The silver ring given to me by Imran Baba was on my finger, but its coldness sent a strange restlessness through my body. Outside, the howling wind lashed against the doors as if some hungry beast were trying to force its way inside. Without moving from his spot, Imran Baba began reciting something in a loud, firm voice. Slowly, the noise died down, leaving behind a heavy, haunting silence.
The Start of the Journey
The next morning, even before the sun had risen, we decided to leave for our ancestral village. One thing Imran Baba had whispered in my ear kept echoing in my mind: "They will try every possible way to stop you, because their secret is buried in that old well."
As we set off toward the village, the weather kept shifting rapidly. One moment the sun would beat down harshly, and the next, dark clouds would suddenly mask the sky. My heart was racing. I was terrified of leaving my wife and sister alone back home, but Imran Baba had already drawn a protective circle (Hisaar) around the house for them.
The Desolation of the Village
When we reached our ancestral village, the atmosphere felt strangely heavy. People were huddled inside their homes, and the old trees stood withered like skeletons of thorns. As soon as Imran Baba stepped across the village boundary, he closed his eyes.
"Hassan," he said solemnly, "I can smell the scent of old blood in this soil. This is the place where the root of all this evil lies."
The Ancient Well
We walked toward the desolate well located at the far edge of the village, the one Imran Baba had mentioned. There stood an ancient Banyan tree, its massive roots winding around the well like a suffocating grip.
As we drew closer, I felt as though someone was whispering directly into my ear. Strange noises—sobbing and wailing—seemed to rise from the depths, as if an old agony were being recounted.
Imran Baba gave me strict instructions:
Do Not Look Back: "No matter who calls your name, do not turn around."
Protect the Lamp: He lit a small clay lamp and handed it to me. "As long as this flame burns, we are safe."
The First Guardian
Just as we reached the mouth of the well, a thick black mist began to seep out of the ground. The smoke coalesced into a shape—a shadow with eyes that smoldered like dying embers.
"You will not leave this place alive!" the entity's voice boomed from within the well, sounding as if it were coming from a deep abyss.
Imran Baba gripped his prayer beads and stepped toward the shadow. There wasn't a trace of fear on his face. He looked at me and said, "Hassan, keep a firm hold on that lamp! Today, this root must be torn out."
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