Warlock

by Vickram E Diwan

  The intoxicating smell of Motiya (Jasmine) flowers mixed with ganja made him feel drowsy and his eyes became heavy. He did not know for how long he lay like that but his half-asleep was broken by whispers. With half open eyes, he saw a group of men, who had entered the graveyard like thieves and were feverishly looking all around. The intruders could not see Mangu, who lay hidden in darkness. He saw a body in white kafan (shroud) that the men had brought with them. They tried to dig a grave to dispose of the same but the barking of dogs of the farmhouse made them change their mind and they left halfway through their task, abandoning the body.

  Mangu again dozed off; until a screeching noise made him came out of his drug-induced inertia. Like a paralysed-idiot he just saw; without understanding or reacting. A tall man wearing a black robe with a hood and a strange golden mask on his face was holding the leg of the body abandoned earlier by intruders. He dragged the body by the ankle towards the broken baad and went to the direction of the farmhouse. Mangu could only wonder who the strange man was and what he intended to do with the corpse...

  The Warlock had completed all preparation for the Shav-Sadhna - the dangerous Tantrik Sadhna (procedure) of using a corpse to attain black magic powers. The corpse that he had stolen the previous night from the cemetery was lying in the middle of the ‘temple of darkness’ on the night of new moon (Amavasya). The glass pyramid on the terrace of the farmhouse building was not complete; the cone at its top was missing, from where the sky above was visible. The floor was made of stone brought from various graveyards and sacrificial sites and had been smeared with the ashes of funeral pyres.

  In the South or direction of Yama (Death) was the huge 10 feet high structure of the patron deity of the Warlock. The stone-deity made of rough, unpolished stone was of Baal or Moloch - the patron deity of the occultist, who accepted a human sacrifice in general and small children’s sacrifice in particular.

  Next, to him,was a smaller statue Shamsan Tara made of shiny stone. The idol was of blue colour and the face of the Goddess was ferocious and angry. She wore a skirt of tiger-skin and a girdle of severed human arms. Blood was oozing out of her thirsty and lolling red tounge and she wore freshly severed human skulls as her garland. A cobra was coiled around her matted hair and in her four arms, she carried a sacrificial sword, a severed head, a blue lotus and a flaying knife.

  The use of both reflected the duality of Warlock, who was an aderent follower of both Western Occult or Stananist tradition and the Indian Vam Magra or Tantra. He uses them alternatively or interchangeably as per his need. For sacrifices, he involved Baal or Devil, while for tantric activities, he submitted himself to Shamsan Tara.

  As taught by his dead Tantrik Guru; he prepared for the Shava-Sadha (corpse-procedure); which was one of the toughest of all Tantrik practice. The naked body of the beautiful and young Muslim girl was lying on the stone floor, inside a pentagram made of yellow and red colour by making use of haldi (turmeric) and sindoor (vermilion) respectively. Various other things like black lentils, rice, flowers, sandal-paste, gandha (perfume and sandal), pushpa (flowers), dhupa (incense stick), liquor, animal bones were also liberally used inside the pentagram and in the circle made of white chuna (limestone powder) that had been drawn around the pentagram. He surveyed the preparations and with bold steps went to in front of the idol of Baal - his deity in Hell who always protected him - the child of evil-destiny. He stood with closed eyes meditating and praying before Baal for a few minutes. Such was his concentration that he became oblivious to his surroundings while in prayer.

  He slowly opened his eyes...it took him a while to come back to the present. He blew off the 1 inch thick black candles that were burning before Baal, which plunged the pyramid into darkness. The Pyramid was made of glasses enclosed in black interlocking triangles of an iron frame that made up a huge pentagram. The flickering light of the panchmukhidiya (five-faced lamp) that was burning before the idol of Shamsan Tara - the female Tantrik diety of the cremation ground was insufficient to remove the darkness of the pyramid that appeared the abode of wandering spirits. There was the distant howling of animals and strange and scary noises of the demons that crave for human bodies or spirits that seemed to be closing in, provoked by the ethereal scent of evil and occult acts that had been initiated.

  The Sorcerer of black arts opened the rope that held the robe by his waist. The rope was special. It had been used to strangulate many victims and had thus become magically-charged. He pulled back the hood and raising his hands took off the robe from his body and threw it in a corner, followed by the Golden mask that he wore on his face. He was now standing stark naked in the temple of the dead. His body was well built and he had strong muscles with no extra or loose skin hanging at any place. His powerful hands and thighs had ignited and doused the lust of more women and female demons that he could even remember.

  In a mechanical manner, he kneeled down in front of the corpse and forcibly opened her mouth. It was not an easy task as rigor-mortis had set in and the body was stiff. He had to use all his strength to pull open the mouth; he put in a metal plucker between the jaws, lest the mouth of the corpse shut again. He poured oil into the open mouth of the dead body and the cotton swab, which he lit. The face of the corpse looked scary in the flickering light of the lamp that had been lit up in its mouth. He tied both the hands and toes of the corpse of the young Muslim girl.

  The Warlock picked up the magically charged talisman that his Guru had bequeathed to him before his death and wore it around his neck. It is a gold pentagram with strange engravings and some mantras etched on its surface. To control his senses and his fears, he drank country liquor, as per the tradition of his Guru. It tasted like rotten oranges mixed with Tincher, but he forced the liquid down his throat. Within 15-20 minutes the strong liquor showed its effect and all his fears, misgivings and nervousness was gone and he felt supremely confident. He sat on the dead corpse in the lotus position. The abhorrence and creepiness of sitting nude on the naked corpse of a girl were made tolerable by the liquor that was ruling his senses. None the less, he could feel the coldness and stone-hard stiffness of the corpse beneath his buttocks, from which it travelled across his body. He was again reminded what his Guru had taught him Real Tantra was nothing like what was depicted in movies and books. Real tantrik kriya or Sadhana was a 100 time more difficult and a 1000 times scarier and abhorrable. Only the strong-hearted with a will of steel could attempt and survive it. Compared to real tantra and real tantriks, the impostors who got themselves clicked or videographed doing Tantra were jokers doing a costume drama for the gallery of a gullible audience.

  Praying to his Guru and Shamsan Tara goddess for success and protection; the Warlock began to chant the prescribed mantra in a rhythmic manner. He was shaking his head a little as he tried to concentrate hard. As his guru had taught him, speaking mantra correctly, with the correct pronunciation was vital for success. He was using a rosary bead necklace to keep track of the number of times he repeated the mantra. Only after an hour of chanting of the mantra, he began to hear howling from outside the glass pyramid and the screeching of animals nails on the surface of the glass wall. This was followed by an overpowering stench of a rotting corpse and visions of long and hideous grave-worms crawling all over the corpse that had been ripped open.

  The Sadhak almost jumped out of his skin, when he felt a hand that brushed past his back suddenly. This was followed by a faint movement in the corpse, as if the dead girl was shivering with cold or fever. Many visions came before his closed eyes, such as visions of naked lustful and voluptuous women masturbating and inviting him to coupulate...but he persisted and continued with his chanting of the mantra. He felt that an animal with a thorn-covered body had come and sat in his lap; scratching his skin and genitals with its thorns. The corpse beneath him began to revibrate and attempted to escape but he sat firmly.

  ‘Jaine de, Jaine de mujhe!” Let me go, let go!” came out of the mouth of the corpse.

  But Warlock
persisted with his recitation of the mantra; ignoring her pleas. All of a sudden the eyes of the corpse open. She looked at the naked man sitting on her with contempt and hatred and she began to scream insults and swear at him; cursing him in foul language. She raised her hands and gave them shape as if she was strangulating someone. Immediately, Warlocks’ face turned red and the arteries of his throat showed and he gasped for breath. He felt that his throat was in an irongrip that was getting tighter and tighter. His eyes opened on their own accord and he looked at the corpse. Her eyes were bulging out, her face had turned black, her tongue had become blood-red and was hanging outside her mouth and she has tightened the invisible grip of her hands. Her breasts were rising and falling as she heaved and a yellow mercurial substance was oozing out of her mouth, nipples,and genitals.

  The intense hatred in her eyes, the pressure on his windpipe and the revival of the dead girl made Warlock fearful. He forgot the mantra and got up of the corpse to save him. Immediately the dead girl bouned up like a coiled doll and leapt towards her former tormentor. Simultaneously a section of the glass pane of the pyramid broke with a loud thud and a dirty pig rushed in that was reeking of sewer filth and that had two large teeth bulging out. The Sorcerer culminated his mistakes by stepping out of the protective circle.

  The moment he did that, both the corpse and the pig attacked him. While the naked girl sat on top of him and tried to strangle him, while the pig shoved his pointed teeth into his body. It hard pressed his hideous lips on the Warlock’s rib carriage; as if trying to suck the blood out of it like a vampire. The black-magician cried in agony and thought of his dead grandmother, an accomplished Witch, begging her for help. The grip on his neck kept tightening as the lifeforce was being sucked out by the pig. His last thoughts were pain, hatred,and humiliation before he saw an explosion of light and passed out.

  CHAPTER 6: THE MAN WITH TWO FACES

  All through the week, Payal kept busy in her Institute as both her acting and dance instructor tested her skills and talent repeatedly. In the end, she proved more than a match for the challenging tasks; both her teachers had to agree that Payal had God’s gift for acting and dance that came completely effortlessly. And the fast learner, which she was, Payal mastered all the techniques of presentation before a camera within the short span of that week itself. Unlike her foray into television advertisements and music video, where she had not given any thought to the camera; in the professionally managed institute, she learned the importance of facing the lens properly, a must for anyone hoping to succeed in television or movies.

  Rudolf Schönherr was absent for all that week; a circular at the notice board was put up of his inability to take classes because of his being busy at the shooting of his television show. Most of his female students moved around terribly disappointed, at that long absence of their favourite teacher.

  The only other thing worthy of mention as regards that week was that Abhay Batra had called Payal and took her and her friend Shalini to Pizza-Hut one evening. Her woman’s instincts had warned her that he was getting serious about her, the way he looked at her with admiration. She mentioned to him in a roundabout way that she was totally focused on her career and was not interested in a marriage like other women of her age. She became apprehensive that he may start pestering her regularly for dates, as a prelude to proposing to her.

  It was only on the last day of the week that Rudolf Schönherr showed up to conduct his afternoon dance class. And it didn’t take very long, for Payal to notice, that she was the focus of his attention. He brought her out of the group of students and told her to stand beside him. As the music played, his dance movements became more and more complex, faster and faster…until he seemed to have become a livewire, overflowing, overcharged with electricity.

  But in Payal, it seemed, he had at last found his match; maybe he too had come prepared for that very thing. What impressed him the most was that instead of blindly trying to copy or imitate his dance-steps, like all the rest of students, she actually improvised. Taking que from him and furthering the movements from there on, until she was as much leading the dance-class as Rudolf Schönherr himself.

  When the dance-class was over, Rudolf Schönherr asked Payal to come along with him. He led her to his bedroom on the first floor of the bungalow. He motioned her to sit on the bed, while he put a compact disc in the D.V.D., connected to a television. It was her own recording, the way she had acted before the camera in the acting classes of Ms. Rupali, in that week itself.

  Rudolf Schönherr paused the second when Payal was raising her hands in a dramatic moment, in the scene enacted between her and Mrs.Rupali. He turned to her, who sat on the other side of the double bed and asked, “Where did you learn to act that way?”

  “From nowhere, it just comes naturally to me,” Payal answered.

  “All big stars say like that,” he said laughing. “Anyway, Mrs. Rupali seems to be very impressed with your acting talent, says you can only waste your time here. She tells me that you have a natural talent and ability, which will only be lost, in an institute as such. In fact, she thinks that you are more than ready for going professional and has submitted that I find an appropriate role for you in a movie or television serial, using my innumerous contacts.”

  “And?” What do you think?” she asked candidly.

  “Millions of girls have the dream to become a star, almost every single one of the beautiful girl thinks that she can act, sing and dance well,” he said as he leaned on the bed. “Thousands try to make it in show business, and yet how many of them really make it? A mere handful; you know why? Because everyone has not got what it takes to succeed.”

  “I ‘have’ got what it takes.”

  “We will see about that. See you around kid. Take care.”

  “You too Sir!”

  An hour after that meeting, Rudolf Schönherr brought his Prado S.U.V. to a halt a few yards before the entrance of ‘Park Royal’ five Star Hotel near the business district of Nehru place. He had to wait only for a few minutes, before an old second hand ‘Ford’ car came from behind and parked in front of him, as his mobile phone rung.

  “Yes, Khan!” he said after looking at the new number.

  “I am in the Ford, come in any car,” he heard this reply.

  “What the hell! Give me the goddamn stuff and take your envelope!” Rudolf Schönherr said in an irritated voice.

  “There will be no deal on this moving road; I have to be sure that there are no cops around.”

  “I have a lunch date in the ‘Park’, I cannot keep following you.”

  “Take your car inside the hotel’s parking and give the keys to the valet, come outside and sit in my car; I’ll drive you only to Paras cinema hall which is nearby. It’s only a walking distance from here.”

  “I swear Khan, you’ll be sorry. I’ll ruin your name such that you’ll be totally erased from the party-circuit of this city.”

  “I’ll wait for only ten minutes,” said the man from the other end and hung up the phone.

  Rudolf Schönherr cursed him with the choicest of abuses and in a bad mood, he took his station wagon inside the driveway of the five-star Hotel. Handing the keys to the attendant, he walked out and sat in the Ford of Khan, who immediately drove away and stopped in the parking lot in front of Nehru place, right next to the ‘Paras’ Cinema Hall. After the attendant had gone away, giving him the token, he kept looking from behind the windscreen of the car, to find if he was the focus of anyone’s attention.

  “I’ll thrash the daylights out of you, you son of a bitch!” Rudolf Schönherr said angrily.

  “Don’t be a fool, one mistake and we’ll both be busted.”

  “You goddamn Afghani; you are an illegal immigrant and I can easily get you thrown behind bars.”

  “Have you brought my envelope?” he asked as his eyes moved carefully all around.

  Rudolf Schönherr took out an envelope stuffed with 2,000 rupees currency notes and threw it toward the dope-de
aler. “Where’s the goddamn Coke?”

  “It is under your seat, “replied Khan.

  Putting his hand underneath the seat, Rudolf Schönherr found the small packet, which he put into the inner pocket of his blazer and opening the doors of the car walked away with long steps. The Afghani drug peddler immediately drove away, without looking in Rudolf Schönherr’s direction. Walking past the ‘Paras’ cinema, Rudolf was near the Hotel, when his mobile rung. “Yes Rohit?” he asked as he was walking.

  “Where are you, big brother?”

  “Just outside the hotel; I’ll join you in the restaurant shortly. You order the lunch by.”

  “No, I’ll wait for you,” came the reply before the line went dead.

  Rudolf Schönherr nodded his head, switched off his phone, walked towards the main building of the upmarket Hotel. He reached the restaurant and saw Rohit, who waved at him. Nodding his head, he went in his direction and met him warmly, half embracing him. Rohit Mirchandani was his buddy, his chum right from their days in school. He was a man after his own heart; both the friends had been ‘big-bully’ since their early days and had struck a lifelong rapport; both were equally immoral and corrupt, although, in comparison, Rudolf Schönherr was the more aggressive, violent and freakish.