| Hawaaon Ke Paighaam | Messages Of The Wind

| Billionaires Bay: Lounge One |

Seedhe saadhe saara saudha seedha seedha hona jee

Maine tu ko pana hai ya tu ne main ko khona jee

Aaaja dil ki kare saude baazi kya narazi
Arey aa re aa re yaar...

The Qatari sun came up with its usual intensity but provided a short-lived relief for those who had been awake before its rising. As the lobby of the Mandarin Oriental gradually lit up with the sun's rays bursting in through the numerous floor-to-ceiling glass panels it was encased in; the click-clack of designer heels and subtle thuds of Italian leather dress shoes echoed as its residents awakened from its slumber. The night shift handed over the mantle to the day staff, and like a well-oiled machine, the hotel began another day of business as usual.

The Billionaires Bay Lounges slowly filled up as the buzz of business meetings began and the breakfast buffet started. One of the unwritten rules of the Mandarin Oriental was that Lounge One on Billionaires Bay was to only be used by its usual occupant; it had started as a habit and developed into routine over the past many years.

Murtasim Khan leaned back on the dark leather sofa in Lounge One and listened to the words filtering in through his ear-piece, his face a picture of concentrated calm and his right hand unconsciously stroking his upper lip.

"Khan log pareshaan horahe hain. Malik ka shikaar humari zameen pe aagaya aur uske peeche Malik ne apne banday bhej diye. Jab tak unhe zabardasti nikala nahi gaya who wahin shikaar pakarnay mai lagay thay aur kisaano ko bandukoon se daraa rahay thay. Kaleem ko chot bhi lagi hai."

Murtasim was quiet. Zafar Shah, the advisor he'd appointed after resuming flying, continued with the details whilst Murtasim looked through the glass wall of the lounge and into the lobby. Zafar was an interesting mix of feudalism and urbaneness; an astute man in his forties, Zafar had the progressive outlook and astuteness needed for Murtasim's brand of feudalism, but what made him invaluable to Murtasim was his ability to swallow and accept the harsh realities of the age-old feudalism without a grimace. Often an open and educated mind was unable to balance the two, always tipping towards progression and forgetting that progressive steps forward couldn't be taken until you freed yourselves from the chains anchored behind you.

Murtasim had seen himself in Shah, with his ability to understand and carry out age-old customs whilst planting seeds of new practices. The two men, along with Bakhtu, the head of Murtasim's security in Hyderabad, were the force behind the smooth running of the Khan Murtasim Khan success story.

No other Khan in the lineage had hired an actual advisor of affairs, but then they'd probably never achieved the heights of success Murtasim had. He knew he couldn't just jet-set around the world creating an international empire whilst leaving his ancestral seat unprotected; you, your power and your throne were never guaranteed a tomorrow in feudalistic set-ups, Murtasim had come to terms with this very early on.

So he'd gotten himself a minister and a knight to protect his kingdom whilst he left to conquer lands and deals far and wide.

"Kya hukam hai Khan?"

Murtasim pressed the knots in his neck, turning away from the lobby and back to the coffee table in front of him. Malik Zubair and his frankly petty misdemeanours had never been of much importance or concern to Murtasim. He was a typical by-product of feudalism; arrogant, dangerously careless and absolutely powerless without his father's title and money. They were almost the same in age and yet Murtasim had always felt like he was dealing with a young miscreant in all his interactions with the man; as long as he wasn't causing serious or lasting damage, Murtasim didn't consider the man a worthy opponent, or worth his time.