In the corner of night, a streak of light slowly appeared—the gentle glow of dawn. With a calm yet resolute spirit, the environment unveiled its essence. In the soft breeze, bamboo leaves rustled, and the high branches of the banyan tree swayed in a gentle rhythm.
In the flower garden adjacent to Ruhan's house, roses danced with vibrant grace. Attracted by their fragrance, butterflies and bees drifted towards the flowers.
Bhola, the country's largest delta—vast in expanse—is situated right on the edge of the Bay of Bengal; its land is flat. Once renowned for agriculture and livestock farming, its face has changed today, transforming into a terrifying and bloody battlefield. Here, the goal of every clan is to seize large territories, and their ambitions know no end.
Of the district's four sub-districts, Ruhan resides in 'Bhola Sadar' sub-district. This sub-district contains several villages, each built around a specific clan.
"Ruhan! Young Master Ruhan! Wake up quickly. It's morning. Besides, we have to leave today."
The voice, insistent yet muffled, pierced Ruhan's deep slumber. The nightmare of the previous night had deeply terrified him; he had woken several times in fear, lacking the courage to go to the washroom in the dark when nature called. Now, a soft light seemed to fall on his eyes in his sleep, painting his dreams in a dazzling white. The voice came again, closer this time.
Ruhan slowly opened his eyes, the lingering haze of sleep still clinging to them. Two sweet, bright orbs seemed to float before him, three-quarters shrouded in black shadow. His heart sank.
"Why cover such a beautiful thing? Isn't it made for eating?" He reached out, his hand instinctively moving towards those radiant forms.
THWACK!
A thunderous slap jolted him back to reality. The dream shattered. A searing pain flared on his cheek as he sprang up, his hand flying to his smarting face. Rubbing his eyes, as the last vestiges of sleep vanished, he saw—a servant girl from their house standing before him.
The girl's cheeks were flushed, as if smoke might rise from them. She clutched her chest, her face a mask of terror and shame.
"Wh-wh-what were you tr-trying to do? W-with me?"
Ruhan's eyes widened, then squeezed shut as he desperately tried to recall. As everything clicked into place, reality unfolded before him with horrifying clarity. His expression grew grim with thought and panic. His mind, still muddled from sleep, spun rapidly with strange notions.
Standing before him was Tasnim—his subordinate servant. Her lack of a clan name confirmed her as a commoner. She was two years older than Ruhan, yet so timid that she might shriek and call everyone at any moment. Ruhan's mind raced: if she screamed, his honor would be utterly destroyed, not just with his family, but with the other household staff, especially Linara.
"Shame on you, Ruhan, shame! I never expected this from you!"
His brain virtually shut down, failing to utilize memory, wisdom, or will. His face was a picture of sheer terror, and he merely prayed for everything to be alright, or for this to be nothing but a dream.
Suddenly, the room door creaked open, someone entered and then shut it. This was Aspia, Tasnim's elder sister. Ruhan thought to himself, She's a demon, and she's arrived at the absolute worst possible moment.
"Sister! What happened? Why are you so scared? Did this bad boy do something to you? Tell me—I am with you!"
Ruhan's heart pounded violently, his forehead dripped with sweat, his ears rang hollow. All he thought was, "Oh Lord, save me!"
Aspia remained silent for a while, then a cold, thin smile formed on her lips. She thought, "You are trapped, Ruhan, caught in my net."
"People like you, Young Master, will one day be destroyed…"
After comforting her sister for a moment, she looked at Ruhan with a helpless expression. "We are just slaves. What can we do? Everything will be fine. We won't tell anyone. Do you hear, bad boy?"
She tried to convey their helplessness, but Ruhan couldn't grasp it. "Everything will be fine… how will everything be fine? What do I have to do?" Countless thoughts swirled in his head; he felt as though he might faint. He couldn't think deeply.
"Everything will be fine… right?"
"It will, if… you pay a small price."
"Price?" Ruhan's voice dried up, he whispered.
"Nothing much. Just five thousand Bawa. Then no one will know anything. If you want, you can even touch her afterward. You can have some fun for a while!"
Aspia's lips curled into a vulgar smile. She thought, Where would this fool get such courage?
The younger sister's face turned crimson. The elder sister clapped a hand over her mouth, pulling her closer to the terrified Ruhan.
Ruhan's soul shuddered. He began to feel helpless before his own subordinates. Aspia's cold smile seemed like that of a witch: cold, harsh, and terrifying.
He pushed back against the wall, sitting down, covering his face with his hands and shouting, "Take it! Don't come near me! Take everything! It's in the drawer under the table!"
The two sisters paused. The younger sister breathed a sigh of relief. She secretly harbored feelings for Ruhan, but she was bound to follow her older sister's words.
Now Aspia smiled a little, but Ruhan was incapable of understanding its meaning. He just sat, face covered by his knees, eyes wide with fear and tears.
Aspia opened the drawer. Two boxes—one for money, the other Ruhan's personal box, a precious gift from his grandmother.
From the money box, Aspia took out seven thousand Bawa, tucking it inside the upper part of her dress, close to her chest. She looked at Ruhan and asked, "Do you want it? You can take it if you need."
Ruhan, in a helpless tone, said, "You keep it."
Having obtained his testimony and confession, Aspia smiled. Now, even if someone found out, she could blame everything on Ruhan.
She then tried to open the next box, the one his grandmother had given Ruhan. After many attempts, she failed. Then, looking at Ruhan, she said, "Will you have any problem if I take this? I mean… is there an issue?" She was essentially demonstrating her power over Ruhan.
At first, Ruhan said nothing. This was very valuable to him. But when Aspia began to blackmail Ruhan again, he agreed.
"Take it and disappear! Get out of my sight!!"
"Huh? Did you say something? I think I misheard!"
Ruhan no longer dared to speak. If anyone knew, he would be expelled from the clan. He sat in silence, filled with rage and hatred.
He ground his teeth, sitting silently, powerless, without strength or means. His mind wished to bury Aspia alive, or feed her to a ferocious beast.
Since she came into this house, Ruhan's life had become hell. Using his weaknesses, she had taken money, valuables, and anything else she desired from him. Each time, she had put her foot on Ruhan's throat, treating him like a pet dog.
Behind everyone's back, she had ridden over Ruhan, living a life of greater comfort than his. Ruhan was forced to obey her every word. He had never been able to say anything. He had never dared to speak.
Ruhan, with hatred and anger, thought to himself—"I will kill you! I will tear apart every limb of yours! I will give you a vile, gruesome death! I swear it! I swear it!! I swear…"
Suddenly, Ruhan's eyes flickered, and he lost his words mid-sentence. He couldn't remember what he was about to do or say. He only recalled giving Aspia many things, happily. A sense of relief washed over him. His worries vanished.
"Why am I overthinking? What has happened to me??"
Ruhan sighed and lay back on his pillow. The soft morning sun, filtering through the gap in the window, fell on his eyes.
Outside the room, Tasnim and Aspia were standing. A moment later, their mother arrived. She was overjoyed seeing the money and the box in their hands. She stroked her two daughters' heads and kissed their foreheads.
Her name was Shirin. She was the chief servant of the house. Their family had served the Ahmed clan for centuries. Their ancestor, a servant of the Ahmed clan, had died by execution on a false accusation.
"You two will take revenge for our ancestors this time! Just watch… Ahmed family! You will be destroyed! But before that, I will completely extinguish the lamp of your lineage… just wait! You will perish in your sins, perish!!" She laughed maniacally.
A moment later, she pulled a doll from the folds of her dress. Several needles were stuck in it, and strands of Ruhan's hair adorned its body.
A large needle was embedded, passing from the doll's left temple through to its right, with another needle attached to it by a thread.
Ruhan suddenly became still.
The wind had stopped, the bamboo leaves were silent.
His pupils dilated, his mouth trembling.
The faint clinking sound of needles echoed in his ears.
Then—
Something was uttered, from Ruhan's own mouth—but he hadn't opened it.
He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
The woman took that very needle and plunged it into her own head. Blood began to trickle from her head onto her shoulder. Yet, like a merciless demon, she continued to push the thick needle deeper into her brain.
Seeing her mother's horrifying act, the younger sister became terrified. Tears streamed from her eyes. She couldn't recall when her mother had changed so drastically.
The elder sister, meanwhile, seemed to find more amusement in it. A cold smile played on her lips.
When she felt it was right, holding the doll in one hand and a piece of cut flesh from her own body in the other, the woman began to pray.
"Oh, my Mahadev! Oh, my Lord! Lord of Misfortune! Lord of Curses! Lord of Pain! Your curse is lifting from the boy, bring it back! Entwine it with his life and death! So that it never ends. Rather, let him end his own life. Lord! Hear me! Accept this sacrifice!"
Suddenly, the doll's blood glowed brightly. The air grew heavy. The doll's eyes awoke.
Silently, an invisible entity laughed. The blood gathered on the woman's hand, beginning to transform into a needle.
But there was not enough blood.
Realizing this, Shirin's eyes widened. She used a knife hidden behind her back to cut off more flesh from her shoulder. For her, even brutal pain was nothing compared to achieving her goal.
All the blood combined to complete the needle. It was as thick as an iron rod and an arm's length long. The back was normal, but the front was terrifyingly sharp.
As soon as it was formed, it slipped through the gap in Ruhan's door and entered the room. He was sleeping, lying on his back, face up.
The needle approached his right ear. It went behind it and struck his head with force, piercing his brain and exiting through his left ear.
His body began to thrash. His breathing stopped. His eyes lost themselves in darkness, where red blood took its place.
Within moments, he became still. Completely still!
But amazingly, there was no blood loss. The blood needle then began to change form, becoming liquid. It seeped into his head through the holes on both sides.
Automatically, within moments, the holes in his head healed. Ruhan remained peacefully asleep, as if nothing had happened to him.
Meanwhile, the woman stood clenching her teeth in pain. Blood was still gushing from her head. The flesh cut from her shoulder exposed the bones beneath, and large veins spurted copious amounts of blood.
Aspia looked at the doll in her mother's hand. There had been three needles; now only two remained. These needles were not ordinary. They were entirely made of blood.
Some time ago, she had extorted a book from Ruhan, a crucial text given by the academy. Consequently, Ruhan performed very poorly in his exams.
But Aspia didn't care. In fact, Ruhan's failures made her even happier. She would feel no pity seeing the boy die a cruel death. But as long as he was alive, it would be to her advantage to use him.
In that book, Aspia had learned about this doll. It was not a doll. It was a Spirit.
Spirits, unlike souls, are not entirely part of the Spiritual World. Nor are they entirely part of the Physical World, like human bodies.
Spirits stand between the two worlds,
Like shadows born on the borderlines of existence.
They cannot be understood—neither by mantra nor by science;
Only felt, when they touch one's own existence.
And Aspia's mother, whom she prayed to as a god,
To whom she sent silent pleas—
Its true name, hidden behind the curtains of history—
She did not know the name. She only knew—it was not human or divine; a thing in between, a bad amalgamation of shadow and form—
An unfamiliar word hung on her lips… the Needle Doll Spirit.