| Hawaaon Ke Paighaam | Messages Of The Wind

| Hyderabad |

Himmat na haar, dil chota mat kar,

Sath mere chal mera haath pakar kar,

Aankhon mein tu aansu leke soya na kar,

Baby Badshah ki jaan hai tu roya na kar...

Mainu tu leja kithay dur meraya haniya,

Mainu tu leja kithay dur...

Begum Salma Shahnawaz Khan was known as a tough woman, and she didn't deny the rumour. You didn't get to where she was today by compromising and playing soft. Yes, she was a woman of steel; she had the kind of formidable strength which made the burden of responsibility, power and utmost authority, look regal. You had to be tough-as-nails to watch your husband die young, leaving behind two young children, one of whom was the heir to a dynasty. She had squashed the urge to weep, put aside her grief, and made her son the focal point of her efforts; after all, Khan Murtasim was the beacon of hope to their people, their family, and their empire.

She had always thought that Murtasim was different from her and Shahnawaz; he'd always had an academic flair. From a young age, he had started reading all the books he could get his hands on, sometimes even reading with the servant's children just because they had a book he hadn't read before. He'd then started building models of planes from scratch; assembling, painting and then testing them. If a plane wasn't up to the mark, he would just dissemble it and work on it until it performed the way he wanted it to.

She believed he had inherited his love for academia from his grandfather, Ahmed Khan, who had been a revolutionary leader of their clan. Naturally, she worried that one day, her son's logical thinking and love for academia may clash with his duties as Khan, something she thought was inevitable. Murtasim had never been weak or soft, but he'd always had a quiet control on himself and his emotions, which was uncommon in heirs of feudal dynasties.

It was why Salma Begum had been astonished when her young son, who'd wanted to become a pilot, had returned from Imperial College London and had taken his father's ancestral seat with such ease and authority. Not because he had done so, because she'd always known he would fulfil his duty, but because he had managed to study business and become a pilot, all before taking on the role of Khan on his father's untimely death.

To this day, her heart clenched with unease when she thought about it; had her son somehow known that his world would be tilted on its axis so soon? Was that why he'd worked like the devil to fulfil his own goals before the mantle of Khan had been thrust upon him? She didn't know, but she had learnt one thing about her son during that time; Khan or not, Murtasim did not allow anyone to dictate his fate. He possessed the same strength that his father had; he was just as comfortable sitting in a panchayat with guns as he was with sitting in a boardroom in whatever city he had businesses in. He had a silent strength, his aura never brash; her son had proved to be an enigmatic amalgamation of academics and raw power, and wherever he was, Khan Murtasim's word was the law.

Of course she had some leniency, being his mother, but Salma Begum knew not the test her son's limits; he had already shown her that there was nothing more formidable than a cornered tiger. Since then, she had focused on her own duties as Maa Begum; seeing to the welfare of their women, sorting out their issues and making decisions on their behalf. She presided over the family like an esteemed elder, one who was not to be questioned or trifled with.

Sitting in her lounge in the West wing of the haveli, she looked at her guests. Guests only if you ignored the fact that she had summoned them here. Waqas and Anila looked outwardly calm; a little too comfortable considering they had no idea where their only child was and had been in the dark for the past five days.