ARE YOU READY FOR "CHOARAILS"...
Adnan Rana
stories of my chest, while I still have some time.
BACKGROUND ON CHOARAILS:
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These beings are native to the Sub-Continent ONLY (from what I have read
and heared about them).A CHOARAIL is a female BUD^ROOH (Evil Spirit), that
usually haunts men.She is often able to transform herself into a beautiful
young maiden and lure the men to a secluded spot where she does away with 'em.
The women in this part of the world wear a black veiled BURKA( its supposed to
be worn like a raincourt over your regular clothes, to cover yourself from the
"lustful" gaze of men.It was quite common a few decades ago and still is among
the devout Muslim families.) so if you happen to be walking late at night and
came upon a black hooded figure headed your way you would not necessarily run
off in the opposite direction screaming for mercy...
The CHOARAIL therefore has a smashing time disguising her voice through the
black cover and leads men to believe that they are in the company of a loved
one, when in fact they are being led to their painful demise.But there is
justice here 'cause there is one way to determine the true identity behined the
veil.The CHOARAIL cannot transform one physical characteristic and that is her
feet.You see her stinking feet are always pointing SOUTH! no matter what shape
or form she is in at the time.So all one has to do is take a good look at her
feet or her footprints and you know if you are in trouble or not.
Anyone who knows about a CHOARAIL (and almost everyone does) knows this chara
-cteristic, but the trouble is most men are so captivated by her charm and
sometimes her manifested beauty that they almost always forget to look.
Lonely, young and handsome men are the staple diet of the CHOARAILS.
Its common for a woman to label the other woman in her man's life as a
"CHORAIL", because likewise she is preying upon her man.
There are (2) stories that I can recall right off the bat which were told to me
first hand by the person who had contact with the above mentioned beings and
which I myself experienced.
1) THE OL' HITCH-HIKE TO HELL:
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There is only a single road that connects the city of Karachi to the Internat
-ional airport.This road stretches over 15 miles and connects to the airport
which itself lies outside the city limits.Here around the airport population
is rather scarce and its lightly wooded.There is a single bridge that hangs
over a stream and our story revolves around it.
You see according to the legend hitchhiker was picked up, raped and her body
was thrown off out of a moving car onto the bridge.
This "story", is quite believable because people usually do hitchhike on that
stretch of the road.As evening falls the shadows get lankier and a strange
silence falls over that road.Light poles are few and far between because
electricity is still a scarce commodity in that part of the world.
So the only things you see are the ones picked off from the headlights of your
car.Usually people race through this part trying to get to the airport in time.
My friend used to work at the airport and his 8 hr. shifts began at 6 O'Clock
in the morning or 12 O'Clock at midnight.So he would frequently be travelling
on that road at night.One Nov. night according to him, as he was making his
way to the 12:00 midnight shift he came upon a black hooded figuer trying to
flag him down for a ride.At first he was scared but he thought maybe someone
was in need of help and maybe he could help.So he stopped and asked what the
trouble ws and inside the BURKA a woman told him that she had missed the last
bus and needed to get back home.She asked him if he could give her a ride to
the next connecting bus station from where she could get a bus home.He agreed.
This woman sat behined her motorbike and he asked her to keep her feet off
the exhaust pipe or she might get burned.A mile into their journey he glanced
back to see if she had her feet on the bars and what he saw (he said later)
made the blood in his viens turn ice cold.The woman had NO DAMN FEET sticking
out of her legs that he could see.Now they are riding into the cold blistery
night and he is wishing he could chuck this woman off his bike.All he could
think off was how he was going to die that night at the hands of the famous
airport CHOARAIL but was too afraid to do anything about it.She apparently
couldn't make up her mind as to which bus station she was supposed to get off
at.With each passing mile he said his life flashed before his eyes and he
imagined a hand creeping up around his neck any second.But nothing of that sort
happened.He stopped at the last bus station and she quietly got off and slipped
off into the deserted bus station without saying a word to him.
He took one look at her footprints (and he swears)...they were turned around.
He had the motor running and he just let it fly, out of there like a bat out of
Hell.He turned around, came straight home and then wouldn't go back to work
for days.Finally after a year, he managed to switch jobs to a place inside the
city and no longer has to commute to work.He is a devout Muslim and says that
his devotion to God saved his soul that day.
2) HAUNTED IN YOUR OWN HOUSE BY A CHOARAIL!
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Now this is true because it happened to me and you are getting this straight
out of the horse's mouth.Now first of all about our house...
My dad chose the present site when the land was occupied by a gypsy Hindu
travelling band of professional dancers and musicians ( Yeah musicians haunt
with a Beat).There were only two houses at the time and a few yards away was a
graveyard.Yes an old graveyard which we could plainly see from our second story
I guess that's why he got such a bargain price on the land.Anyway the story has
it that one of the guys in the band, in a jelous rage killed his wife and
threw her into a pit.That pit later was to become the site of our guest bed.
I was 5 years old and to this day when I think about it ( and while I am typing
this) I get cold chills.I remember sitting on the ledge of that pit with my
younger brother and I heared a woman calling out my name from the black bottom
less pit.She wanted me to jump and she raised her dark brown hands out of the
murky depths to catch me.I wanted to jump into that tank but my brother who was
a year younger, wouldn't let me.
Anyway about 10 years ago sinister things started to happen at our house.I was
on winter vocations from school when they first began.It started with things
like keys and jewellery being misplaced only to be found deep inside a bag of
old clothes.We have iron bars over the walls and at 3:00 AM somebody would
start shaking them violently, which would wake all of us up.Now had it been
a burgler then shaking that thing for 5 minutes would be a self defeating
act.
We would hear the chink of the PAZEEB (an eastern foot bracelet that makes a
sound when you walk) which nobody we knew of wore.Then food began to literally
dissappear out of our kitchen.One evening my mother who had grown tired of this
decided to prove to everyone else in the house, through an experiment.
We locked and bolted every door and window and decided to leave a bunch of
counted bananas on top of the fridge, as we left to dine outside that evening.
When we returned there were 3 bananas missing from the bunch!.Everything was
still as secured as we had left it.Even my dad the ultimate skeptic couldn't
provide a reasonable explanation for this phenomenon.
But the most incredible thing happened to my younger brother, he and I were
(around 11 and 10 years old) on one of our discovering missions in a store
right next to the guest room, where all of our comforters and the like were
stored away for the winters.
Inside that store was a stairway that led to the attic.It was 3:00 PM and
we were trying to make our way up to the attic door, my younger brother was
in front when he rounded the corner of the stairs and I could no longer observe
what he was up to.Suddenly he screamed at the top of his lungs and came
bounding down the stairs.Just as he rounded the bend he fell down and tumbled
the rest of the way down the bottom of the stairs.Like lightning he stood up
and raced out of the store screaming.Now this scared the hell out of me and I
too raced out there not looking back.
He was quite upset and later told my mom that as he had rounded the bend he
had been looking at the toy in his hand and when he looked up he saw an ugly
woman in black who put her palm against his forehead and pushed him back, away
from the stairs.My mother went up and checked out the attic and she tried to
take him up but he wouldn't budge an inch.Later he never would feel comfortable
in that store and never slept one day in the guest room.
It was then mutually agreed that the damn house was cursed and we needed to
cleanse it of whatever was hanging on to it.So we did some commonly accrediated
counter measures and lo and behold no more hanky panky of any kind.
By the way we had a portrait of the Mona Lisa in our drawing room (opposite the
store and guest room) and when you looked at it passing through the entry at
night, its cold stare would freeze anyone right in their tracks.At night in the
dark it used to come to life with the light of the moon through the drawing
room windows striking it just the right way over her face.The guests had
trouble sleeping in the room (over the pit) opposite the drawing room for some
reason.Anyway that picture was history after that and later I moved into that
room and had no trouble sleeping there.
mOOn
/ /
/ /
------------/---/-----------| ENTRY |----------------------------
/ / | | | ATTIC
/ / DR | | /_/
M / / | | STORE /_/
-| o / | V STORE /_/___
#| n / DR |
#| a | |
-| | |-----------------------------
L DR |
i | GR
s | GR
a | GR
| |
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:::HOUSE PLAN:::