Raz Rising

“Sure you want to do this?” Pak Rashid asked as we pushed our way through the heavy green iron gates of the Kg. Wakaff Muslim Cemetery. It was just after the Maghrib prayers but the space between me and the rows of hundreds of tombstones in front was pitch black illuminated occasionally by passing clouds revealing the moonlight. The fragrance from the blooming frangipani flowers filled the air.

"Yes. I’m sure. Definitely!” I said although I knew I will never be ready for anything like this. Husin who had been walking silently behind us cleared his throat. I stopped in my tracks. My heart beat violently.

“Are you scared?” Pak Rashid turned around to face me. The sound of my heartbeat might have escaped the walls of my chest for him to notice the fear that I had tried to hide. Pak Rashid’s face was green under the yellow tungsten bulb of the torchlight which I flashed on him. I wondered then if the bulb had any green element amongst the yellow or had the stocky man transformed himself into another level of paranormal heights. “Put that away!” Pak Rashid said, pointing to the torchlight. I smiled apologetically and quickly flashed the torch on to the gravel path.

Pak Rashid was a man with a solemn face. With a head-dress of white cotton cloth wrapped around his head, he would peddle his way around the neighboring villages on his old bicycle to fulfill a responsibility to the villagers. Pak Rashid was well known in Pasir Lupus for his line of work. From the break of dawn till after the sun set, his little hut in the middle of a sparsely populated village would receive people coming from the villages and beyond seeking help to solve their various problems.

“Ayah, this is Raz, a friend of mine I told you about.” Husin addressed Pak Rashid as we stood on the dirt track in front of a wooden house on stilts where Pak Rashid was sitting at the top of the wooden steps.

“Please, come on in.” Pak Rashid smiled as he stood to make way for us.

“Thank you for having me.” I said. I was honestly grateful to be welcomed to witness him in his line of duty, without much probing.

“I have no reservations if you want to see me at work.” Pak Rashid said. “But tell me something, child. Are you easily frightened? Do you believe in ghosts and evil spirits?”

“No, Pak Rashid! I’m not easily frightened.” I assured him, with a straight face. For the life of me, that would be the biggest lie I had ever told anyone. My family and closest friends would know that I would not sleep alone at night for at least two weeks if I were to receive news on someone passing, for fear that the dead will come back to pay me a visit, just to say hello!

“And ghosts? Do you believe that they exist?” Pak Rashid asked. He did not look convinced by my confession but I managed to pull through by looking at Husin for help, who had been smiling to himself ever since Pak Rashid started his interrogation process.

“I believe in good and evil. I know that those who had died in vain will be restless in the afterworld. They will, thus, come back to this world, where they don’t belong, to seek help or to haunt.” I tried my utter best to give a logical explanation to what I said I believed. I had wished then that they had taught this in school.

Both Pak Rashid and Husin laughed politely. This, of course, had made me look like the stupidest person they had ever laid eyes on.

“Have you seen one?” Husin blurted out all of a sudden.

I shook my head.

“Then you are in luck, child. I have big task tonight. If you are certain that you will not be frightened, even for the slightest bit, you can come with me to pacify a restless soul.” Pak Rashid said as he helped his wife who had since came out from inside the house with a tray of drinks and sweet cakes. He was no longer smiling when he looked at both Husin and I. “We will go after the evening prayers.”

Husin nodded.

“Where are we going?” I asked. The sky looked threatening. It was only half past twelve in the afternoon. Thousand of questions raced through my mind. The scene of Pak Rashid fighting evil with a kris and smoke rising from burning incense was already in the making in my creative mind.

“To the cemetery. To pacify the soul of a man who had died a violent death.” Pak Rashid said casually while sipping the tea served by his wife. “It is important that you be brave during the whole procedure. For the slightest fear and weakness will bring grave consequences.”

The enthusiasm in me to research on the rites and rituals of paranormal activities suddenly died. Violently too! I wished that the whole scene was a dream and the conversation that I just had with Pak Rashid never took place. In fact, I had wished that Pak Rashid was not real but only a character in my story and everything was only the visualization of my creative mind.

Run while you still can. It does not matter if it will make you look silly. This is silly business. Go now.

Pak Rashid’s trimmed and grey eyebrows rose in an arch. “You don’t have to go if you are not ready.”

I looked away from him, frightened my eyes would betray me. “Can you tell me what happened that you need to go to pacify this restless soul?”

to be cont'd....

(Names of persons and places have been deliberately altered to maintain anonymity. The above entry has been published in this blog unedited - RA)