Asad-Zoya FF: Sand Clock: Chapter 4 pg 10

The orchard was quiet barring light breeze rustling through leaves and an occasional thud heard of a ripe fruit falling from a branch. The sun was moving westwards but birds weren't home yet nor it was nesting season for their chicks to make their presence known.

The quiet was disturbed by angry hoofbeats. The animal, a fine Arabi horse, ran at top speed, abiding to the soft pressure of its master's jootis on its sides. Its black coat gleamed in slanting sun rays, its lean muscles rippled as it galloped between trees. There was no danger outside; no other horsemen in its wake, no war cries, it was a peace time after all. But there was disturbance within and the horse ran instinctively reflecting mood of its master who had ridden him since he was a teenager and started learning horse riding. They had been running for quite a while, it and its master, constantly gaining speed. If it was some other horse, it would have fatigued by now, but both the horse and the master were of noble breed, capable of going on even when burden started getting unbearable. They had legacy and lineage to uphold. They finally stopped at the edge of the orchard, at the cliffs overlooking villages and kasbas of the riyasat. The master was in a dark mood today, ready to go beyond the cliffs but bound by known unknowns, judging by the sudden halt at the cliffs. The front legs of the animal were still dangling in the air and his neighing might have been heard in villages below.

While the horse calmed down, its master looked towards the picturesque valley below and the sun ready to disappear in horizon. His arched brows dripped with sweat, his fair, noble forehead glistened and sweat trickled down his erect back. His hair clung the insides of his cap and his nape curling inwards. He hesitated for a moment before taking off his cap to let the evening breeze cool his head and an errant lock of hair fell on his forehead; making him look boyishly handsome, taking off years both real and assumed. His white chikankari anghrakha his favorite riding gear and tribute to Lukhnowi heritage of his mother - had creased and was laced with fine layer of dust. He casually dusted his clothes without taking eyes off the valley below. His eyes holding a quiet storm within ready to blow off but tightly reigned.

Evening breeze was changing its course and wind started blowing from orchard towards valley and with it carried fragrance of sweet, ripe fruit and it is the fragrance that made him stop staring at the valley and look back. Those gentle trees looked huddled together in evening light as if family members gathering together after the day's toils were done. He sighed and gracefully climbed down the horse. He gently patted his faithful friend and strolled towards trees. Touching the bark of the nearest tree, he looked up at the canopy looking for the ripe guavas. There, he found a cluster of fruits. He looked around for stones. He did not have a slingshot in his pocket like his childhood but he could still try and he did try. First two attempts were futile but third attempt landed a fruit. He was not considered ace shot for nothing. He picked up the fruit bringing it to his nostrils taking a deep breath invoking memories of childhood when he and his nephew - less of nephew more of a brother - because of just two years of age difference between them spent hours in this orchard, playing, eating fruits, napping, hiding from their teachers. The nephew was estranged now, his elder brother was dead in a freak accident, his sister-in-law was venomous than before but carried the venom smothered in honey and held him responsible for taking her son's rightful title away the Nawab of Sahebabaad.

Current Nawab of Sahebabaad, Asad Ahmed Khan, was still lost in the memories of childhood brought alive by the Alladin's chirag that was the ripe guava fruit, when he heard hoof-beats. There was nothing to worry about as it was a peace time. But, his personal peace time had ended. The fruit dropped from his hand and rolled on the ground coming to stop against a small rock where it would rot. He donned his royal cap as a nawab could not be seen without his cap before public. It was a mulazim looking for his master. The master, who was to start his journey to Bhopal tonight to meet and marry his bride who was to get such a rich dowry that would shut mouth of those English vultures who were waiting on the periphery for the riyasat to fall under its own weight.

"Huzoor, aapke safar ke saare intazamat ho chuke hain. Aap ka hi intezar hain. Badi begum ne bulawa bheja hain."

Asad Ahmed Khan was dressed in a silk achkan and fine jewels - brooch for his royal cap, pearl necklace and kamarband and gemstone rings to adorn his long fingers. His manservant was helping him with his gold-embroidered jootis and continuously talking about who's who present in the mehfil of Nawab Begum of Bhopal, Begum Sultana Shah Jehan*. Asad scoffed at women rulers though they had been nothing but amiable towards his small riyasat. He firmly believed that women had place behind purdah and not in front of the world as a ruler. He liked women to be accomplished in arts & music; educated in languages, literature, and holy texts as they were the ones who brought up next generation of nawabs, but he liked reach of their education to be just so far. He shuddered at the thought of someone like his sister-in-law let out of her zenana quarters. She had done much damage from within. But, he didn't have much choice but to pay respects to the Nawab begum same way he was going to meet and greet all the British officers too despite passionately hating them for trying to usurp his legacy.

Soon he was part of the mehfil, glittering with jewels both stone and human, under the soft light of crystal chandeliers. Heady fragrance of rose water permeated the air. Soft strains of sitar and thaps of tabla barely rose above soft chatter of nobility around him. British officers in red coats stood out against soft silk of nawab and jagirdars. Asad avoided them. As he mingled with others, his eyes involuntarily travelled towards zenana where ladies were gathered. One of the lady was Tanveer Baig, daughter of a rich jagirdar and his soon to be wife. He was yet to meet her, but had heard praises of her beauty, her devout nature, her love for sher-o-shayari. She was well-educated as well which Asad admired for the sake of it. Most of the royal nikaahs were of matches made for political reasons and he was no exception. He accepted it and thought that if all that was said for Tanveer Baig was correct, he was making a right match. He knew he was no Shah Jehan nor she was Mumtaz Mehal.

He met her father, his soon-to-be father-in-law who took it upon himself to introduce him to everyone that he knew as his future son-in-law with generously dropping hints of the large dowry and indirectly taunting late Nawab for his incompetency in managing his wealth. Asad tolerated, corrected him as much as possible, but soon he felt like a caged lion and he knew that he needed to escape otherwise he would pounce on someone.

He grabbed the delicate silver glass filled with fragrant khas sherbet and stepped in the courtyard. He had barely taken seat on a bench, when he heard a wheezing sound. He looked around and found a shadow hunched near rose bushes.

"Kaun hain?" The shadow was holding breath.

"Maine puchha, kaun hain wahan pe?" Asad was up from his seat.

"Paani...paani." He found an aged man, bent double. He seemed harmless and in need of help.

Asad looked around for a servant but not finding anyone nearby, offered him his glass of sherbet.

The old man drank like his life depended on it and after finishing the drink looked at Asad gratefully clutching his own heart.

"Th...Shukriya."

"Aap kaun hain?"

"Jee...main...main... And, the man took off dropping the glass with a soft clang."

Asad was bewildered for a moment and then he ran after him. Old man had an advantage of first start and darkness but he was no match for Asad and he was soon blocked by a wall. Asad could see him fumbling near the wall, running his hands on them like a mad man as if there was a hidden door.

"Ruko. Main abhi sipahiyon ko bulata hoon. Koi hain? Koi hain?" The man kept moving from here and there though. Asad wondered for a moment if he was a mad man and the next moment glee on his face confirmed his doubt. The man was falling backwards. Was there a caving in the wall? He grabbed the man's hand tightly and then there was darkness.

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* Begum of Bhopal was a real person in history. Everything else is completely fictitious.

So, how is the story so far? Let me know. Yh...the real fun begins in the next chapter. 😛

Per thoda intezaar kijiye.

PMs tomorrow. Hope that some of the readers can find this before.😊

Chapter 2: https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/post/142801664

Chapter 3: https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/post/143794654

Chapter 4: https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/post/144731601

Really liked it.

But he can't marry tannu.

Well it was an awesome start.

Loved the update a Lott

I wonder who that man was ?? N what is the secret if the wall??

Other thing plzzz gI've us the intro of zoya too in the next update

N do pm.me whenever u update

Hello people I'm back here! 🤗