One evening in the year 1960, grandpa who had reached the age of 57 cleaned a one-barrel shotgun on his veranda. Without warning he gently said to me, “Don't be a hunter.”

“Why, grandpa?”

He didn't answer. Grandpa continued to work on his shotgun. Then grandpa grabbed his silver golok (1). He sharpened the golok against a stone near the head of the staircase.

And I was still waiting for grandpa's answer.

“I don't want my grandchildren to become hunters,” suddenly grandpa spoke.

He sat back on the veranda. Hearing his words, I decided not to press him further. Grandpa had a short fuse. He easily got mad if he was persistently asked or questioned. He also didn't like people contradicting his words, especially from his children and grandchildren.

Grandpa was really good at hunting. Not many people in our village of Mandi Upeh was like grandpa. He was so obsessed with his hunting hobby, he had traversed almost the entire Dinding District's jungle. The villagers believed grandpa was not just any hunter.

He was a great hunter, a hunter with skill. If not how would he dare go into forests untouched by humans. Grandpa also didn't just take any shot he could. He would shoot right in between the brows of his prey. And every time grandpa would enter the forest, he would start with his left foot first. Both his heels wouldn't touch the earth until after five steps. After that, grandpa would stop as he chanted something, before breaking the twig under his right armpit. He would then throw the twig to his left.

Grandpa received his shotgun not because he was a Home Guard or Auxiliary Police. He himself applied for it from the government under the excuse of securing his fifteen acres of rubber and durian land from wild monkeys and pigs. Grandpa's application was approved by the British after policemen, head of district office as well as the village chief inspected grandpa's land. Grandpa bought the rifle from Taiping in 1949. Since then, grandpa had been hunting regularly with the shotgun. Before that, grandpa only hunted using traps and similar stuff.

There were plenty of strange incidents that grandpa experienced throughout his career. And I was one of the grandchildren who mostly heard grandpa's stories, as I often helped him at the farm, and sometimes accompanied him to the surau.

Grandpa really favoured me, because I was his first grandson from his first daughter. I knew grandpa's weaknesses and his favourites. He was charitable and enjoyed listening to Quran recitals. It was a coincidence that I was the grandson who was well known as a Quran reciter in the village. Grandpa was not stingy about donating some money to people who read the Quran, though grandpa didn't give it himself and instead gave it through me. Normally, if grandpa gave me ten ringgits (RM10), I would only give them half, as the other half would be safely secured in my trusty pocket.

There was a time when grandpa told me of a story when he and his friends entered a forest near Gunung Tunggal (2) in the Segari area near Pantai Remis (3). The area was never reached by humans. Grandpa and his friends managed to shoot several animals there. Because he was too absorbed in the hunt, grandpa didn't realize that he was separated from his friends because he was hunting a large stag.

Grandpa followed it carefully, cutting off the stag on its left side and took his place beside a large tree. Grandpa aimed the nozzle of the shotgun at the stag's head. He was confident that it would hit right where he wanted it. But it was as if the stag was aware and knew about it. It played around with grandpa, as if playing around with a cat. The stag lowered its body before it snuck away from grandpa and disappeared.

Grandpa was shocked and confused, but grandpa wasn't someone who'd give up easily. He looked for the stag's trail. He examined the direction the stag's trail went. He smelled the dried leaves there. Finally, grandpa brought his ear closer to the earth.

He sighed, obviously the stag's trail was hard to acquire. While grandpa was walking back and forth, a different stag appeared in front of grandpa. The stag was much bigger and imposing compared to the previous stag. Its eyes s.h.i.+ned as if challenging grandpa whose eyes were wide from the shock. Grandpa didn't miss his chance and released a shot. Grandpa was happy that the bullet he fired went right in between the stag's brows.

Grandpa unsheathed his silver golok in order to slit the stag's throat. Grandpa looked at his golok before he chanted something. Then he b.u.mped the golok's handle against the ground. But as grandpa moved towards the stag, the stag suddenly got up.

In front of grandpa's eyes, there were now two stags. At the same time, grandpa's heart beat fast. He felt there was something wrong that was about to happen. Grandpa jumped when the jungle fowls crowed suddenly.

Probably to get things over with quickly, grandpa released a shot against one of the stags right in between the eyebrows. The stag fell, but it rose up again, but this time there were three stags in front of grandpa.

Grandpa was confident that there was something wrong here, but grandpa wasn't a weak-willed man. If he was, he wouldn't dare leave his home village in Aceh, rowing a boat to Pengkalan Bharu and before settling in the Beruas area. Grandpa kept shooting. The stag continued to become three, four, five, six and seven. The crowing of jungle fowl became even louder.

The forest leaves around grandpa rustled as if shaken by someone. The earth he stepped on just before was swept clean of even a single leaf. Grandpa punched the ground with his left fist. He could feel the muscle at the base of his neck twitch.

Grandpa smiled. He knew this problem must be handled differently. Grandpa recalled his late grandmother's advice from across the straits, “If you're hunting animals and feel the muscles at the base of your neck move, that means what is hunted is no longer an animal, but most likely a forest guardian, a demon or a bunian (4). “

Grandpa put his shotgun on the ground. He meditated, collecting his spiritual energy while chanting his spell. Through grandpa's sixth sense, he could clearly see that the stag was actually the forest's guardian.

Grandpa's face flushed, sweat ran down his face, teeth gnashed against each other. Grandpa's eyes didn't blink. In front of him stood a large figure, eyes red, hair reaching all the way to his heels. Its teeth were huge, with two fangs on both sides extending outwards like the tusks of an elephant. On both sides there were six djinns equal to him.

“Insolent lout, foul human!” the voice echoed, the leaves of the forest flew as if blown by strong winds.

Grandpa remained quiet as he continued to meditate on the ground.

“Do you know what you have done, human?” the voice continued.

Grandpa's back was already drenched in sweat. Grandpa kept quiet, as he had already blocked all his weak points with the spiritual technique he inherited from his late grandmother. As a result, the djinn was unable to enter grandpa's body.

“No,” grandpa said bravely.

“You infringed on my forbidden ground.”

“I have asked for permission.”

“I did not give permission,” the djinn said harshly. His two fangs moved as he spoke.

“If you didn't give permission, then why didn't you give me a signal as I entered,” grandpa replied calmly. He was ready to gamble everything.

“Insolent human!” the djinn cried, the pressure of his voice made the forest shake.

(1) ‘Golok‘ is something like a curvy parang with pointed tip.

(2) ‘Gunung' means ‘mountain'. Yes, Ai-chan can translate that. But's let's use this opportunity to learn Malay.

(3) ‘Pantai' means ‘beach'. There, you have learned three Malay vocabulary today.

(4) ‘Bunian‘ or ‘Orang Bunian' is translated as ‘elf'. Ai-chan didn't translate it because let's add another vocabulary for you today.

Translator's Note:

Pre-Islamic Malays believed that wildlife guardians like the one in this chapter were spirits of nature. Even in Cla.s.sical Malay culture, guardian ent.i.ties were sometimes wors.h.i.+pped with offerings as they were believed to be able to bring good luck or great calamities. Only around the 19th century that the idea that guardian ent.i.ties were djinns took root and continued to this day.