I was on my way to see a friend recently when my driver, hesitant at first, informed me that he had been cleaning his room and had discovered two pieces of paper, weighed down under the bed. The papers appeared to be some sort of taweez (spell) to him. When I asked him whether he could decipher what was written on it, he replied that it appeared to be the names of our family. On my return home, I asked him to bring what he had found. There were two pieces of paper, neatly torn, with writing in Urdu and Arabic on them — definitely some sort of taweez. One, which appeared to be older, had my name and the names of my husband, daughters and the household help on it as well as the name of my former driver, whom I had let go last month. The second had my name with my mother’s maiden name and the name of my driver scrawled on it several times. I could make out the words, which stated that I should be restless with love for the said driver, pay rapt attention to him and agree to all his ‘lawful’ demands. Also, that my tongue should be tied in response to any bad language exhibited by him. I was incredulous. Then I burst out laughing. The gall of the man was both revolting and amusing, and not because of his background. It was, for me, preposterous to even think that a person living in my household would stoop to such tactics. My daughters had a field day, rolling around with laughter and reminding me that I had told them not to engage in any verbal exchange with him as a reaction to his dramatic tendencies. My husband, who has an innate sense of humour, decided to call our trusted friend who had sent the man and asked him to come over so that he could discuss how the jinn (demon) could be driven out of the beneficiary of the taweez! A few months earlier, my mother-in-law had gone for a stroll to check on her beloved chickens clucking away in the back lawn when she spotted a taweez hanging high up on a tree. A lot of commotion ensued and the offending object was removed and opened. Unable to decode it, it was mutually decided that it would be put in the canal. As for the possible suspect, it was decided that an employee who had left a couple of months ago had probably done it. It is amazing how much free time and money this nation of paupers has to indulge in black magic, taweez, pirs (shamans) and what not. I had a friend once whose in-laws probably had a doctorate in the stuff. She would be subjected to multiple taweez hanging around, buried in the earth of her garden or weighed down under furniture in her home. One day, she found a river of blood splattered across the gate, which she said must have come from the dead head of a black goat! She was often treated to nasty stuff — organs of various animals on her terrace and unexplained splatters of blood on her and her trusted maid’s clothes. Her husband had left her a couple of months ago and she was still living in the upper portion of the house, while her in-laws lived downstairs. This friend of mine did not believe in taweez or black magic. As the ‘attacks’ persisted, an aunt forcefully took her to a maulana ‘sahib’ (cleric). The maulana asked her to bring a shirt she had recently worn. The next day, she returned, along with another friend and the shirt. She was asked to lay the shirt flat on the carpet and measure it with her hands. She did as she was told. The maulana started to recite something and gestured for her to re-measure the shirt. To her horror, the shirt had grown in length. She was informed she was the target of black magic and that the maulana would require two goats and a special kind of bone to rid her of the ailment. In addition, she was given an egg, which was to be buried in sand, and put on the stove with the heat never to be turned off, and a piece of paper carrying her mother-in-law’s name. She was told to hit the paper with a slipper ‘x’ number of times, morning and evening. This she did, with immense delight! After a week of these measures, the husband started visiting her but then the ‘progress’ stopped. Another forced visit to another maulana, on the behest of a well wisher, resulted in the exact description of who had done the black magic. The solution was supposed to be a rooster my friend had raised, who was to be tied overnight to a spot in the house from where an unexplained foul odour emanated. The poor bugger who, even being a chicken was as healthy as a horse, was listless by morning. As per instructions, he had to be sacrificed at the same spot much to the horror of all those present. Green blood oozed out of the slaughtered animal. As the evil happenings persisted, someone else took her to another unnamed place. Much to her distress, she discovered that the man was an amil (witch doctor) who indulged in black magic. She was told that her mother-in-law had used owl blood to cause her separation. The amil explained that performing this kind of magic had resulted in the death of many in his profession. The procedure involved feeding whisky to the owl for 40 days while the amil completed a spell. After 40 days, the owl is said to speak in the human language, is slaughtered immediately and its blood collected. A two cc bottle is worth Rs 50,000 and, when used, can cause separation between spouses. She was informed that her mother-in-law, whom he described in intricate detail, had used this blood and had buried the taweez in human graves. My friend, reeling with shock, disbelief and horror, stumbled out of the dingy room, terrified and revolted to the core, and decided that it was best the in-laws had won! What baffles me is the rampant use of black magic and the unchecked growth of pirs, amils and magicians, with open advertisements on walls, newspapers and cable television networks. There are no specific laws, at least none that I have been able to find, which deal with such practices short of using vague and miscellaneous penal provisions. These people cannot even be taken to the consumer court, as they offer ‘non-professional services’! It is unfortunate that visits to such ‘practitioners’ are undertaken not only by the illiterate but also the educated; some for launching an offensive, others for defence. Many are familiar with African voodoo magic, which brings to mind images of dolls stuck with needles. It transpires now that we have to keep an eye on employees not only for terrorism, robbery and theft but also for a rendezvous with the dark side. As for my taweez: is it hocus pocus or gobbledygook?! The writer is an advocate of the High Court