She got up quietly.
Tiptoeing to the window, she peeked out—and saw Bhairav walking into the night with the same lantern in hand.
Her heart pounded.
"Just for a moment," she told herself. "I'll just follow from a distance and see his work once."
She wrapped a shawl around herself and stepped outside.
She followed him down the narrow path, careful to keep her distance, hiding behind trees and rocks.
Then she saw it.
Bhairav was sitting on the large rock at the edge of the fields... and surrounding him were nine terrifying figures. Shadowy. Moving unnaturally. Heads bowed.
They were unlike humans.
Her blood froze.
"What... what is this...?" she whispered.
But then, one of the figures turned. Slowly.
It walked toward the mango tree where she hid. It stopped just ten meters away. Its voice was like sand scraping against bone:
"I'm very hungry... Can I eat some mangoes from your tree?"
Geeta blinked. The voice was human. Soft even. Maybe this was Raju?
She smiled nervously.
"Yes... sure."
That was her last word.
In a blink, the creature leapt toward her, claws extended.
Her scream never escaped her throat.
the ghost ripped off his soul and ate it.
then he moved to the fields again like nothing ever happened.
Back at the house, Devendra, her husband, woke with a jolt.
Something was wrong.
He ran outside barefoot, heart pounding. He heard something in the fields — a rustle, a breath, a whisper.
Then he saw her.
"GEETA!!" he screamed, falling to his knees beside her lifeless body. Her face was pale, eyes frozen open in terror.
He held her, shaking her shoulders.
"Geeta... please... wake up...!"
Nothing.
He wailed into the cold night.
Bhairav heard the scream.
His eyes shot open.
"No..." he whispered.
He stood up in panic and stepped out of the ritual circle—breaking the protection.
He forgot to send the ghosts back.
And in that instant, the bond shattered.
The masans were no longer bound.
One by one, they turned their heads toward him. And smiled , and then with a blow of wind they disappeared in the mist.
Now, they were free.