It all began in a secluded village surrounded by dense, whispering jungles. Three brothers—my grandfathers—arrived there to start a new life. They built a small hut, unaware that they were stepping into a world of ancient shadows.
The eldest grandfather was a man of light; he healed the sick with his prayers. But the second grandfather walked a darker path. He earned money by digging up graves and returning the dead to their families. Driven by greed and curiosity, he begged the eldest to teach him magic. The eldest warned him, 'You may practice small things, but never use this power for evil.' But the second grandfather's ambition was too great. To test his new spells, he used magic on his own younger sister. The spell backfired, blinding her instantly. Despite his desperate attempts to fix his mistake, she passed away a few months later.
One evening, while walking through the fields, the eldest grandfather witnessed a celestial battle. A Fairy and a Djinn were fighting over a mystical golden flower. In the struggle, the flower fell to the earth. Before they could reclaim it, my grandfather snatched it and swallowed it whole. He was a master of the dark arts and knew the immense power the flower held. The Fairy descended, horrified, but my grandfather only laughed. 'From now on,' he declared, 'you shall do as I command.'
Years passed. Before he died, the eldest grandfather passed his spiritual companions and powers to the second brother, warning him never to misuse them. He cast a protective boundary (Bandish) around the village to keep other entities out. But after his death, the second grandfather encountered a vengeful Djinn—the same one who had lost the flower years ago. The Djinn attacked him, breaking his leg, and demanded the power back. Terrified that the spirits would haunt his future generations, the second grandfather sought help from a local Saint (Peer), but the Djinn was relentless.
In a final, violent confrontation, the Djinn trapped the second grandfather in chains and forcibly ripped the spirits from his body. The trauma was too much, and he died in agony. However, the 'good' spirits—the ones who had become loyal to my family—refused to join the Djinn. They carried my grandfather's body back home and settled in the shadows of our house, waiting.
This was the house I was born into. When I was just two years old, I wasn't alone. While the evil entities lurked in the trees outside, the loyal spirits cradled me in their invisible arms. My parents would watch in confusion as I laughed and played with thin air. They didn't know that the legacy of the Golden Flower and the debt of the Djinn were now resting on my small shoulders. The spirits had found their new playmate, and they were never going to let me go."