I woke up after three days. My whole body was swollen. I could not get up from the bed at my own or even take a single step without support. The same old man who worked at the hotel was looking after me. It took almost a month to recover. The old man told me that I got unconscious in the hotel where I was staying. He was the only one in the town who knew me a little so he brought me to his home. According to him, I was possessed by some evil spirit but I knew the reason of my condition. It was the first attack of the disease that I inherited from my father. He told me that I would start having its episodes at the age of twenty. He was right but I so desired him to be wrong with regard to its treatment. I did not want to consume blood and become a monster. I also knew that if I did not treat this disease in time then its attacks will become more and more frequent, and I will eventually be unable to get up from the bed. That will be the end of my life.

I had tasked Hakeem to find out the cure of my disease. He did his research and had told me once that there is probably some blockage in my brain nerves. The blood supply to brain stops temporarily which knocks me out of my senses. The blood supply resumes after a while but the damage done to my brain is permanent. It may be negligible in the beginning but as the time passes and duration of my strokes increase, then I might suffer from irreversible brain damage. He told me that he had read about this disease during his research. No cure has yet been discovered for this disease.

“But how come my father and grandfather got well after drinking blood,” I asked him.

“You should try black magic,” he said looking away from me.

I was a man of science and medicine and the solution sounded unrealistic to me. But then magic can do wonders.

Surprisingly, I still had all my valuables. I gave some money to the old man and asked him to check about the lorry driver who had taken Hashmat Khan and party to Firozepur. The old man brought me the news that the driver is missing since my arrival here.

“He is a Sikh and belongs to a neighboring village. He lives in this town and earns his livelihood by driving the lorry. He must have gone back to his village,” the old man told me calmly. He did not suspect anything wrong but I knew there was nothing right here. I suspected that the Sikh driver must have taken the whole group to his village where Hashmat Khan and his group might have been killed along with Shahzadi. I was not sure about it therefore I had to verify it. There did not seem any other reason for the missing of whole group. The old man warned me not to go the driver’s village as the whole village belongs to the Sikh butchers.

As I reached the village, it was almost mid night. I noticed some movement near the fields. I carefully got close to the place. It was a small hut built under the trees and a man was sitting outside with a watch on the water distribution point. He saw me too and thought that I was someone from the neighboring village who had come to steal water. He got up and took out his karpan. I, however, disappeared behind the fields. He kept looking for me here and there and returned to his place after a while only to find me sitting at his charpoy. He was an old man therefore I did not bother to hide from him.

“Sit down quietly or else I will slit your throat,” I told him in a cold voice and all his energy got drained in a second.

He sat down on ground and looked at me puzzlingly. There was enough moonlight to judge his facial expressions.

“What do you want?” he asked. He was old but was wise to understand that he can’t win a fight with me.

“I am here looking for Surdeep Singh. He is a lorry driver,” I told him.

“I know him well but what do you want from him?” he questioned me instead.

“Listen old man, you will answer my straight questions or this will be your last night,” I got up from the charpoy and took my knife out. He also got up from ground. He assessed the situation and then said frustratingly, “Ok, tell me what you want to know and then get the hell out of here?”

“Surdeep had brought a group of 11 Muslim men and a woman to this village in his lorry about eight months ago. I want to know what happened to them,” I threw a blind arrow and it hit the bull.

“We killed all the men. We cut their throats. We sliced their bodies into small pieces and fed them to our dogs,” he said in a chilly voice which froze me.

“You can kill me now,” he said in such a deadly voice that it brought me back to senses.

“What did you do to the woman?” I still had a hope for Shahzadi.

“Do you really want to know?” he was now enjoying my condition. In a flash, I snatched his karpan and put my knife on his throat. He started laughing like a crazy person. Then he paused and said while looking straight into my eyes, “We raped her first and then we cut her throat. And then we sliced her body into small pieces and fed her to our dogs.”

I regretted the moment when I had decided to come to this damn place. I was so disgusted and sickened that I started vomiting. The old Sikh was still laughing when I put my knife in his heart. I then cut his throat, sliced his body into small pieces and left him for dogs. I could hear sounds of hounds and hyenas when I started walking towards the road leading to Firozepur. I had made up my mind to come back here one day and take revenge for Shahzadi’s murder.

It took me another six months to recover from the trauma. It was a cold winter morning of 1951 when I came out of my room and walked into the lawn. Fazlo baba had turned it into beautiful garden. He was managing the things well. He had hired couple of more people including a gardener, a driver and a cook. There was good earning from the shops and houses which I had bought, and he was utilizing it appropriately to run daily expenses of Ayesha Manzil. I was talking a walk around when Fazlo baba appeared from nowhere.

“Welcome back,” he said smilingly. I smiled back at him. He knew I must have suffered some big loss but did not ask me anything.

“I can see that you are taking good care of the house,” I said in an appreciating tone.

“You are just like my son, and this is my house too. Isn’t it?” He asked looking into my eyes. “Yes, of course,” I held his hand and said reassuringly, adding, “Fazlo baba, I trust you with all my life. I would soon be going away and you know where everything is hidden. Please take care of my mother if I don’t return this time.”

Fazlo baba hugged me and kissed me on my forehead.

I had to find the cure of my disease before it damages me permanently. Hakeem had told me that besides drinking blood, the only other option left with me was to turn to black magic. The last six months which I spent locked in my room were enough to contemplate on the situation. Nothing remained of any interest to me. My mother regularly came to feed me and Kalsoom cleaned my room. She was a beautiful woman but what happened to Shahzadi repulsed every good thought I tried to have. I knew I would not be alright again till I destroy the whole village of Surdeep but I could not do it alone. I had to kill Nawab Sadiq too and I was too helpless to do it. I had to defeat my disease and the only solution which kept coming to my mind was in some super natural powers. The only person I knew who possessed these powers was Nazir Bux.

Nazir Bux proved to be a hard nut to crack. But I had my own way of convincing. He eventually taught me many magic spells like changing shapes, disappearing, reading and controlling the minds of people, communicating with animals, flying and various other real magic skills. The only thing he could not do was to treat my disease which was causing great damage to my brain. I stayed for two years with Nazir Bux and had a total of four episodes of attacks which weakened me a lot. I could fly and disappear but was hardly able to walk. Nazir Bux then referred me to his master who lived in Bengal. Nazir Bux went and talked to him but he refused to see me. He had seen my future. I was a monster to him who must be killed. He also scolded Nazir Bux for having taught me few magic skills. Nazir Bux came back and was highly depressed. I assured him that I would never use these skills to harm anyone. Then I returned to Ayesha Manzil and found everything as I had left two years ago. Fazlo baba was a good administrator. He had kept everything uptight. Instead of spending my cash reserve, he had saved a lot from the earning of shops and houses which we had bought around the haveli. He had also increased his helping staff. Everyone else there including my mother and Kalsoom were happy to see me. My mother got me married to Kalsoom who looked after me well. The disease was however killing me fast. I had to find a cure or start drinking blood. Kalsoom knew about an old man back in her native place who had taught medicine to Hakeem. He was a kind of wizard to her. Hakeem had never told me about him. One night when we were planning to go back to Fazilka, I suffered another attack. Instantly my eyes turned upward and my body started jolting. I knew it was the strongest of attacks. I was unable to see anything but I could hear screams of Kalsoom. I knew something was seriously wrong.

It, however, turned out to be my last attack. Kalsoom could not see me suffering and fed me her blood. I was a monster now who constantly needed blood.