Bint of Gilgit ~ Pakistani Love Story ~ ONGOING ~

Uninvited Guest

The tribal elders stared from one face to another in uncertain silence. They had been gathered for a tribunal on the immediate orders of their leader, Shah Zaman. It had been five years since they had sat in this room - awaiting a momentous decision. But for some of them, anticipation had been replaced by a growing feeling of betrayal. 

Shah Zaman had not informed them that he had been visited before as the threatening city boy had said. Why had they been kept in the dark about such a growing threat? Their children, their women, and their entire future were now at stake. 

"Shah Zaman!" One of the daring tribal elders exclaimed. "How could you hide this from us? What a grave crime you have committed against your own!" 

"Silence!" Shah Zaman roared, his eyes bloodshot with fierce retribution. How dare that swine send the filth of his loincloth to their doorstep? How dare they threaten him and his family after everything that had occurred because of them?

"Today there were three! Tomorrow there will be more!" The father of Palwasha and Bakhtawara cried. "You saw what they did to your daughter and Nazli! Tomorrow it will be our daughters!" 

They nodded mutually - not caring that they were essentially threading on mutiny. Their leader had demanded silence yet no one cared for his commands. They wanted action. They wanted answers. And they wanted them now. 

"I will speak to him tomorrow." Shah Zaman promised, looking suddenly weary. He was too old - his tired eyes had seen much, but never had he thought that he would ever face the threat of being homeless. His tribe had never asked much from anyone. They had been content with farming and working hard for their own survival. Until five years ago when the accident had occurred. 

"Wahda karo! (Make an oath!)" They warned - pointing towards the sharp dagger that sat on a step underneath the Holy Qur'an. Shah Zaman glared disappointedly at the mistrust he spotted in their eyes before clutching the Qur'an with a cloth. 

"I make an oath upon the word of my Khuda (Allah) that I will never give up our land." He kissed the Qur'an with a heavy heart and then grabbed the dagger. It was an old custom of theirs to make a blood oath - a principle that had been applied only a handful of times. Yet, this situation and the distrust he saw in their eyes called for it. 

With a quick slice of his palm, he let ruby blood roll off his wrinkled skin. Yes, he was making a promise but did Shah Zaman and his people have it in him to defend their land? Could they with a few dozen guns and horses fight against men who had every evil invention at their disposal? 

"Main wahda karta hoon. (I make an oath.)" But the words were hollow and did not come from his heart. Outside thunder erupted and a downpour of torrential rain came from the heavens. He heard the women scream and scramble to save their clothing that had been left to dry. Innocent children giggled, choosing to run under the rain rather than take refuge from it. And somewhere off in the distance, he heard a whisper of a voice - one that he hadn't heard in five years . . . 

***    ***    ***

The hotel waiters trembled and wished that the walls would engulf them as Anarkali had once been. The presence of the four men - no doubt, no normal men were sending ripples of fear in their hearts. Not to mention, they had booked the entire hotel and were now relaxing in the VIP lounge with pistols, rifles, and briefcases stashed with money littered everywhere. 

But more than that it was the dark brooding look the one named Asadullah was sending to the newcomer. A murder was about to take place and they were about to witness it. 

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Finally, the question that everyone awaited was asked. Khalid merely chugged down a shot of whiskey - his demeanor relaxed and somewhat offensive when he put his feet up on the table and pointed them directly at his half-brother.