The Tree Dwellers of Char Mohammedpur

--Ziauddin Choudhury

Our childhood vacations in Sylhet were mostly spent in Usmanpur, primarily because our
Nani insisted that we make her place the base, and visit other places as necessary
including Char Mohammedpur, our ancestral village located some fifteen files away from
Usmanpur. Although most of my encounters and experience with the supernatural
happened in Usmanpur and adjoining areas, some did occur when we stayed in Char
Mohammedpur.

Our visits to Char Mohammedpur would last from one to two weeks. In winter months
the trip would require travel by bus followed by Rickshaws or by foot from the bus stand
about a mile away from the parental homestead. There were a few occasions I remember
that we took the trip in the rainy season by boat all the way from Usmanpur. The boat
trip through canals and beels swollen with flood water would take nearly all day. We
would have meals on board the country boats that were either cooked in the boat, or
carried from Usmanpur in Tiffin carriers.

Our paternal grandparents had passed away before my birth. The ancestral place was
home to my father’s siblings (two uncles and an aunt), and father’s other cousins. This
was a large homestead with several houses in a row with a large pond in front, and a
smaller one in the back. The most interesting and intriguing feature of the homestead
was a very dense wood in the back with a dirt road that meandered to the back pond. The
path would appear dark at day time also as the sun could hardly penetrate through the
dense wood, which was darkened by some very tall and aged trees.

For some reasons, sanitary I guess, the men’s lavatory in Char Mohammedpur house was
unfortunately located in the woods on the way to the back pond. I remember as a child a
cold chill would run down my spine whenever I had to visit the utility, even at day time.
In fact, my brother and I routinely avoided the place at night. And there were special
reasons why we did that. There were stories galore in the Char Mohammedpur house
about the Jinns or spirits that inhabited the tall trees, and who would descend on
unsuspecting passers by, especially at night.
This nocturnal fear was fueled further, and the belief that there were indeed scary
dwellers of trees in the backyard gained more strength after a very strange and sad
incident in Char Mohammedpur concerning one person who we loved dearly.

The Char Mohammedpur house had a number of domestic help of all ages, both male and
female. Their duties and responsibilities ranged from attending the domestic herd of
cattle, to cultivating vegetable garden to help with cooking, cleaning, and a host of other
household tasks. Among this crew there was one middle aged woman who was the
principal help in the kitchen for my aunt. Her name was Zaitun, but we called her Zaitun
Jhee, as it was the custom to call a domestic help either a Jhee or Bu. She was a very
charming and delightful person, and very dear to us all.

Although technically a kitchen help (since all cooking had to be done by our aunt at
uncle’s choice) Zaitun Jhee was actually a marvelous cook herself. Some of the dishes
were outsourced by our aunt to her because of her excellent cooking skills. These
included several types of bhartas and sweet dishes such as halwas and jelebis. One of her
special creations was Tosha Shirni, a type of halwa (made of refined flour, sugar, raisins,
almonds, and mounds of ghee) that is ubiquitous in Sylhet—specially in mazaars.
Although Tosha Shirni is only made on special religious occasions, Zaitun Jhee would
make it for us whenever we visited our ancestral home. This was one of the chief
attractions that the Char Mohammedpur house held for my brothers and me. I remember I
could eat one plateful of this delightful stuff as she would make this especially for us
when we visited Char Mohammedpur.

It was in one of our winter tours of Char Mohammedpur that we were sadly informed
about a strange, and inexplicable happening to Zaitun Jhee. She had been possessed by
the Jinn we were told. We did not know what it meant to be possessed by a Jinn, and
what happened to that possessed person; but we would find out soon.

We went to see her in the hut where she used to live. She was around, but she was not
approachable. There she was outside the hut, staring at the tree above her, and uttering
some gibberish, and clapping her hand as though to scare away some bird or animal. She
did not recognize us, nor would talk to us. We walked away sadly wondering how a
delightfully endearing person would lose her mind so completely.

The other servants and relatives, particularly females and children, explained to us that
one of the many evil Jinns that inhabited our trees in the backyard had taken over Zaitun
Jhee’s soul, and therefore she was acting that way. That many ojhas (a type of Voodoo
practitioner) were brought to exorcise the evil spirit, and that she was given many herbs
to get rid of it; but nothing prevailed. My father of course dismissed all this as hogwash,
and said she ought to be taken to the city hospital for psychological treatment. Sad to say,
Zaitun Jhee could not be taken to the city hospital as her relatives strongly protested
saying that a Jinn could not be gotten rid of medically, and that any attempt to do so
would enrage the spirit and it would certainly lead to her death.
That vacation we not only did not taste the sweet creations of Zaitun Jhee, but we also
left Char Mohammedpur with the sad knowledge that we might never see her normal. A
few months later we came to know that Zaitun Jhee had died, not because the Jinn had
killed her, but because she had taken her own life by hanging herself from a near by tree.

I did not visit Char Mohammedpur several years after Zaitun Jhee’s death. This was not
because her death was so demoralizing, but our visits to Sylhet had become very
infrequent. In our next visit to Sylhet, which would not happen until I was in College, I
went to Char Mohammedpur accompanied by my brother. My uncle and aunt were
delighted to see us, and as usual laid out a great fare at dinner. Missing from the menu of
dessert, however, was the Tosha Shirni, the signature dish of Zaitun Jhee. My brother
and I exchanged glances, but kept quiet.

I woke up very early the next morning with an urge to go the lavatory, which was still
located in the woods. I did not have that squeamishness of child hood, but I could not
help recollect the scary memories of that dense wood as I walked toward the lavatory
through the fog that was enveloping the trees on the way. I finished the job rather
quickly and was back on my way to the house.

It happened on the way back. I saw a human figure standing between two trees clad in a
saree. I thought this could be one of the domestic helps going to the pond to fetch water.
But instead of going to the direction of the pond, the figure stopped and turned toward
me. There, right in front of me was Zaitun Jhee staring at me with a smile. I rubbed my
eyes several types. It was indeed her! I stopped in my track, was nearly petrified and
speechless. With some effort I gathered my voice, and blurted out, Jhee, is that you? She
smiled, but would not talk back. But before I could decide on my next step, she
disappeared among the trees and in the fog that surrounded them. I looked around, rubbed
my eyes several times. No, she was not there any more.

Needless to say I came back home very excited. I woke up my uncle and aunt, and told
them about this very strange sighting, but they would have none of this weird fish story.
They thought I was hallucinating because I was obsessed with Zaitun Jhee’s memory and
the story of her death by hanging. Even my brother would also not believe this.
Eventually I also started to think that it could have been my over active imagination.
That was till before another strange happening a little later.

After my interlocutions with my uncle and aunt I went to the kitchen to have some water.
There, right near the copper water pitcher was a plate of Tosha Shirni. I looked at it with
some surprise, since it was not there last night among the desserts. I thought it must have
been prepared by aunt, and she had forgotten about it. I found a spoon, and took several
mouthfuls of this wondrous dish. It was not only delicious, it also immediately reminded
me of Zaitun Jhee’s cooking. Had I not known that Zaitun Jhee was long dead, I would
have sworn that it was her creation. I would have finished the dish, but stopped from
doing it as I thought that aunt would probably want to surprise us with the dish at
breakfast.
At breakfast later that morning I expected the missing Tosha Shirni to appear on the
table. When it did not, I boldly asked aunt if there was any Tosha Shirni. She looked
nonplussed, and said she had not made any. But I saw a plate in the kitchen with the
Shirni I replied, and so saying I myself went to fetch it. There it was, still lying on top of
the cupboard. My aunt had accompanied me to the kitchen. Her eyes looked at the plate
in disbelief. But I never prepared it, she said. The servants were called. No one claimed
responsibility for either preparing or placing it there. My uncle who had also followed us
looked at the plate and commanded that the plate be thrown away.

I looked at my uncle and aunt. I asked if I could throw the plate and the contents away
myself. My aunt looked at me incredulously, but agreed.

I took the plate outside to the wood, ate the fabulous Tosha Shirni to my heart’s content,
and threw the plate away into the woods. I knew who had made it, for I had met her early
that morning. After all Zaitun Jhee had prepared the Shirni for me. Should I not return
her favor by eating it?

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