| Hawaaon Ke Paighaam | Messages Of The Wind | A Tere Bin AU

| Plot M |

Lafzon se jo tha paray

khaalipan koh jo bharay

kuch to tha

tere mere darmiyaan...

In most dynasties, especially feudal, the succession chain has always been its most crucial aspect. People are willing to live or die by the line of succession, and to be the golden heir of any such inherently wealthy and powerful line is no less than to live like a prince. Murtasim Khan had been no different. He had been birthed as the golden heir to an incredibly rich, influential and relevant family line with a lineage that could be traced far, far back.

The coronation of Murtasim Khan as Khan to the Khan family seat, its traditional gaddi, was a bittersweet and emotionally overwhelming affair. As the successor of a man who had been greatly beloved and equally revolutionary, stepping into the late Khan Shahnawaz Ahmed Khan's shoes had been no small feat. The city of Hyderabad, the people under Khan protection and several others all over the world had mourned the great Khan's untimely and tragic demise for a long time, and for a longer time after that, Murtasim Khan had delayed his official gaddi and pagh ceremony.

Work had never stopped, the gaddi had been filled by him, the people cared for and the lands flourishing, but the pomp and circumstance had been delayed until he had been ready, and most importantly, his mother, sister and their hearts had been ready.

On a pleasant March afternoon, about eight years ago, that ceremony had finally come to take place, much to the joy of his people. A week-long celebration, it had begun with the official panchayat meeting and welcome, as well as him assuming his official seat at the head of the table as the leader of the clan and areas. After that had come the pagh ceremony, and sitting tall and regal on a large, majestic armchair, Murtasim Khan had been given the ancestral family pagh and sword by Anwar Khan, the closest thing he had to a father relation.

As the pagh had been placed on his dark head, his eyes had been narrowed and focused, his face impossibly serious and his body as straight as an arrow. He had taken it all in and done everything with a calm, quiet air; something which had not been entirely expected by the late Khan's London educated and returned son.

Next had come the procession through the rural lands, with massive convoys of Range Rovers and Land Cruisers driving along the villages, all flanking the midnight blue Range Rover in the middle which had carried the new Khan in the vehicle everyone knew him to prefer. He had stopped at many areas along the way, greeting people, having short cursory talks before moving along, and every single villager had showered him in petals and prayers.

For people who had been in sorrow over their late leader's death and uncertain about the future, the new Khan, quiet, intimidating and carrying a formidable, unshakable air, had been a beacon of hope; a solid sigh of relief that this man wouldn't let anything happen to his family dynasty or his people. He would take care of everything.

And take care he had. He had surveyed, reformed, expanded and improved every single area of the gaddi's care and reach. He had almost changed the face of his family dynasty. He had brought in modern technologies to his fields and villages, had arranged for new reforms to be laid out in a manner which not only educated the people but allowed them to learn the reasons and need for them and he'd taken the export good from his land to the global stage.

It had not only benefited him monetarily but had given his people a renewed sense of purpose and pride as they worked towards bigger, shinier goals and achievements.