| Hawaaon Ke Paighaam | Messages Of The Wind

| The Centre |

Note:
Anything in italics with speech marks around it is a flashback of a spoke sentance. E.g. 'xyz'
Sentances in italics WITHOUT speech marks are current thoughts. E.g. xyz

Parwaaz is flight/flying in Urdu.

Hai maanjha tera tez
Yeh dil ki pattang ko katay, haye
Tujhe se katt ke yeh
Giray teri chat pe aakay, haye...

*Thirteen Years Earlier*

The atmosphere at the majestic Khan haveli in Hyderabad was solemn. The chink of fine porcelain tea cups almost echoed in the large private lounge located in the main wing of the house; the wing which belonged to the governing Khan. No other sounds penetrated the heavy silence for a while. Until a sigh broke through.

"Ab aap aise hi baithi rahein gi? Udaasi mai?" Khan Shahnawaz Khan mused, looking at his wife.

Straightening elegantly on the Shanghai silk arm chair, his wife and Khaani, Begum Shahnawaz Khan, also known as Salma Begum, adjusted her fine chiffon dupatta and lifted her teacup to take a sip. Only after she was done and had put the tea cup back in its saucer did she ckear her throat and look at him.

"Mein Maa hoon. Mere bachay mujhse dur hongay to mein udaas hi hoon gi." She replied in a tone which was coloured in equal parts with subdued sadness and defiance.

Shahnawaz sighed and leaned back, linking his fingers over his mid-section as he silently regarded his wife of two decades. There was silence as she looked out at the humongous lawns edging the veranda of their private lounge. Her head was held high, her chin strong and stubbornly stuck out and her brows were raised, as they always were during conflict. He stayed silent for a while, letting her understand that her words were significant and hadnt fallen on deaf ears. She was a mother after all. Nothing could compete with that. Paradise lay at her feet and she was to be regarded above all in love and respect.

He knew that. The 'bacha' she was referring to knew that too. Even she knew that. But right now, she was akin to a wounded Mama lion; one who wasn't able to wrap her head around her cub wanting to strike out in the big, bad world all alone; no training wheels or soft, helping hand. She was defiant in the face of her child's defiance and it made Shahnawaz silently chuckle because where did she think Murtasim had gotten that defiant, rebellious streak from? Certainly not from him. Their first-born and heir had taken his father's eyes, wit, silent and sombre personality and even his smile, but he'd take something much, much more ferocious from his mother.

Tenacity and a fearless, searing rebellious streak.

It was why right now he was on a plane to London, days away from beginning his term at Imperial College London. Though that wasn't the part which was irking his mother. No, Murtasim going abroad to study business and finance was pretty much expected and nothing scandalous at all. The scandalous aspect entered the scenario when the heir to the khandaani gaddi had announced that instead of being confined to the feudal seat, a city and a people, he had decided he was going to become a pilot. A person who flew planes from one destination to the other, and in his case, the inclination had nothing to do with being rewarded with a pay check or a lofty rank at the end of it all. Their son's wish had been pretty simple; he wanted to fly. He didn't need validation from any ranking, he had enough money to settle the debts of at least two mid-sized countries and he had a solid career path already set out for him in the form of the feudal seat and the title of Khan; his reasons hadn't been the same as any normal aspiring pilot.