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Whispers fill the corridors, beds levitate, termites crawl over bed, and water drips from a tap in the bathtub. These are not just tricks of the mind in Deemak, a new psychological horror film based on true events in Balochistan. The film draws inspiration from horror writer Ayesha Muzaffar, known for her book Jinnistan and Instagram page Abusjinns, where she posts fictional horror stories rooted in South Asian folklore. Having once worked on her book as an editor, I was curious to see if her eerie imagination could transition well onto the screen.

Directed by Rafay Rashdi, Deemak is a slow-burn thriller built on tension, silence, and cultural fears. The film opens with a large, aging home, its wooden railings, heavy drapes, and shadowed corners hinting at what’s to come. The story focuses on a family navigating personal tensions while unexplained phenomena begin to unravel their everyday life.

Jawed Sheikh plays Mehmood, the deceased patriarch, while Faysal Quraishi takes on the role of Faraz, a man caught between his wife Hiba (Sonya Hussyn) and his paralysed mother (Samina Peerzada). Bushra Ansari makes an appearance towards the tail end of the film when the situation is out of control, with commentary and presence that adds weight. Each member of this ensemble brings years of experience to their roles, which is essential in a genre that can easily become exaggerated if not handled with control.

The film’s central conflict lies in the strained relationship between the daughter-in-law and the mother-in-law. Hiba is a new mother trying to settle into her role, while the elderly Dado has lived through decades of trauma and emotional neglect. A fall on the stairs leaves Dado bedridden and cared for by a home nurse, Iqra, until she also leaves without informing the family after witnessing strange things happening with Dado.

It is Covid time and nurses are few and far between so Hiba is left to tend to the house, children and now Dado as well. Soon, it’s clear that the house is no longer just a home, and that something far more sinister has begun to take hold.

The children are the first to notice it. Rafay, the younger son, first senses something is off, followed by his older sister Rumaisa. Their observations are dismissed, as often happens in such films, but their unease becomes the audience’s cue to pay closer attention.

Deemak uses horror not just as a scare tactic, but as a lens through which to examine emotional decay. The termite metaphor — destruction from within — is carried through both the house and the relationships within it. Abuse, guilt, resentment and denial are the real ghosts here, and they leave a stronger impression than the jump scares.

The visual effects are handled well, especially considering the limited history of high-quality horror visuals in Pakistani cinema. The film’s CGI, done in collaboration with a Canadian team, allows for believable yet understated supernatural elements, floating furniture, shifting shadows, and flickering lights. More than that, the sound design plays a major role: quiet sobs, laughter in empty rooms, and distant screams keep viewers on edge without overwhelming them.

Peerzada delivers a strong performance, despite spending most of the film motionless. Her expressions do the heavy lifting, watching her eyes shift and her mouth twitch is more unsettling than any makeup or special effect. Quraishi holds the middle ground well, trying to balance loyalty and logic. Hussyn’s portrayal of a reserved, quietly terrified woman feels grounded and adds to the film’s tension.

Deemak arrives at a time when Pakistani horror is gradually evolving. Films like Zibahkhana (2007) and Aksbandh (2016) explored slasher and found-footage territory, while In Flames (2023) brought psychological horror into the arthouse realm. Deemak continues this shift, offering a genre film that focuses more on emotional and psychological realism than on spectacle.

The film ends on a quiet, grim note, suggesting that trauma doesn’t just haunt us, it settles in. Like termites, it lives inside walls and bodies, feeding off what’s already broken. If there’s a message here, it’s this: houses, like families, can fall apart not because of what’s outside, but because of what’s ignored within.

Deemak may not reinvent the horror genre, but it stays committed to its story. It’s restrained, atmospheric, and unsettling in ways that feel personal. And sometimes, that’s enough.