A story filled with laughter, humor and excitement.
Loves comes in all shapes, color and form. It's made out of stone hearted that shapes up our life differently. Loves makes the strong weak, and weak strong.
In this messy and chaotic world, when t...
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The chillness of the cold wind didn't wavered him as his distant eyes stared at a distance. His long beard almost white, the topi on his head as stiff as the man in his late 60s. His hands that was filled with rings was sporting a long stick that helped him stand properly.
"Sardar!" A man came running toward him. Panting as his eyes gleamed excitedly. The said man turned around looking at him coldly. His eyes hard and demanding. Ruthless in a way only one person knows. And that person is now missing.
"Keya hua?" His gruff tone cracked because of the heavy smoking. He coughed when the dryness made it impossible for him to talk.
"Surag mil gaya!!par..." his eyes suddenly seemed uncomfortable and uncertain. The said man narrowed his eyes as his experienced eyes flamed with rage.
"PAR KEYA?!" He roared startling the young boy.
"Woh I-slamaba-d mein hai, Arsalan Hamdani ki h-haveli mein!" He stammered, unable to keep up his posture and confidence. The name itself is feared and as much as he knew the old was, he could tell even he's surprised by this revelations.
"Thmhara dimaag toh thik hai?! Tumhe pata hai tum kiski baat kar rahe ho?! Itne barri aadmi ko usse koi lena dena nahi hoga!" He roared feeling his anger reach a new height.
"K-kiu sardar?" The boy asked.
The old man looked at him sharply, as if he was weighting the options to see if it was necessary to reply back. When his mind managed to make an imagination come to his brain if her being with him, all hell broke lose.
"Kiuki hum apne beti ko jante hai, woh aisa nahi karega!" He said, his voice suddenly calm but the hardness in his voice spoke volumes.
"Aur Agar woh uss haveli mein hoga toh?"
"Toh mein usse khich ke yaha le aunga aur zinda jala dunga!" He said with a mask of indifference in his face.
The big gulped as he looked over at the mountains Gilgit Balistan. The white snow covered mountains looked dull as an ominous breeze fell past them. The sound of death and chaos.
Even after everything he does for this man, deep down he prays that she finds herself there. Something she couldn't be or do here, he prays she finds it there. . . .
Flashback:
Eira Ayad Rajawat, the youngest of her two siblings. Everyone here in this village knows the chief of the village. Known for their mercilessness and injustice to the girls of their family hiding it in the name strict upbringing and culture.
When Sardar Jaidullah Rajawat's oldest daughter ran away with her 2 months lover and disappeared into nothingness, the chief vowed to find them and bury them alive. He fixed the marriage of his youngest daughter with the son of the next village chief. Pure business in transition as he gained more power and popularity than ever. But alas, greed made him blind to his once loved once.
