| Hawaaon Ke Paighaam | Messages Of The Wind

| London |

Note:

Diazepam is a medication used to treat anxiety.

Bakhour is basically wood chips which are scented by soaking them in perfume/oud oils. They are burned in incense burners and used as room fragrance.

A galley is the kitchen/bar area on a plane. Larger/high end carriers have lounges for First Class, complete with a bar, a chef and a kitchen area for preparation.

Fire on fire, would normally kill us

But this much desire, together we're winners

They say that we're out of control

And some say we're sinners

But don't let them ruin

Our beautiful rhythms...

An abandoned field.

Hyderabad

It was silent; eerily silent. Friable threads of a tentative calm held onto one another as the cold wind whistled across the wide, barren expanse of land on the very edge of the harvest fields and threatened to jar them. Grey dominated the entire scape, both in feeling and in the visual presented to the lone figure walking hurriedly across the wet, cold mud; his face covered with his khaddar shawl and his posture suspiciously sneaky. His black Peshawari chappal thudded across the ground as he covered the foggy distance across the field just as the light streaks of dawn were threatening to break the engulfing cover of the dark, gloomy sky.

The trees surrounding the isolated land swayed to a slow, sinister beat and every noise was a potential danger; twigs snapping underneath his feet, the leaves on the trees around him whispering as they slid across one another and the calls of the stray animals lurking around. Everything was suspicious.

Everything was an ominous sign.

Upon reaching his questionable destination, he slid himself flat behind a gigantic tree and stood under its deceptively protective cover; his frame and intentions shrouded in darkness.

And waited.

It was all that he could do after all. And it was all he did.

And then the wait ended.

The eerie calm which had settled over the abandoned field was slashed across by the bright, invasive beam of headlights which entered the grey and displaced it. It was strange though. Light which should've illuminated the area somehow made it more sinister; the car parked on the small dirt road was surrounded by a sharp blaze and swathed the rest of the landscape in blinding darkness. All the lone figure could do was walk blindingly across the dark field, his chappal leaving imprints on the path he took on the wet mud underneath. Like a moth to a flame, he came to stand in front of the massive SUV with its engine still running. And waited. Again.

But this time the wait was short.

The car door opened and the crunch of shoes on the rocky dirt road sounded, only to be engulfed by the roar of the car's powerful engine. The car's occupant, a tall, broad man in kurta shalwar and an expensive looking silk scarf hanging from his neck, left the door open and rounded to stand in front of the open door, his arms crossed as he stood still. He, of course expected the shorter man in front to come to him. And his expectation was met when the other man walked around the bonnet and came to stand beside the front wheel on the SUV.

"Salaam-a-laykum." He spoke, his voice deep.

"Kamaal ne kaam bata diya hai tumhe?"

The taller, richer man ignored the greeting and slipped a hand into his trouser pocket, extracting a packet of cigarettes. As his hand moved to remove and light a cigarette, the gold lines on the packet caught light and glinted, illuminating the deep red-coloured cardboard next to them. His rings were next to catch the gleam of headlights as the fingers they were on effortlessly moved to his mouth and back down, leaving a billow of white smoke around them.