1
During the reign of King Rama VI, there was a happily-married couple who lived by the Phra Khanong canal: Maak the husband and Naak the wife. After a brief blissful life of marriage Maak was conscripted into the army whilst Naak was with child. Maak was sent to battle and was seriously injured. While he recovered elsewhere, Naak's belly grew larger and larger until it was time to fetch a midwife. The baby's feet were where the head should be, and so the labour was difficult and filled with pain. The pain was too much and Naak took her last breath while the baby was inside her. Her death frightened the villagers for Tai Tong Klom was one of the most violent ways to die and would create a horrifying ghost.
The news of Naak’s death failed to reach Maak, and when he returned home, he found his wife and newborn baby waiting. Maak’s life was fulfilled and he ignored villagers’ ridiculous calim that both his wife and child were ghosts. Those who had warned him were later found dead, no doubt spooked by Naak’s ghost. One day, while Naak was making Nam Phrik on the porch, she dropped a lime on the ground. She was unaware, while reaching her inhuman, long arm to pick it up, that Maak saw everything. He was horrified and realized he needed to find a way to escape.
One night, Maak told his wife he needed to relieve his bladder. He walked down the steps and away from the house to the toilet shed. A big, earthen jar full of water stood in front of the shed. He had drilled a hole on the jar earlier and had plugged it with a piece of cloth. He removed the cloth and ran away, hoping that it would tricked Naak into thinking he was using the shed. It was sometime before Naak got suspicious, came down the house to check on Maak, and learned that he had fled. She searched for Maak and chased him until he hid behind a Blumea bush – one of the plants ghosts were afraid of. Angry and frustrated that Maak was out of reach, Naak took her revenge on the villagers. Maak sought refuge at Wat Mahabut hoping that the temple’s holy ground would keep Naak away, but Naak was too powerful for mere monks to handle. Naak’s notoriety spread across the country and with it came dozens of ambitious witch doctors. None of them was able to defeat her until the final, most powerful witch doctor was able to stop her by trapping her soul in an earthen jar.
That was the end of the story, or so they said.
Some say the earthen jar lay at the bottom of the canal for a few years before some villagers' net brought it up to the surface. The seal was broken and Naak's spirit was freed again. The haunting resumed and the villagers lived in fear until a renowned monk came. It was said that Somdet Phra Phutthachan, more commonly known as Somdej Toh, had magical powers and sacred amulets. It was said to be a fierce battle of forces between good and evil, but the monk eventually won. He told the villagers not to be afraid of Naak's spirit anymore. They asked for proof and he showed them a thin, flat piece of bone with strange markings. It was Naak's frontal bone with her spirit enclosed under charms, he said. The Ghost of Phra Khanong was gone and the villagers have lived in peace since then.
2
I see changes throughout the centuries, yet essentially, people are the same. Love, greed, anger, and passion still govern the way people live. Phra Khanong used to be an accursed place where only desperate villagers lived.
The legend of my haunting spread far and wide into songs and stories of a vengeful spirit and her undying love for her husband, Maak. The most recognised scene people remember is of me sitting on a pier by the river singing a lullaby.
‘Oh la he, oh la huk,
Duangjai kondee lukja,
Deuklaewna, saengdao sawang sawai,
Duangjai yaguan maelei,
P’Maak, hua-og mia rao,
Avon alai ram ha,
Peerangpai, maikei penhuang penyai,
Mayiew maya, Maak ja,
Oh la he, oh la huk,
Nawnsia jongnawn lukja,
Pawpawma laewmaejaploog,
Luknoi gloyjai teun aei.’
The song was not just for the baby. It was a call for my husband, a conscripted solider, to come home. It was my promise to wait for him, even in death. He did finally come back, for a while, before an incident involving a lime made him realised that my child and I were ghosts. When he left, all hell broke loose. The more you loved, the more you hated, as the saying went. It was a wild, dark time for me. Not anymore.
They built me a shrine to appease my spirit at Wat Mahabut, where people believed my spirit was vanquished by Somdej Toh, the most famous monk of the time. They imagined a supernatural battle between good and evil with magic spells and spiritual powers. I wish I could explain to them it was just a serious, long conversation. A heart-to-heart talk; negotiations that led to an agreement. I regretted the havoc I had created with my haunting and had come to terms with life as a ghost without my beloved Maak. The monk, in turn, promised that no witchdoctors would bother me again once he told them and the villagers that I would not cause troubles anymore. All was well. Then, the legend spread by word of mouth and a shrine was erected to appease my spirit. I was hoping for a modest but graceful clay statue. Instead, the bronze statue sitting in a lotus position was bald and had a bland face. Fortunately, someone with a woman’s touch added a black, straight, wig, drew a pair of eyebrows, and painted the lips red. The result was far from professional but at least it was an improvement. As time went by, the offerings also improved. Beautiful dresses and cosmetic goods became popular among worshippers. Others would add little baskets of toys for my stillborn baby. As far as the daily existence of a spirit went, it was not as unpleasant as I thought. To see various people with different problems coming to the shrine for blessings and guidance amused me. How they worried so much about little things puzzled me. Even so, when it came to love and romance, I could not help but feel for them. Perhaps the shrine’s medium could sense my empathy for people in love because more than half of the shrine’s visitors were couples and young women. None stuck in my mind except one couple: a man whose face was similar to Maak called Ming, and Noon, a woman who would do anything for him just like I used to. I observed them a few times. I could hear their prayers but there was a limit to what a spirit could do to save a relationship.
Today, the couple appeared at the shrine. Ming coughed when he walked past a lingering cloud of incense smoke. Beads of sweat clung to his forehead until Noon wiped them away with her handkerchief. He pushed her hand away and walked briskly to the shrine as if to get it over with. Noon pursed her lips, held on to the handkerchief tightly, and almost cried but did not. She paid an old lady at the table nearby for two sets of candles and unlit incense sticks and followed him.
They sat on their heels in front of the shrine with a candle and three incense sticks, lit and ready for prayer. Their eyes closed, praying. After a few seconds, he finished. He waited and waited for Noon to finish praying. She was frowning with concentration. He lost his patience after a few minutes had passed. ‘How many wishes are you making, Noon? A thousand?’ Ming’s remark was loud enough for others to hear. Noon’s cheeks turned red, but she kept her eyes closed. When she finally opened her eyes, he snatched the candle and incense sticks from her hand and dumped them on a bowl full of ashes in front of them. He bolted across the lawn without waiting for her until they were back at the temple’s courtyard.
‘Do you want some Coke and ice, Ming?’ she asked tentatively.
‘Yeah. And a bag of crisps, too,’ said Ming, not looking at Noon.
The whole scenario did not surprise me, but today it seemed like Ming and Noon had reached a breaking point. I watched Noon walk swiftly to the nearby kiosk like a loyal servant, like me in the past; so ready to please her loved one. So much love to give with only little gratitude in return. I watched her and saw myself running around the house, making sure Maak had everything he wanted close at hand after coming back home from the war. He was pleased and never suspected that I was already dead, that the baby in the crib was just a husk of an infant that would never grow. I was the ideal wife with great love and loyalty to my husband without ever considering a probable, bitter ending if he found out the truth. In the end, the monk helped me come to terms with who I was – a ghost. When that happened, I could see the chain that bound me to the world. It was not Maak. It was my refusal to let him go. In the end, I felt lighter, but I was still embedded in the world.
I might never know the reason why my presence still lingered in the world of the living, but I was put here, now, to protect and to guide those in need. So, the question was what to do with the couple.
While Noon was queueing for her drinks and snacks, I appeared behind her as a withered, old woman with a grey bun.
‘Aiyah! Too hot for an old woman like me. Oh! The world is spinning.’ I pretended to faint.
Noon turned around and stopped me from falling.
‘Auntie, are you all right? Do you need a doctor?’
‘No, no. I just need to rest.’
She took me back to the bench where Ming was waiting. He did not move from the bench until Noon signalled him to stand up and helped me.
‘Could you get a bottle of water for me, Ming?’ she asked.
‘Eh? Okay. And where’s my cola and crisps?’
‘I had to help Auntie here. Could you please get the water now?’
He walked away, then came back with a bottle of water which he gave to Noon. Holding a bag of crisps and a can of cool cola, he looked at me, then at Noon and asked, ‘Is she all right now? We should get going. I have to pack my bags.’
She breathed in and out deeply. ‘I’m staying with her for a while. You can wait in the car, Ming.’
‘Don’t take too long, Noon,’ he said then walked away.
I watched her put her face on her palms and stayed in that position for some time while I was drinking water.
‘Sorry to bother you,’ I said. ‘You can leave now. I’m feeling better.’
‘It’s all right. We can sit together here for a while.’
‘But if your boyfriend is in a hurry…’
‘It’s fine. He can wait. He should learn how to wait.’
Noon closed her eyes. I saw her thoughts drift in the air. The flashing images of the thoughts were grey, and blurred unlike the clear, colourful ones she made in her prayer earlier. One of the perks of being a worshipped spirit is that I was able to sense people’s wishes and desires. These flashes of grey could be sensed more than seen.
‘Is everything fine, my dear?’ I asked.
‘Yeah, yeah. Fine. Yes,’ she said.
‘I’m old but my ears are fine. If you need someone to talk to, I’m here.’
She looked me in the eye, held my gaze for a few seconds then looked away and sighed.
‘I think we’re fine. I AM fine,’ she said. ‘I don’t know. It’s normal for couples to argue, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, I suppose. But is it always like this?’
‘Not always. But it’s getting worse. Not by me. No, I’m as cool as I’ve always been.’
‘Seems like he doesn’t want to be here,’ I said.
‘He’s just in a hurry. He’s leaving to study abroad tonight, and we promised each other to wait,’ she says.
‘Are you sure?’ I noticed a flash of anger in her eyes but when she saw my genuinely-concerned face, she stopped herself from lashing out at me.
‘I know I can wait for him but I don’t know any more if he’s going to come back.’ Noon paused before she said, ‘I asked Mae Naak at the shrine if Ming and I are going to make it, if I should wait, if he will come back. If she’s really a powerful spirit like other people say, will she grant me my wishes?
‘What do YOU think?’ I said.
Noon was silent for a moment. Eventually, her still expression twisted into a frown and quivering lips. She then started to cry and her whole cheeks were wet and red like boiled shrimps. I let her cry before I stood up and said, ‘All the prayers in the world wouldn’t help if his heart’s not with you anymore. Don’t spend your life waiting for him. He’s not the same guy you fell in love with. I suspect he’ll be gone from your life forever.’ Then, I walked away.
I found Ming at the car park and appeared before him as a young woman wearing blood-red lipsticks and knee-length black dress. I found the man’s car and knocked on the driver’s window. When his smirking face appeared, I said ‘Wanna go to a magical place?’
3
It feels like forever since the last time I was brave enough to take a leak at night outside the monk's chamber. In truth, it has been only a week ago that Joke, one of the temple boys, was haunted while he was in the toilet shed. Some of the strands of his hair have turned grey, and he is still spooked by the slightest movements and sounds. The constant fear of night time has kept the other temple boys and me on edge. Even the monks have become more tense and seem worried when their morning and evening prayers are interrupted. The temple's door has slammed shut by itself several times, while most nights, dogs keep howling. All their sacred chanting is to no avail. The abbot has asked for help from other temples. They said they would send someone.
The sun is burning on my neck as I sweep the leaves on the temple's courtyard. I hear a cough and I turn around. A monk appears at the gate and asks, 'Is this Wat Mahabut?' I say yes and ask who wants to know. His answer sends me down on my knees, palms pressed together on my chest. It is impolite to stare but I look up and have a quick glance at the person I presume is that someone.
I have always imagined Somdej Toh to be very old yet fierce and burly, like the name 'Toh' suggests, surrounded by servants and followers. Instead, the slender monk in his forties seems to be alone. He looks too ordinary to be one of the most respected monks in the country.
I stay quiet until his smooth voice says, 'Could you take me to the abbot?' I regain my composure and lead the way. When we reach the abbot's chamber, I wait at the foot of the stairs while he talks to the abbot. I am sure he is sent here to help with our supernatural problem and I am curious as to how he is going to handle the problem. Some say he is a collector of holy artefacts. Others claim he has Kuman Thongs – ghost boys kept for good fortune and protection. I imagine a trunk full of Kuman Thong dolls, holy water bottles, blessed uncooked rice, and other magical objects, but there is only a large, dark brown, cotton rucksack on his shoulder. An umbrella of the same colour protrudes from the bag. He looks just like any other monk on pilgrimage.
He comes back down after an hour and beckons me over.
'Luang Ta said I should tell you if I need anything. Is there a little-used building at some distance from the main temple cluster?'
'There's an old pavilion near South Gate that we rarely use. Why? Are you going to fight the ghost there?'
A little smile appears at the corner of his mouth. 'Are you afraid of ghosts?'
'Yes, but people say you're the best. So, I'm not afraid.' I sound arrogant, I know.
'Why don't you come by at midnight and see how it's done?'
I realise I have just dug my own grave. My temple boy's honour prevents me from running away then and there. I hide my panic inside and smile at him. 'I'll be there.'
I arrive at the pavilion before midnight with a bag of blessed, uncooked rice, candles and a spool of holy thread. I do not know the proper set-up for a ghost banishing ceremony, so I just draw square lines on the ground, put four lit candles around the corners, and string the holy thread along the square lines. When Somdej Toh arrives, he looks at the setup and then at me with a raised eyebrow. I just shrug.
Once Somdej Toh seats himself in the middle of the holy square, he begins chanting. Following three Namo Thassa, the Pali verses sound different than those I have heard before. They are shorter than Morning/Evening Prayers but longer than the Buddha-praising mantra. I find out later that it is a special incantation called Chinabanchorn Kata which is said to be invented by Somdej Toh himself. During the chant, my curiosity about the unknown spell is gradually replaced by a foreboding feeling with goosebumps on my arms as a proof that something unnatural is about to happen.
First comes the sound of rustling leaves and a breeze against the candle on the right corner so subtle I almost miss it. When the wind picks up, it becomes chilly and I can feel the hair on my arms stand up. As if on cue, the temple dogs begin to howl one by one, ‘Woof, Woof, Awoooooooo.’ I look at the monk who is unperturbed by the signs, and I feel more confident. I shouted ‘Keep barking, dogs. We know she’s here. Is this all you can do? Stop teasing us and show yourself!’
All becomes silent. I blink and suddenly see a woman with long, dark hair in a strapless top and Chong kraben. I yelp and pee a little. This is the first time I have actually seen the ghost in person. Her figure is clear but not solid. It shimmers in the air as if she is fading in and out of this world. Somdej Toh had opened his eyes and stopped chanting.
‘Yom Naak?’ He asked.
She tilts her transparent head to one side. ‘Naak, yes, a life ago, who wants know?’ she drawls in a high-pitched voice, black eyes darting back and forth between Somdej Toh and I.
‘I am Somdej Toh. The monks and villagers are terrified by your haunting. Would you kindly stop harassing them?’ He speaks calmly as if he is talking to another sane human being instead of a ghost.
Naak does not respond. I don’t know if she pretends not to hear us or, as the saying goes, turn her ears against the wind. I wonder if she still has ears to use and if not, which part she uses instead. Then Somdej Toh asks, ‘Is haunting people your way of getting your husband, Maak, back?’
She hisses at the sound of the name. Her expression changes into that of a snarling beast. Her mouth gapes wide with bare teeth as she curses so loudly they echo in my ears. I cower in fear behind the monk and wonder how he can still look so calm. Naak’s rampage is like waves hitting Somdej Toh’s invisible wall until it subsides, and then she is calm again. They stare at each other for some time. Emotions battle on her face while the monk keeps a straight face. I do not know how long they are like that for I am suddenly overcome by drowsiness and I close my eyes. The last thought I have is the impression that they are having a conversation in their minds since their mouths do not move. Or perhaps they are now communicating somewhere else, a place that exists between the living and the dead.
I do not know how long I nod off for until Somdej Toh raps my head gently with his knuckles. I wake up and see that the dark sky has turned purplish blue. A ray of light glimmers in the air in front of me for a second, but when I rub my eyes it is gone. Somdej Toh has black circles under his eyes, but apart from that he looks unscathed. He walks out of the pavilion and I follow him in silence. When we are outside the building where the abbot lives, I cannot not keep my mouth shut any longer.
‘Did you get rid of her? Has she gone to heaven or hell? I shouldn’t have slept but tell me, did you do it with a magical spell or your psychic power?’
‘I’m tired. Can’t this wait?’
‘I want to know. Please.’ I plead.
‘I just reasoned with her.’
‘Not a chance. People won’t believe it. How do you know she won’t be back?’
‘She won’t. Monks can’t lie. End of discussion.’
‘No, please. What if by chance she came back? We need to be sure we are safe. I need to know.’
‘Stupid kid. Stupid people.’ He sighs. ‘All right. Do you know the local undertaker?’ I nod. ‘Ask him where Naak’s body was buried and bring the bone of her forehead back to me.’
I gasp.
‘Be off with you!’ He waves his hand and walks up the stairs to the abbot’s chamber.
Two days later, I finish the dreadful task and present the bone to Somdej Toh. He draws some lines and symbols on the bone’s curved surface while mumbling and when he finishes, he presents it to the abbot and me.
‘This relic is called Pan Neng. It confines the spirit to the owner, which is me, so the spirit can’t roam freely.You can tell the others it’s over.’
I can finally breathe with relief when I see it is done with my own eyes. Somdej Toh drills a hole on the bone, threads a string through the hole and ties it to his waistband. The abbot showers him with praises. On the day of Somdej Toh’s departure, the news has spread and a flock of people, monks and seculars alike, gathers to see the most venerable monk who brought peace back to Phra Khanong. Somdej Toh’s farewell is brief since he has forbidden any kinds of celebration in his honour. The abbot asks Somdej Toh if he needs an escort, and his answer is no. He says by doing good deeds, he will be protected from harm. Then, he walks away, leaving only dirt footprints that vanished in time.
THE END
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