KHEMJIRA, Chapter 37:
Khem watched the master’s retreating back as he walked back along the path with his black toolbox and the enchanted knife, until he was out of sight. Then, he turned to look at Luang Pu Kesem, his hands still clasped in prayer.
“You don’t need to worry about Pharan. Close your eyes and meditate, think of your parents and the Triple Gem.” After these words, Khem closed his eyes as instructed, and soon his ears were filled with the melodious sound of chanting that soothed his soul.
“Itipiso, Visesei
Issei, Phuttanameei
Imena, Phuttatangsoei
Isotang, Phuttapitii.”
Pharan halted at the cliff’s edge, his eyes clearly seeing the situation below, where hordes of forest and hungry ghosts were on the verge of breaking through Luang Pu Kasem’s glass barrier.
He knelt down, opened his bag, and took out four sections of rattan, planting them into the ground to form a square around himself, then tied a sacred string from one piece to another, creating a forbidden zone.
Once that was done, he placed a small incense burner on a tray, filled it with soil from the ground, lit nine sticks of incense, spoke words of apology to the spirits of the forest and mountains, and then inserted the incense into the soil, followed by placing two medium-sized candles beside the burner.
Next, he unwrapped the red sacred cloth tightly binding his grandfather’s magical knife, immediately feeling the aura of the dark arts and the anguished cries of the spirits trapped within, numbering in the hundreds.
One spirit, driven by pain, burst from the knife to attack, but was firmly held by Pharan’s strong hand on its face, which was covered in burn scars, and he said in a calm voice,
“Calm down, I’m not here to hurt you.”
This spirit locked eyes with Pharan for a moment, seeing in those deep, dark eyes a compassion that was hard to fathom.
“I’m…in pain, let…me…go.” The spirit said. Pharan, sensing its suffering, nodded in agreement.
“I will release all of you.”
Hearing this, the spirit’s tears flowed, longing for its family and homeland it had left behind so long ago; it had once been a soldier who died in battle. Being told it would finally be freed after being trapped for decades, its despair turned into hope, so it retreated back into the knife to await its liberation.
As Pharan gently touched the blade, the many agitated spirits began to calm down.
Then, he closed his eyes to focus his mind, his lips moving in chant to invoke the Emperor’s Mantra for the immediate release of these spirits.
“Na Mo Putthaya, Phra Phuttha, Trairatana Yana…”
Buddho, Dhamma, Sangho, Yathaputmona
Worship Buddha, Worship Dhamma, Worship Sangha
Akki-thanang, Varangandang, Sivali, Ja Mahatherang
The offering of fire, the best of perfumes, the elder monks,
I venerate from afar, I venerate the elements,
I venerate all beings.
“…”
“May the things I pray for be sacred and come true immediately.”
“…”
“Arahant, this is done by karma, bound by karma, let life go to a good rebirth, let every life and every spirit that has been bound in this thing, be reborn in a good realm, so be it.”
This enchanted magic knife seemed to have been purified until it shone with a golden light. Golden spirits, like flames, gradually emerged from it, from one to two, from two to three, until all one hundred and eight were released, scattering in all directions towards the places they longed for. Some went to find their departed loved ones, others returned to their origins in hell to atone for their remaining sins.
Pharan could have used the power of these spirits, but forcing all beings to yield was not his way of conduct. Thus, releasing them was the best choice.
Then, his ears caught the faint sounds carried by the wind, voices that ranged from young women, young men, to the elderly, saying:
“Thank…you.”
“Thank you very much, dear.”
“Thank you so much.”
In truth, not just anyone can do such a thing. To release so many souls, one must be pure from within, filled with true compassion for all beings. Such individuals are rare in this world…
After cleansing the dark magic involving trapping and using malevolent spirits, master then picked up the magical knife, holding it reverently with both hands as he closed his eyes again to perform what is known as “invoking the magical knife.” a crucial step before using it.
At that moment, the wailing of numerous spirits, including dozens of hungry ghosts and forest spirits from all directions, resonated so loudly that it seemed to shake the earth. Pharan remained focused, chanting the following mantra:
“Phutthang Raksa, Dhammang Raksa, Sanghang Raksa, Satru Ma Bidha Vinasha Santi.”
Upon finishing this chant, the dark sky began to show flashes of lightning, accompanied by thundering roars, serving as a warning to those who would commit evil to cease their actions.
After the invocation, Pharan then proceeded to chant the praises of the five divine weapons:
“Sakkassa Vajiravutthang (The weapon of Indra)
Vessavanassa Kathavutthang (The club of Vessavana)
Alavakathu Savutthang (The red cloth of the giant Alavaka)
Yamasanayana Vutthang (The eyes of Yama)
Narayanasangakkara Vutthang (The discus of Narayana)
Panca Avutthanang, Etesang Anubhavena…”
As he chanted, the glass barrier shattered into fragments, and the spirits surged forward in a solid wave of darkness, some running, some walking, some crawling with their arms, some whole, some twisted and broken, their stench of decay spreading for miles.
While chanting the praises of the five weapons, the magical knife in Pharan’s hand glowed. Gradually, golden lines identical to the knife’s design appeared in the sky, forming nine concentric circles that expanded to fill the sky, charged with static electricity and echoing with thunderous roars.
Pharan seemed to be drained of almost all his life force, his previous injuries resisting the power of the Buddha within him, causing blood to flow from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. Yet, he continued the chant, now moving on to the summoning of the gods.
“Sakke, Kame, Jara, Kirisukaratae,
Jantarikhe, Vimane, Tipe, Rathe, Cha
Kame, Tavonakahan, Keha
Vatthumahi, Kette, Bhummacchantu, Deva
Chalathala, Visame, Yakkhapandappanaga
Tithanta, Santike, Munivara, Janang
Sadavo, Me, Sunantu”
“…”
“I call upon the divine assembly, residing in the heavenly realms of Kama, in the realm of Rupa, the realm of Arupa, including the great Brahma, and upon the deities dwelling in mountains, caves, and celestial palaces, those residing in the royal island and cities, in humble homes and grand palaces throughout the countryside, and those who manifest in the shrines of the earth spirits.”
“…”
“Also, I call upon the deities living in streams, ponds, and all the greenery of the forest, whether equal or not.”
“From the Yaksha, Gandharvas , Garudas, and Nagas,
“Please gather here in this place.”
Invoking deities isn’t an easy task, nor does it succeed every time one attempts to do so, due to various factors.
The two previous times the invocation was successful were during the forest’s upheaval five years ago, when the deity invoked was Lord Vessavana, and the second time when Khem appeared, it was Phra Phirun and Phra Mae Thorani. Both times, the invocations were made with the intent to protect the entire village.
However, this time is different.
This time, he prays with the sole intention of protecting his beloved and desiring to spend his life with her until old age.
At that moment, the tattoo on Pharan’s back suddenly warmed, and behind him gradually appeared the seven golden heads of the supreme Naga king, also known as “Maha Ananta Phaya Nakarat.”
The Naga king, nearly five meters long, slithered to a stop just outside the sacred boundary, arching its neck down to shield Pharan’s head with its hood. Its tail, adorned with shimmering golden scales, coiled around Pharan’s territory like a magnificent fortress. Then, tiny drops of nectar began to drizzle down.
Pharan placed the magical knife on the red cloth and stood up, his calm eyes surveying the encroaching spirits.
The golden circle of knives remained suspended in the sky. As a hungry ghost’s hand reached for him, Pharan raised his right hand to his chest level and made a gentle sweeping motion.
Wheee!
A sharp, piercing scream rang out as the ghost was impaled by unseen golden knives, its spirit extinguished. One of the Naga’s heads then stretched out, opened its mouth, and swallowed it whole.
This sound momentarily stopped the wave of forest and hungry ghosts, but instead of fear, it drove them into a frenzy. One forest spirit tried to take advantage of Pharan’s stationary stance by diving from a tree, only to be struck by the Naga’s tail, turning to ash instantly. Everything happened so fast it was hardly visible.
Once Pharan had determined the direction, he raised his hand higher and struck down through the air in a straight line.
Suddenly, the nine rings of golden knives descended like a torrential rain, accompanied by bolts of lightning striking down.
Blood still flowed from Pharan’s eyes every second, and with just one strike, tens of thousands of malevolent spirits were obliterated.
Khem, sheltered within Luang Pu Kasem’s glass barrier, was unaware of the external events. He had been sitting with his hands clasped, listening to the chants for only a few minutes before his hands slowly fell to his sides, the clear vision fading, and then he collapsed unconscious.
At that moment, outside the glass dome, a figure appeared, a deity in pale yellow
Thai attire, her face strikingly similar to Khem’s. She looked towards Luang Pu Kasem with a plea for compassion, to allow her entry into the glass dome.
She was summoned from heaven by a man of great spiritual power, yet she followed the spirit of someone until she reached here. Upon seeing this boy, whose spirit was gradually weakening, she found him on the brink of life and death.
Though she couldn’t remember who he was, this child had called her to him. Not only was he gentle in nature, but he was also very cute, making her feel an immediate connection. She wanted to ask the senior monk for permission to approach.
Luang Pu Kesem, seeing their deep connection, allowed her to enter. Once inside, she sat down on the floor, lifting the young boy’s head onto her lap, gently stroking his soft hair.
Poor little one, burdened with such heavy karma, she regretted not being able to alter the fate that had been set by higher powers.
Her light brown eyes were filled with compassion. Something told her she was deeply connected to this child.
Even now, when our destinies no longer intertwine, the care and concern still linger in my heart.
“If you can return, may it be safely, but if you breathe your last, I will embrace your spirit myself.”
Khem heard a voice that seemed familiar, gentle like a whisper, too faint to catch clearly, but the warmth enveloping his body and heart made him slowly open his eyes to see that he was lying at the dock of an old Thai house from four hundred years ago.
The scene in front of him gradually became clearer. Khem’s eyes saw the bare, pale, lifeless feet of many people. He swallowed hard, his hands trembling as he clasped them tightly, then slowly stood up to face what he had been escaping his whole life.
Before Khem stood the male descendants of his mother’s family, all of whom had died young, dressed in their last worn outfits, their bodies standing stiffly, their eyes vacant of spirit, devoid of any warmth or emotion.
A chill ran down Khem’s back when he sensed someone standing behind him.
“Look at them closely, do you recognize who they are?”
Khem couldn’t move, only able to watch as a pale, pointing finger extended over his shoulder, compelling his gaze to follow.
The faces of people from the past superimposed over each of these figures, revealing another truth to Khem.
Indeed, all the descendants who had passed away were once part of that fateful event.
From Phraya Worasingh, who was the root cause of all events, to Lord
Phakdiwijitra, who was so enamored with power that he forgot virtue,
There were also the three legitimate sons of Lord Phakdiwijitra. Not to mention the seven close male relatives who stood by watching with indifference, without even a shred of compassion.
And it included all the servants in Phraya Worasingh’s household who had a hand in tormenting Madam-Ramphueng during her stay, sometimes nearly costing her her life, those who slandered her, and the servant who beat her to death.
Everyone had reincarnated into the same lineage to atone for what they did to Madam-Ramphueng according to the curse.
Now, only Khem remained alive.
“Do you remember now? You know well what you’ve done to me. Why did you think you could be the only one to escape?” Khem felt two icy hands slowly move to his throat and begin to squeeze.
Tears flowed from Khem’s eyes out of fear, and he swallowed hard before speaking with a trembling voice,
“That day…I and my mother, we didn’t…mean to.” Khem had to lie because
Lady Keskaew had threatened that if they did not comply, MaeYing Kaknang’s entire maiden family would suffer. Neither Khem nor his mother could defy her orders.
But the response he got was a scream filled with hatred that pierced his ears. Madam-Ramphueng’s form appeared before him, consumed with anger, before she lunged forward and gripped Khem’s throat with immense force.
“Liar!”
“…”
“Whether you and your mother intended it or not, in the end…my child and I had to die in agony! Do you think such a reason will make me spare you?
You’re dreaming!”
Khem gasped for air, his hands tightly gripping the pale wrists, struggling and resisting with all his might.
“The only way you all can atone for what you did to me and my child is through death, and only then will justice be served!!”
Khem slowly slumped to the floor, death drawing near with every breath.
In his final moments, Khem’s mind was flooded with countless memories of his life, both good and bad.
Though his life had been difficult, Khem was happy. He was glad to have been born as his parents’ son, to have chased his dreams even if he hadn’t reached the end, to have had wonderful friends like Jett and Chan, to have joined volunteer camps, and learned how to interact with others.
He had met Grandma Si and everyone in the village.
Ultimately, Khem was overjoyed to have met the master again…
Khem closed his eyes, weary and in despair, his heart silently repeating apologies with all his might.
“Sorry for being weak, I am…sorry…for only being able to struggle this far.” Now, Pharan understood some truths.
In truth, four hundred years ago, he was a significant military leader in
Phetchaburi, leading soldiers in battles to protect the nation. Even though it was his duty, he had killed many on the battlefield.
And the battlefield, or the place where the bloody events occurred, was this very dry forest.
According to principles, attracting such a multitude of malevolent spirits would not be due to the hatred of one ghost alone. Instead, everything that happened was interconnected karma, directly or indirectly.
Hundreds of thousands of magic knives created by Pharan flew through the air like a flock of birds, attacking and destroying the evil spirits under the command of his strong spirit, preventing them from climbing up this cliff.
However, some spirits managed to slip through. A black, ghostly figure resembling a soldier from centuries ago, moving with two arms and one leg, charged towards Khem, who was being held by the deity.
Before it could reach him, two child-like spirits, no older than twelve, appeared in front, blocking its path. Each used one of their feet to push against the ghost’s shoulders, stopping its malicious intent.
And before it could do more, several golden magic knives stabbed into its back, and in a blink, it vanished as if it had never existed.
Pharan could sense the spirits of Ekk and Thong, and then his ears heard the voice of an old woman not far away.
Sri Sri, the voice of comfort, come forth, my spirit…
Feeling the warmth he had missed so much, but the pain made it impossible to open his eyes, tears mixed with blood streamed down his cheeks. Pharan’s body, if not for the support of the great Naga king, would have lost consciousness long ago. Now it surged with immense strength. In the sky, nine concentric circles of knives formed before golden knives rained down again, causing agony to the malevolent spirits once more, and again.
Due to pushing beyond human limits, the agony in Pharan’s chest caused him to cough up a large amount of red blood.
Even though it was now midnight, there was no sign that the ordeal would end easily.
This was because the time of Khem’s birth was not now.
In the last gasp of Khem’s breath, Luang Pu Kasem’s voice suddenly rang out behind Madam-Ramphueng.
“That’s enough, layperson.”
Madam-Ramphueng paused, her grip loosening in surprise, not expecting anyone to enter this dimension. Even someone like Pharan, who had accumulated merit over many lifetimes, could not do so.
Moreover, to enter, one must have had a past connection, creating karma with her, and if that person was a man, they would have all died at 20 years old and become her servants. So, who was this person?
With this question in her mind, Madam-Ramphueng slowly released Khem to fall onto the floor, then turned to face the speaker.
Before her stood an elderly monk. Madam-Ramphueng tilted her head left then right, her white eyes with shrunken pupils staring at this monk with bewilderment.
“How is it that you can enter here?”
“…”
“Regardless, this matter does not involve you. Please leave while I am still speaking kindly.”
“The root of all these evils involves only one man and one woman. One has long died by your own hand, and the other is still atoning for their sins in hell, unable to be reborn. Is that not enough for you?”
Upon hearing this, Madam-Ramphueng lunged forward to stand just an arm’s length from Luang Pu Kasem, her eyes filled with resentment as she looked at him, the pain of her memories driving her nearly mad.
“They all must pay with their lives!”
“…”
“If they don’t want to die, then they must return my child to me. Only then will I be satisfied!” Madam-Ramphueng knew she was saying something impossible, as her child had already died.
Died right before her eyes.
Luang Pu Kesem did not take offense at Madam-Ramphueng’s harsh words. His eyes, clouded with cataracts, softened with compassion before he spoke:
“If you desire that, I will offer this child’s life in alms, in exchange for my own.”
Madam-Ramphueng tilted her head, looking confused at Luang Pu Kesem, wondering why he would offer such a proposal to her, and why she should agree to this exchange. But before she could say more, she was plunged into memories conveyed through the gaze of the monk before her.
From the day he first opened his eyes to the world, until he was six years old, Luang Pu Kesem knew he possessed the sixth sense, allowing him to see things he shouldn’t, like spirits. Haunted by ghosts from a young age, he developed a desire to eradicate these malevolent spirits from the world, disregarding the law of karma. Then, he met a man named Sek, who had similar abilities.
The two became inseparable friends from their teenage years, pledging to keep their ability to see ghosts a secret and to live like ordinary children.
They grew up together in vocational school, both good-looking and multitalented, becoming the object of affection for many girls. But as with any coin having two sides, where there were admirers, there were also those driven by envy, leading to conflicts with others.
The situation escalated until a critical moment when Luang Pu Kesem, as a young man, was shot in the back by rivals and nearly died. This forced both to resort to occult practices to protect themselves.
However, these practices, if used correctly, could benefit, but if misused, could bring great harm. One day, due to their feuds with their rivals, Luang Pu Kesem’s family suffered a calamity, resulting in the accidental death of his younger brother.
For Luang Pu Kesem, there were only two paths at that time: one was to delve deeper into black magic to seek revenge, and the other was to break this cycle of evil by ordaining as a monk for life to calm his own mind, otherwise, he would never find peace.
At that time, Luang Pu Kasem chose to ordain as a monk, having calmed his mind, let go of attachments, ceased creating negative karma, and strived to perform good deeds. After ordaining and adhering to the Buddha’s teachings for over fifteen years, he began to see visions of his past lives.
In one life, he was born as a fish in a lotus pond, in another as a heron, and in the third life as a human.
Madam-Ramphueng’s eyes widened, tears streaming down her cheeks when she realized that in the life before Luang Pu Kasem was born as a human, he lived only for a short time before being thrown into the river by someone.
At this very location.
Madam-Ramphueng took trembling steps backward to look at Luang Pu Kasem’s form more clearly, meeting his compassionate gaze.
What she saw was not a fabricated vision; everything was undoubtedly true.
That was why this monk could enter her dimension.
“Ugh, huh, my child.” Madam-Ramphueng collapsed onto the wooden dock, her strength gone, then crawled forward to prostrate herself at Luang Pu Kasem’s feet, crying out in a wail that seemed to tear at her soul.
She had been consumed by bitterness and resentment for centuries, with no way to rectify her feelings. No matter how many she killed, it could never replace the loss of her son.
In her life as a servant, she endured suffering worse than a living death. No one loved her, no one wanted her, and she never truly owned anything.
The one thing most valuable to her was her child.
Raising her child to grow up as happily as possible was what she yearned for until her last breath.
And now she had seen it.
Luang Pu Kasem, seeing that Madam-Ramphueng was softening, continued to speak:
“Do not create more enmity or karma. Let go of what you hold, and allow me to escort you.” Madam-Ramphueng slowly lifted her head and then turned to look at Khem, who was kneeling behind her, crying inconsolably just like her.
As her anger that had once clouded her vision began to fade, she realized that half of this child, in a past life, had helped her numerous times. Her heart, once filled with resentment, now returned to emptiness with a sense of resignation.
She herself was tired after all these years. Having received what she always wanted, she could finally let go.
Now, she only wished to spend a little more time with her child, to have a brief conversation, which would be enough. She clasped her hands in prayer and said to Luang Pu Kesem:
“Very well.”
“Then, please rise.” Upon hearing this, Madam-Ramphueng slowly stood up, and as they began to walk away, Luang Pu Kesem spoke to Khem, who was still in a prayerful pose, with compassionate understanding:
“Khem, do not think too much.”
“…” Khem clenched his lips tightly as tears began to flow once more.
“Everything was predetermined. We have no debts left between us. Hurry back now.”
As if those few words from Luang Pu Kesem had unlocked Khem’s heart, he sobbed with relief before bowing in gratitude to the monk.
Madam-Ramphueng followed the monk in his yellow robes with a heart now full of joy. The vision she saw was of a little boy in traditional Thai attire, holding her hand as they walked towards a bright path, accompanied by the sound of a single ankle bracelet’s bell ringing, soothing her soul.
Thus, the centuries-long resentment and suffering of Madam-Ramphueng came to an end.
…
At five forty-five in the morning, the gentle yellow light gradually bathed the vast sky.
Khem slowly opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the lifeless form of Luang Pu Kesem in meditation, his face serene and free from worry.
Khem gradually stood up from the ground. His body was still warm, not feeling cold, and there were no insect bites as there might have been, except for the exhaustion that felt like he had slept for many decades. He felt no pain anywhere else.
Khem started looking around but couldn’t see any sign of master, so he quickly bowed to Luang Pu Kasem, stood up, and half-walked, half-ran along the path master had taken the previous night.
His heart was pounding painfully in his chest, but it began to slow down when he saw the master walking back towards him.
Behind the master, the sun was rising over the mountaintop, its rays shining through the master’s broad back, blurring Khem’s vision. Tears of joy streamed down Khem’s cheeks.
Pharan, carrying a box, walked straight towards Khem, while Khem, running until his legs gave out, forced himself to stand and run to him.
At the same time, Pharan set the box down on the ground to catch the smaller figure rushing towards him and embraced him tightly.
Khem sobbed, his body trembling, returning the tight hug, seeing the blood stains on Pharan’s face.
“Master, does it…hurt a lot?”
Pharan’s head gently rested on Khem’s shoulder, shaking slightly to dismiss the question. The only feeling in his heart was the overwhelming joy of seeing that Khem was still breathing.
At this moment, the pain prevented him from speaking, so he could only tighten his embrace a bit more.
6:06 AM on June 6th
Khemjira had safely passed his 20th birthday and escaped the curse.
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