HBAS Chat corner

In a town, not far from Aidabad...

'Ruffians and bullies must be punished this way - don't you agree, banna?'

'Wh... what?' His head already spinning from the force of several disturbing thoughts, Sayyid adjusted the sides of his bright orange turban. 'Y... yes...' he hurled a straight stare at the tubby traveller - a man he'd had to befriend along the way to blend-in with the crowds. 'I... I agree...'

Bringing the string of exasperating conversations to an end with a curt nod, he nudged a few men aside. And then a few more.

He NEEDED to get a better look of the source of all that commotion - for, his pulse was beginning to trot a very uneasy trot now. More uneasy than the feel of being jabbed and jostled around amongst a crowd of a hundred unknown faces. More uneasy than the notion of being the lone Mughal man, disguised merely by his attire - a cotton dhotar and turban - in a town populated by a thousand staunch Hindus!

'Ai Khuda... let it not be... let it not be what I fear it is...' the prayers never stopped - not till he reached the front row. Not till he got his first glimpses 'let it not be what I fear it is... ohhh... my Lord...' All he could see initially, was a limp pile of human remains, thrown together in the middle of the street. Faces and attires of those at the bottom, drowned in blood trickling down from the bodies atop. But a second glimpse and any little strand of faith was shattered into a thousand infinitesimal bits.

'NOOO OOO!!!!' The skin of his jaw turned into a furious web of purple veins, as he peered into the lifeless eyeballs of the safehouse keeper - an old and faithful servant of their Ustaad who'd been guarding the Aidabadi safehouse for many years now!

'Yes banna... ruffians MUST be punished this way! Imagine... how terrible it would've been for that lone wounded defenceless man, with all of these bullies trying to hunt him down... hail the Kunwarsa of Manswar... for coming to his rescue'

Parnagarh

'The Hindu prince... posted at Gujarat... during the time that Chota Faizan was killed... was the Kunwar of Manswar...'

His hardened fingers were meant to have replaced the stamp after sealing the document. But his stares were stuck upon the sight of that small lamp - its fire flickering in his ebony pupils. From where he sat, its heat was insignificant, its light almost invisible under the bright light of day. But come darkness and it'd be another story altogether. Left unchecked, and it could burn everything down to the ground.

How was he meant to douse this fire without getting himself burnt? More importantly, how was he meant to do so, while making sure not a single stray ember reached her?

Suddenly; a pair of fair hands constrained the fire by placing the glass lid back on. Few moments later, those hands trekked slowly along the surface of the table, towards his still fingers, and waited.

When no resistance came from his end, his cold fist was then tenderly pried open. The stamp and seal were returned to their holders and the rosewood box was shut - nothing but the sounds of clinking bangles dispelling the silence all along.

Akbar gazed at the fair hands - for a good long while. Before lifting his brows up, ever so slightly, to take a look at the quiet visitor they belonged to.

'Khamma Ghani Khan Sahib...' she greeted him with expressions rather than words. 'Shubh savar...'

Originally posted by: lghosh

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