His eyes exuded warmth...burning flames...he wanted to take her and burn away...into purgation. He smiled. And she blushed. There was intoxication. The traditional Pathani suit spoke of his tribal values...zar, zan and zameen...and the idea tingled her somewhere. Rubab...someone was playing it. Her soul was whirling to it...whirling in a white wave of passion and love. The dance of the wounded. Shukriya, he said. She was still looking into him. Hmm? she wondered...Shukriya he said, his deep set eyes penetrating her. A smile...almost mocking her innocence...
She could smell him now...he wreaked of the mountains, of horses, of honour and of swords...she could see their ruggedness in the firm setting of his jaw...His eyes twinkled with affection...like stars on a clear sky blanketing desert sands on a never traversed landscape. Raisins, soft cooked mutton, pomegranates, the warmth of the tandoor...yes that is what it was...the perfect concoction of strength and warmth...
She was lost...lost in the intoxication of that perfect blend...
Paimona bedah key khumar astam
Bring me the glass so I may lose my self
Paimona bedah key khumar astam
Bring me the glass so I may lose my self
Man ashiq e chasm e mast e yaar astam
I am in love with my beloved’s intoxicating eyes
Man ashiq e chasm e mast e yaar astam
I am in love with my beloved’s intoxicating eyes
Bedeh bedeh kay khumar astam
Bring bring so I may lose myself
The world revolved oblivious around them...but the secret had been shared between...
Acknowledgement of a bond between two souls...
A flickering moment....And his eyes...
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