It is 1993. I stand before chalky green walls. Chalky green walls with deep mahogany stains of paan spat across in a curious pattern. I am hesitant to walk into what looks like a hovel from the outside, but the promise of significant discovery lures me beyond the somewhat basic portals.

The inside of the hovel is a bit like a war-torn hell-hole. Its darkness is not the welcoming kind. A man with dirty feet sits on a bed that encroaches on most of the space in the room. Burqa clad women with squealing children sit around him expectantly, but he deigns to see us first. We are important. We came in a big car.

The man with dirty feet is the one who says he will save me from the evil eye of those who wish me harm. He is purportedly a practitioner of White Magic. I frankly get a feeling that it’s more off-white. But things have been going terribly wrong in my life. I have been failing and I have been falling. And a few days ago, a bound taaviz has been discovered near my room. Once opened, it reveals strange hieroglyphics with ominous pretensions. My mind tells me that it means nothing. But my heart is fearful. Am I in the web of a spell?

So here I am. Sitting face to face with Abid, which is the disappointingly regular sounding name of the man with the dirty feet. And wondering whether I can make a hasty and undignified exit and thus retain my sanity. But Abid is already attentive. And I am weak with the heat. He mutters something incomprehensible to my ears and turns to scribble some lines on the wall next to him. It is a strange assemblage of letters and numbers that I cannot decipher, and fits in uneasily with the million more chalkings on the wall. And so my story unites with that of several others. Apparently, this is how Abid communicates with the Jinn or spirit that aids him in his investigations.

He then beckons me to follow him into another room. There he asks me to place my foot on a piece of paper that he takes out from an overstacked metal almirah. After he outlines my size seven onto the sheet, he adds several more letters and numbers to it. It looks kind of pretty even if my foot isn’t exactly glass slipper material. This piece of paper, Abid tells me nonchalantly, will make everything okay. Just like that.

As I leave, I notice that the women in the other room are crowding around Abid as he implants long needles into a large melon, chanting with fervour. Apparently a little boy has a stomach tumour and Abid has promised to heal him. When I get home, I put the taaviz near my bedside. I am not sure I want to hang it, like an albatross, around my neck. In a few months, things change. My life opens up to all kinds of possibilities. Business deals go through easily. And personal bottlenecks are uncorked. Is this the doing of the man with the dirty feet? It’s not something I like to think about.

SPELLBOUND

Of course, not all magic protects. Sometimes it can be as evil as premeditated murder. And more dangerous than sex with strangers. And when it is as black as sin, it can hurt those whom you hate, and make slaves out of those you love.

Naheed Salik is a woman who has discovered just how far-reaching the effects of Kaala jadoo can be. A few years ago, Naheed’s husband started acting strangely. Though theirs was a love marriage, it had obviously gone sour. He would arrive home after midnight, and leave first thing in the morning. If Naheed so much as bumped into him by mistake, he would jump back and shout at her to stay away. "I can’t bear you. You repulse me" he would say, his eyes flashing with anger. It was not the normal disdain of a disaffected husband. Salik would also push his children away saying he despised them. Clearly, there was more to this than could be explained away as a temporary phase, or even a desire for divorce.

Of course, there was another woman. There always is. But, as Naheed discovered soon enough, Lyla was no ordinary mistress. At the entrance of the Salik house, a small earthen elephant lay amidst several plants. Whenever Naheed passed it, she felt terribly uneasy. "Basically, we are Syeds, and our elders have told us that if anybody does kaala jadoo against us, we’ll find out about it sooner or later."

One day, she was so unnerved that she talked to her friend, Tehmina, about her suspicions. Tehmina laughed, and said "Look, I’ll show you there’s nothing there," and put her hand into the hollow part of the elephant. But to her amazement, there was something inside. A small rag doll, with a primitive imitation of Naheed’s features had been stuffed into the elephant’s stomach. It was stuck with pins and bound with a taaviz in Salik and Naheed’s name, and wished her evil, harm and eventual death. Naheed was in turmoil. She had heard as a child that her mother had nearly died because a voodoo doll with her face had been buried in a graveyard. As Naheed’s hysteria grew, Rehana, a cousin and close confidante, suggested that they go to someone who could cast off the spell. And that is how Naheed found herself face to face with the man with the dirty feet.

"When I first went to Abid, he told me that it was too late. That the jadoo was so strong that he couldn’t counter it anymore. I felt so powerless that I started crying. I suppose he took pity on me, because he said he would somehow help me." Abid prayed to his spirits, wrote his cryptic message on the wall and then told Naheed why her husband was not himself lately. "He said that Lyla had been feeding Salik her menstrual blood mixed in food so that it would pass undetected. Through this spell she maintained her sexual hold on him."

Abid explained to Naheed that Salik would have to vomit out the evil from his body. For this, he gave her a few lemons that she would have to place behind their bed at night. Naheed did what she was told. That whole night Salik threw up again and again. "It was a disgusting, dark vomit. I have never seen anything like it before," shudders Naheed.

EVIL WAYS

According to Rehana, her brother-in-law, Akeem, who was embroiled in a family property feud, was also given lemons by Abid. "Since it is the direct victim of the spell who throws up, the lemons are a good way of finding out who you have to protect," she reveals. When Akeem took the lemons home, it was his five-year old son who vomited out the same black bile.

Later, Akeem went to another aalim to verify what Abid had told him. The woman, Sadiqa Begum, lives in a posh bungalow in Defence, and apparently has access to a man who is a master of the craft. Sadiqa Begum pulled out a large bag of what Rehana can only describe as "clanging objects" and then gave Akeem a pair of dice to roll, which he did. Like Abid, Sadiqa Begum also told him that the spell had been cast on his son. But her solution to the problem was rather more costly. Akeem ended up forking out Rs. 5,000 for a singular taaviz wrapped in deer skin.

Naheed also went to Sadiqa Begum in search of redemption and a lost husband. Once again, the solutions were expensive. Naheed was asked to bring about 12 dozen eggs, 10 kilos of raw meat and several more of maghaz as sadqa, which she did. Sadiqa Khanum also wanted clippings of Naheed’s finger nails for a potion for Salik, but Naheed refused because she felt a bit uneasy about feeding anything to her husband. But when Abid asked her to put crushed pieces of a taaviz into Salik’s food she agreed reluctantly. "What could I do?" sighs Naheed, "I was scared of losing my whole life. I was desperate."

Abid also told Naheed there were more taavizes in the house which had to be discarded in water. But it had to be still water that couldn’t bring the talismans back to shore. When Naheed did a thorough spring-cleaning of the house, she found about eight more taavizes under the bed, the carpet, in the rice tin and in the children’s room. She threw the talismans into the Kemari Native Jetty and then proceeded to burn the voodoo doll, as Abid had instructed. "When we burnt the doll," Naheed reminisces, "strange blue sparks and lights came out of it. I’m telling you, it was not a normal fire."

Abid had promised Naheed a change in her husband’s attitude within forty days. And surprisingly, that is precisely what happened. "Salik was a changed man. He stopped going out all the time. He was more attentive towards the kids. And he was more attentive towards me. Whatever Abid or Sadiqa Begum did, it worked. Frankly, if you’re hanging off a cliff, you will grab the only hand that is being extended to you. And I did"

BLACK MAGIC WOMAN

Farooq, a highly placed executive in a multi-national firm, also turned to magical cures in desperation. " My story is from way back in the fifties. I was in a different city when I learned that my father was dying. I rushed to his bedside, but the doctors couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Finally, we went to an aalim, who told us that someone had done Sifli on my father. We tried everything, but nothing worked. My father was rapidly wasting away. Finally, we went to a woman called Khajista, who was a well known practitioner of kaala jadoo. Because, see, kaala jadoo ka tor sirf kaala jadoo say hi ho sakta hay. It was Khajista who saved my father."

Khajista had apparently inherited the craft from her father because it can only be passed on from father to daughter. "She was a ravishing beauty," reminisces Farooq, "but she was very dirty. She used to tell me she couldn’t bathe often because her Rakshik (evil spirit/jinn) wouldn’t let her. Keeping filthy was essential for what she did." Part of Khajista’s initiation into black magic included the eating of excrement every morning. "She told me that she didn’t want to at first, but her father forced her because he wanted an heir to whom he could impart his knowledge." Khajista was originally a Muslim, but when she began practising kaala jadoo she renounced the faith. "You can’t say your prayers because the Rakshik won’t allow you to. You have to choose what you want to be. You can’t have the power and the piety together," explains Farooq.

Farooq believes that it was Khajista’s inordinate skills as a witch that came to his father’s rescue. "He wore the taaviz she gave him. We knew it was kaala jadoo, and frankly, we didn’t care. We just wanted our father back."

The taaviz cost, both in terms of religious compromise - and money. But it was a price Farooq’s family was willing to pay. His father lived on for several years, and his eventual death only occurred when he removed the amulet. "Khajista had warned us that if my father ever took the taaviz off he would die. Years later, he went to a religious buzurg who insisted he remove it because it was a black magic talisman. By that evening, my father fell gravely ill. We ran back to Khajista to save him, but she said it was too late. The earlier spell had been revived. There was nothing she could do this time. My father died within forty days."

Sifli, the most hardened form of black magic, they say can maim, destroy and kill. Sprinkling Sarson before a man is supposed to be one way of casting this kind of spell. But kaala jadoo is often also used for relatively simpler spells. "When I was at college in the USA, I was wrongly accused in a scandal involving a woman. Khajista sent me some Ullu ki aankh ka surma, and told me to apply it before I went to see the Dean in his office. If I did so, he would believe everything I said." Farooq wore dark glasses till he came face to face with the Dean, and then looked straight into his eyes. He was not expelled and finished his degree.

When asked if he feels he has sinned by practising kaala jadoo, Farooq is unrepentant. "Listen, my father was dying. Nothing else worked, and this did. And then, there are things you want in life - a promotion, a new job. Lots of people do it. They just don’t admit to it as openly as I do." Farooq may well be right. Black magic is said to be rampantly available throughout Pakistan. And everyone from Lahore society begums with a grudge to desperate banking executives with ambition seem to be spellbound. And access to practitioners is easy, if not cheap. M. Ejaz Shah advertises his profession through leaflets distributed through car windows. He even has a telephone number you can call for an appointment. He proclaims that he can break kaala jadoo spells within 24-hours. When you probe more, he whispers that he can cast kaala jadoo spells too. Come over anytime between 10 and 7. His competition, though, is tough. Drive around Karachi’s Saddar, and you will find a hundred different boards with a skull and bones beckoning you. Most are fake, and there to make a fast buck.

Of course, in Islam, indulging in any form of kaala jadoo - be it Sifli or something more frivolous like a love potion - is a sin that cannot be forgiven. Hazrati Begum, a deeply religious woman who has her own Imambargah in Nazimabad, explains that if you practise kaala jadoo or get it done, you are destined to burn in hell forever. "I too have heard that the only way to break a black magic spell is by black magic, but I think there are other ways of countering evil. And you have to believe that kaala jadoo exists because the Quran says that a spell was cast even on the holy Prophet (PBUH). Basically, you should stay in wuzooo and read your namaaz regularly. And Surah-e-Falak and Surah-e-Naas are particularly effective in warding off black magic. I don’t think there is any need to turn to anything but the Kalaam-e-Ilahi."

But people turn elsewhere every day. Some in distress. And some in desire. And the most effective warlocks in the trade are thought to be Hindus, mostly from the Dhobi or Jamedaar class. These black magicians practise the art of jadoo with great seriousness. Some are less money-minded than others, but all embark on breaking and casting evil spell with equal ease. And they may well have better access to your trash for personal cast-offs (e.g hair from a comb, menstruation pads) that can be used against you in spells.

THE EVIL EYE

Right off main Gizri Road, a small while from the gregarious selling and buying at the Sunday bazaar, lives a man with eyes that are blacker than the darkest night, but shine with more intensity than the brightest day. His name is Parsotam, and if you go through the right sources, he can supposedly make your life - or wreck someone else’s.

Parsotam’s house looks like any other in the street. Small, modest and insignificant. That is until I am invited to travel beyond the shoddy curtain that half-heartedly guards the room to the right.

The cloth that makes up the curtain is an indistinguishable shade of grey. The room inside is much more vivid, almost flash. Towering Hindu gods closeted in vast frames breathe heavily in the small space. As I raise my eyes to them, the walls close in around me with strange discomfort. I’ve seen enough Hindu temples, but the closeness makes it all seem new and uncharted. Kali, Hanuman and Shiv Shankar look down on me with seeming disdain from all directions. Twirling tongues, strident tridents and infinite arms hover ominously above my head. There is a promise of alien rituals and heady potions. And the odour of cheap incense and untold secrets.

The waiting seems long, the minutes endless. And I am afraid that if Parsotam is supposed to be as good as they say he is, he may discover that I am fake. That all I want is a story. And for that I will have to give him one that is made up. Well, not exactly. The tale I relate is Naheed Salik’s. Altered slightly for my own purposes.

Finally, Parsotam walks in and positions himself on the gaddi in front of me. I am a bit startled at this intense man with pitch black skin and barbed, hypnotic eyes that seem to bite into my mind all too easily. He does not seem to be of this world. Less because of the way he looks, and more because of the way he looks at me. I am not glad that I came alone.

But I tell Parsotam what the problem is. About Naheed’s straying husband and the taavizes that keep turning up in her house. He doesn’t say much at first. And then the questions come fast and furious. What is the husband’s name? What is his mother’s name? What is Naheed’s mother’s name? He has to know if I want to know. I feign ignorance, and say that I will bring my friend with me the next time around to answer all his queries.

Meanwhile, Parsotam has pulled out a bag of delights. From it he takes out a handful of grain, and starts separating it into piles. He then sprinkles rose leaves on each pile. The piles are constantly altered, the grain moved continuously in circles until I am dizzy. Was that the intention? Next, an ugly, twisted black root is crumbled and scattered over the flower petals. Then a bottle of orange liquid, probably watered Sindoor, is thrown with great flourish around the room. "Ask me, ask me in the name of any god you choose, whether there is kaala jadoo done on you friend." I am a bit startled, but I ask nonetheless. In the name of Hanuman. In the name of Kali. And each time Parsotam picks out a mathematical answer of yes on his rosary beads.

He then sends his assistant out of the room and leans towards me with deliberate secrecy. "That woman is feeding him things. You know what I’m talking about? This is not a simple case. The jadoo is very strong. And your friend is also being fed potions through the woman who works in her house. It’s by the sea, isn’t it?" I nod uncomfortably. "You don’t have to pay me," he says as his eyes look straight into mine. "You can see I’m not the greedy type. But if you get what you wish, you can make a donation in the box." I look at the box. It looks big and has a rather large slot. "You will have to get whatever I ask you to. I will probably need Chamray ka paani aur suwey. But I want you to buy them so that you know I am not ripping you off."

Clearly, Parsotam thinks that Naheed’s ordeal is far from over. And maybe it isn’t. But there is no exact way of knowing. Even if Naheed does suspect that Lyla is not the kind to give up that easily. Just a few months ago two new school uniforms were discovered in the Saliks’ balcony, where the washing is usually hung. They were the exact same size as Naheed and Salik’s two daughters - one being about 11, the other 18. And there are no other female children in the apartment block where they live. Naheed was advised to burn them immediately.

As I leave Parsotam’s house, passing the many waiting in line, and head towards my car, I notice a garland of dead Chambeli that was definitely not there before. It is right in front of my door. I tread around it carefully. And don’t look back as I drive off.

BLACK AS THE NIGHT

If Parsotam unnerved me with his dramatic insight, nothing had quite prepared me for Babu - or rather his disciples. Babu’s little three-roomed shanty is located in a working-class enclave tucked away in an affluent neighbourhood near the Karachi Sheraton. I make my way there with Jamuna in the heat of the afternoon. Jamuna is my sister’s sweeper and knows some of these people well. She is a bit fearful of Babu - his reputation precedes him. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, we never meet the infamous Babu because he has gone on "an assignment." But his "right and left hand" as they introduce themselves are willing to listen to my story - which, once again, is Naheed’s.

Buzzing flies hover annoyingly around my head as I sit in front of a blackened mantelpiece that looks like it has seen its fair share of ceremonial fires. Several pictures of a victorious Kali are crowded into the small space. A man stares at me from the open window, before he is asked to return later. The room looks like it could do with a cleaning.

Babu’s disciples feign concern over Naheed’s harsh story. Right hand then suddenly looks up heavenwards and spits violently into his hand. The spit could be anything from paan to blood. "See this blood," he says with flourish, "that is what she is feeding him. The man has had very strong jadoo done on him. You can probably smell the stench of it when you walk into their bedroom."

I ask the disciples how the spell can be countered. They say that some of the work will be done at the Kabaristan at night. And that if I am reluctant to go myself I will have to send someone with them. They will also have to visit Naheed’s house to place a taaviz at all the entrances. "We can make her husband her slave. Naheed can have him sitting at her feet with his thumb in his mouth if we get going." As for Lyla, they are eager to plague her life. "Ham un donhon kay beech may suwey rakh dein gay. You see how he will begin to hate her. Give us her phone number, and we will make her very existence miserable. Excuse my language, ham usko g__du karsaktay hain."

Like Parsotam, Babu’s disciples say I will only have to pay once the mission is completed. "But we may require some running money from time to time, so it’s better you know now." I wonder how heavy a hole this "running money" eventually makes in a client’s pocket. I am sure it will not be an insignificant amount.

As I leave Babu’s little shack, I feel dirty, unclean. I feel an urgent need to drive home and wash myself. These are not pleasant places. These are not pleasant experiences. But I can see how many might be lured into what seems like an easy fix. Get the job you want. Get the man you want. Get what you want, when you want it.

IRRECONCILABLE DIFFERENCES

Adila thought her life was going to take a turn for the better when she listened to a woman who told her she would make a love potion for her husband. "Basically, the marriage was going through tough times, and I thought there would be no harm in trying something once," she remembers regretfully, "I didn’t quite understand what I was doing. I didn’t really believe in black magic, so I didn’t expect anything major to happen." But it did. When Adila’s husband drank the tea which contained her grated finger nails, he didn’t become amorous. Instead he started being verbally abusive. "He screamed that he would kill me, that he hated me. And raked up stupid things from a decade ago. I was really shocked because he is usually a very mild-mannered man."

As Adila had been having problems with her in-laws, she suspects that they might have been behind the whole scheme - as well as subsequent incidents. "Bizarre things kept on happening after that. One day I found a porcupine in the house - now tell me how can a porcupine land up in Karachi unless someone has brought it there? All night I felt that someone was sticking needles into me. I was violently ill and ran a high fever. Another time, a turtle was found in the garden with a taaviz bound to it. That time my husband was the one to fall sick." It was only when Adila later went to an aalim in Iraq, that she found a solution to these incessant problems. "Would you believe, he told me that a porcupine had been found in the house? He made me drink water from a bowl that had symbols and numbers on it, and also gave me taavizes to protect myself. Things have gotten a lot better since then."

It seems that in-laws are very often behind attempts at breaking up a marriage with kaala jadoo. Sofia’s mother-in-law is now dead. But throughout her life, she tried to disrupt her son’s home. "I would find new taavizes in the house all the time. And when she passed away, we discovered a book with all kinds of black magic spells in her room." Sofia’s marriage survived years of turmoil and strife, but a certain television actress’ didn’t. "My husband was behaving very weirdly," she recalls, "even the dogs in the house wouldn’t go near him. And these blood splatters would suddenly appear on the walls." Obviously, there was something very wrong. The actress’ grandmother knew of a woman who was known for breaking spells, and brought her to the house. "She prayed a lot and then hammered iron nails into the four corners of the house for protection. It worked for sometime, but eventually the marriage broke up. We’re quite sure that it was someone from my husband’s family."

WHATDUNIT?

Of course, black magic and witchcraft have long been a part of many traditional cultures from Haiti to India. Witch hunts may have wrongly accused many women, but it is certain that some kind of witchcraft - often just the worship of natural elements - has existed in most societies. At another level, those who practise it are said to have supernatural or satanic powers. And operate with the help of familiars, demons, jinns and spirits. And certain saints, gods and goddesses are worshipped for endowing these powers on ordinary mortals. In Hinduism, for instance, Kali, the female incarnation of Shiva has given rise to fearful cults like the Thugs of Kali Ghat and orgiastic rites that were supposed to include human sacrifice. Voodoo, a primitive folk religion enmeshed with Catholic saints and African ritual, is also associated with popular black magic symbols such as the doll riddled with pins. Often, it is difficult to dissociate fact from fiction, truth from rumour and gossip.

Whether it really is magic that does the trick is a highly complicated issue. What is it about a particular fruit or organic property that can harm or protect a person? Can lemons placed behind a bed actually get people to vomit out a magic spell, and can potions containing menstrual blood really make a man a sex slave? These questions are invariably difficult to answer. It’s a bit like asking someone if they believe in ghosts - if you’ve seen one, you probably do. And if you haven’t, you probably scoff at the idea. Certainly, most intelligent individuals would be loath to believe that a few grains of sand or an owl’s tongue can change their life. But first-hand experience can be very persuasive. If you find a Voodoo doll with a pin stuck in its leg just when you break yours, will you rush to a doctor - or Abid? And if your marriage starts to fall apart as you discover taavizes in your house, will you rush to a psychiatrist - or Parsotam? Tough questions, tougher answers. As Naheed says, "It’s easy to sit in judgement when it’s not your life that has been made a living hell."

But what would you do if it was you?

BLACK MAGIC TERMINOLOGY

SIFLI: The most sophisticated form of black magic, Sifli is a word that evokes dread. It is said that Sifli uses the dirtiest ingredients to get the dirtiest results. It can maim you, control you - and kill you.

BENGAL KA JADOO: If there is any one geographical area that is famous for prowess in Black magic, it is Bengal. Many famous practitioners seem to have some links with East Pakistan/Bangladesh.

TAAVIZ: An amulet that is inscribed with numbers and words aimed at provoking a certain condition (e.g. love, fear) in the person to whom it is addressed.

MUWAKKIL/RAKSHIK: The Jinn or evil spirit through whom the Black Magic is performed. Practitioners are supposed to have one or more in their possession. In return for these services, they are also required to acquiesce to certain demands of the Jinns or spirits. This may include selling their soul.

KABBAR KI MITTI: Mud taken from graves, sometimes mixed with the bones of the dead, is considered to be a very potent ingredient in Black Magic. The graveyard is also commonly used at night for the casting of spells.

SUWEH: These are large needles that are used primarily in spells intended to cause conflict between people.

CHAMREH KA PAANI: Another ingredient that is commonly used for potions. It is derived from animal hides and is available from butcher’s shops.

SINDOOR: Is often used as a dye in water used for sprinkling during a spell.

FINGER NAILS: Mixed into a potion, these can drive a person to fall madly in love with the person whose nails have been used.

MEAT SACRIFICES: These most commonly involve specific things like goat’s brain or liver in large quantities, and are supposed to ward off curses. They are also used for spells.

ULLU KI AANKH KA SURMA: This surma is made from an owl’s eyes. If you use it and look at someone, he/she will believe anything you say.

ULLU KI JEEB: Or owl’s tongue. Fed to a man, it makes him yours forever.

BLOOD, SWEAT AND TEARS: To cast a spell, most practitioners will ask for something that has the intended victim’s body secretions on it or belongs to that person. The most commonly used items are: hair, clothes that have absorbed a person’s sweat and in the case of a woman, discarded menstruation pads. In very sophisticated forms of Sifli, a woman may feed a man a love potion mixed with menstrual blood. Extended use of this is very difficult to counter. In most prescribed remedies, the man has to be made to vomit out the substance through a second spell.

LEMONS: Lemons are supposed to be strong safeguards against evil spells. People who think they might be victims of Black Magic are often advised to sleep with lemon pieces under their pillows.

KEELS: Keels or nails are driven into the four corners of the house to ward off the effect of spells related to the place of abode.

PUTLI/VOODOO DOLL: These are usually cloth rag dolls made to look like the recipient of the curse or spell. Pins stuck in various parts of the doll will cause pains and aches to the corresponding parts of the actual person’s body.