mypajama.com is all about storytelling. Stories and essays are published at an alarmingly infrequent rate. Subscribe with RSS or via email.

The Djinn are spirits of light. Not light as you and I know it — but light as energy. They are in tune with the forces make the world go around. They exist on a level close to that of thoughts. This is why wish-granting is natural to them. As natural as picking up a pen or opening a door is to us.

Because of this, throughout history, Djinn have been drawn to the needy and the passionately desirous. What may appear coincidental to humans is merely the way of the universe to the Djinn.

This story starts in the near past, somewhere around you. Eighteen-year-old Raghu was returning home from school and stopped to take a leak in the bushes. A modest car came that way. From inside it, a harried looking office-goer threw out a vial. It landed in the roadside dust and glittered as the light from the car’s receding rear lights bathed it red and white.

Raghu picked up the crystal vial. He thought it was probably perfume. Faint white smoke swirled inside it. He uncorked it and there was a soundless explosion of white light. When his eyes stopped showing him butterflies and rainbows, Raghu found a strange-looking man standing in front of him. His skin was flawless and he looked too prosperous to be honest.

“You… You’re a…” stuttered Raghu.

“Djinn. Yes. One moment please,” the man took the vial from Raghu’s limp hands. Then he tossed it as far out as he could.

“I am sorry,” he said. “Long story. Some people are so numb they wouldn’t know even if their destinies came and bit them in their behinds,” he breathed for a moment to calm himself and said, “I am sorry. Tell me.”

“Tell… Tell what?” Raghu’s mind was speed-scanning all genie stories he had ever heard, read, or seen. His father told him the scariest ghost stories. Genies were never up to any good. Anyone dealing with them was a goner. They were risky business.

“Tell me what you want.” the Djinn said. He noticed Raghu looked all folded up. “My name is Kahlil.”

“I don’t want anything,” said Raghu, deciding to not get into the mess at all.

“You are afraid. I can understand. But there is nothing to fear. No catch. You will get what you want. No questions asked,” said Kahlil.

Raghu was petrified now. “I want you to leave me alone,” he said.

“That does not count as a wish,” said Kahlil looking at the floor. “The Djinn directives clearly state that we should pay back a hundredfold any good deed done unto us, knowingly or unknowingly.”

Raghu kept his mouth shut.

“You must want something. You can’t be happy. No man ever is. There must be something in your life you want changed,” Kahlil challenged him.

“I am happy,” said Raghu. But the mention of his life had touched him somewhere. This was not all light and magic after all!

“But…?” Kahlil asked encouragingly.

“I wish my math tutor would go easier on me. I wish I get into a respectable college after I finish school. I wish I pass with decent marks. I wish I get a decent government job after my studies.”

“That is… decent enough,” said Kahlil politely, and quickly added, “It will be done. Like I said - no tricks. Anything else?”

“No that is it. One should not ask a lot of life,” said Raghu.

“That… Umm… up to you,” said Kahlil. “To each his own. I will need to restart you for your wishes to take effect.”

“What does that mean?” Raghu asked, suspicious again.

“Your wishes depend on your own belief system. A thought-level shift can only take effect while you are inert,” Kahlil snapped his fingers.

Raghu dreamt of being a famous businessman till he woke up in bed, in his house, half an hour later.

* * *

Kahlil caught up with Raghu seven years later. He was outside his office, smoking.

“All well?”

Raghu nodded. All was well. He had a job. What more could he ask for?

“This is what you wanted?” Kahlil asked.

Raghu laughed. “You ARE for real. When I woke up that day, “I thought I had dreamt you up.”

“You wouldn’t be the first one,” said Kahlil. “Many people have trouble accepting the fact that wishes can come true.”

Raghu inhaled what must have been a gallon of smoke. It numbed him to his reality.

“All over the world, people are raking in obscene amounts of money. My neighbour bought a car yesterday. I will never make it. The world keeps crushing my will,” Raghu said and exhaled a cloud.

“You dreamt mediocre dreams Raghu,” Kahlil said. “You asked for just enough to get by. You got everything you wished for.

“We Djinn have to be careful about what we wish for, because our will is always done. You folk were not so different once. You people asked us for kingdoms and palaces. You used to ask for princesses hand in marriage.”

Raghu gave Kahlil a sour look. But he was not sour at the Djinn. He was just… sour.

“What went wrong?” Kahlil asked. There was no answer. Soon the Djinn melted into the smoke.

Posted on Friday, March 28th, 2008 at 7:14 pm and filed under stories.

Do you believe in destiny? Click here to read a random post.

I publish new stories and essays with alarming infrequency. To stay updated, subscribe to the RSS feed or get email updates.

Visit me at my new blog: http://www.vmohanty.com