The Resident Djinn

Summary

A young person's belief in the supernatural is challenged after a potentially fatal accident is attributed to a mundane cause rather than the intervention of a supposed djinn.

Abstract

While crossing the Hooghly river, the narrator's cousin, Imran, recounts a tale of a djinn residing in their local mosque, stirring fear among the group with descriptions of the entity's elastic limbs. Despite the chilling story, the narrator remains skeptical. However, during a game of cricket on the mosque's roof, the narrator nearly falls off, only to be saved by what feels like a cold grip on their ankles. Initially believing it to be Imran's doing, the narrator later learns that their trousers had merely caught on an iron bar, debunking the belief in the djinn's intervention.

Opinions

The narrator initially dismisses the story of the djinn as a spooky tale, indicating skepticism towards supernatural explanations.
The group's fear is palpable, suggesting a shared susceptibility to the power of storytelling and the influence of local lore.
After the incident on the roof, the narrator's perspective shifts from disbelief to a brief acceptance of the supernatural, highlighting the impact of a personal experience on belief systems.
The revelation that the near-fall was due to the narrator's clothing catching on an iron bar underscores a rational explanation for an event initially perceived as supernatural.
The narrator's lingering memory of the cold grip hints at an enduring impression of the incident, despite the logical explanation.

Friend or foe?

We were on a boat crossing the Hooghly river when my cousin Imran told us about the Djinn who resided on the first floor of our local mosque.

It felt spooky — maybe because it was dark already — coming to know that the Djinn possessed flexible limbs that could extend to any length.

For a moment, all of us felt that the Djinn’s hands would come out of the water and pull all of us into the dark river.

But deep inside, I didn’t believe the story to be true.

My perspective changed only after the episode happened to me.

One day we were playing cricket on the top floor of the mosque. It was so much fun except for the very low parapet. The ball would bounce off the roof, and one of us had to climb down many stairs to fetch it.

I was fielding near the edge of the roof when the ball came shooting towards me. In an attempt to catch the ball, I tumbled over the boundary.

I closed my eyes. My mind went blank. Then suddenly, I felt a strong grip on my ankles. The hand holding my ankles felt cold — it must be Imran — his hands are always icy-cold. It was quite difficult for me to look up as I was hanging upside-down.

There was a lot of yelling and shouting below. I looked down and saw people running to save me. They gathered jute mats lying around — which were used for Friday prayers — and made a cushion for my landing.

He released me without giving any hint. I landed safely on the cushion. I panicked and ran home without looking back, tears running down my cheeks.

I was mad at Imran. Why did he release me? He could have pulled me up — he was strong and could have done that easily.

“Why didn’t you pull me up?” I asked Imran later.

“Me? How?” He sounded puzzled.

He told me that nobody held me. The cuff of my trousers had stuck to the end of the iron-bar protruding out from the edge of the roof.

Years have passed by but I still remember the grip on my ankles. Icy-cold.

Flash Fiction

The Resident Djinn

Friend or foe?