Raah-e-ishq

CHAPTER 4

AUTHOR'S POV :

The morning of 1st December descended upon the village like a shroud, its darkness mingling with the thick fog that enveloped everything in a hazy embrace. Despite the chill in the air, the winter season in Punjab showcased its beauty, painting the landscape in a palette of greens and greys. The fields stretched out endlessly, the lush greenery punctuated by clusters of trees, creating a serene and picturesque scene.

In the heart of the village stood the grand Haveli, a bastion of power and protection for its inhabitants. The Haveli stood proudly, its ancient walls bearing the weight of history and tradition. It was a symbol of the respect and pride of the shahs who had ruled there for generations.

Within the courtyard of the Haveli, a group of villagers had gathered, their faces etched with concern and fear. They huddled together, their breath visible in the cold morning air, casting worried glances at the man who sat on an ornate armchair before them.

This man was Sikander Azeem Shah, the maalik of the Haveli. His presence commanded attention, his dark gaze sharp and piercing as he sat with a cigar in hand, the smoke curling around him like a ghostly apparition. His furrowed brows and tapping feet betrayed his impatience and displeasure.

Before him sat an old man, his frail figure trembling under Sikander's gaze. The man spoke hesitantly, recounting the tale of his young daughter who had disappeared from the village. Sikander listened intently, his expression unreadable.

Finally, Sikander stood up, his imposing figure casting a long shadow over the old man. He lifted the man to his feet, his actions firm and decisive. "agar wo apni marzi se bhaagi hai to apni maut ki zimmedaar khud hogi" he declared, his voice resonating with authority.

Turning his attention to the old man, Sikander's voice softened, but the underlying threat was clear. "Lekin agar wo larke us ko mere ilaaqe se zabardasti le ke gaye hain to aaj un ke gaaon se laashein uthengi"

He called for Zaviyar, a muscular man who stood nearby, and ordered him to fetch the car. "nawaz khan ke kutto ko lagaam daalne ka waqt aa gaya Hai." he said, his fist clenched in anger.

As Zaviyar hurried off to carry out his orders, the villagers watched in silence, knowing that their shah would stop at nothing to protect them and uphold the honor of their village.

*****

ZIMAL'S POV:

As we entered the second week of our stay in Hunza, the enchantment of this place continued to hold me in its thrall. It truly felt like paradise on earth, with every sunset, mountain peak, and river bend offering a glimpse of heaven.

Our photography expedition had been a success, and I felt a sense of accomplishment knowing we had captured the essence of this place for our upcoming exhibition. I was certain we would leave a lasting impression.

Inside the car, the journey back was quiet, the windows shut tight against the cold. I shifted in my seat, glancing around at my companions, all of them sound asleep, their faces hidden behind warm mufflers.

I reached for the newspaper I had grabbed from the resort before we left, the crisp texture of the paper feeling oddly comforting in my hands.

Flipping through the pages, I came across an article about Imran Khan, the cricket legend who had changed the game forever. Despite not being a die-hard cricket fan, the mention of India-Pakistan matches always piqued my interest.