Single Blog

600 CE

We find ourselves inside the chambers of Chief Nazir. Nazir, in his late sixties, still going strong, is holding a newborn in his arms, begging Haris to take the baby. It’s pandemonium, we hear the sounds of desperate cries and frantic screams. The chief’s abode is humble one, a single mud room extending to an adjoining one. The small group inside the room is in shambles and falling apart. The chief’s wife, Queen Laiba is crying unconsolably, his daughter desperately trying to console her mother. The Chief is in tears, begging Haris to take the baby and run. Haris is caught off guard and almost froze, but Haris had been trained his whole life to be a man of action. He comes from a line of unchallenged warriors. The Chief is begging Haris to take the baby and run, run towards the mountains of Hijaz. There, he would meet up with the tribes of Zimr and Dubs and that he would be safe there.

Haris straps the baby to his chest and disappears into the chaos. He is seen dodging arrows, ducking swords being thrust towards him, forcing his way through the carnage. Haris is a man on a mission, single-minded, focused on the task at hand. He barely evades the attackers, leaving the safety of the settlement and escaping to the desert. Haris runs straight through the chaos dodging and avoiding any obstacle. Haris understood with absolute clarity the responsibility he had been entrusted. He remembered to the most minute detail and was taught since he was a young child the complete lineage and history of his ancestors.

THE DESERT PRINCE

Hashir had been among the fiercest and most feared warriors of his tribe – the Tazaik. The Tazaik had always been desert dwellers and particularly war-like. Hashir was the best of the best, An elite warrior from the fiercest tribe of the desert. Hashir had become tired of the pointless politics and the senseless ruthlessness. He had had an altercation with the tribal council of elders and had left, with his family to the desert. Hashir was a force of nature – Five feet eleven inches of rock-hard, shredded rage. Hashir could not be intimidated; Hashir could not be deterred. Hashir had no problem surviving on his own with just his family on his side, his wife and three sons. Even without the backing of a tribe, Hashir was well-respected and feared. He wasn’t a particularly large guy but his strength, agility and technique were unrivalled throughout the desert tribes. Hashir was a brilliant tactician, a real intellectual.

             Hashir’s son, Faheem and his brothers had a loving yet tough up-bringing. Without the safety and security of a tribe to fall back to, Faheem and his brothers had to always be on edge and ready for anything that came their way. Hashir, Faheem’s father had been sufficiently successful in providing for his family. Faheem and his brothers, though not living a life of luxury, always had more than enough to eat and would absolutely gorge themselves. During a feud Faheem’s Father Hashir had killed the son of Samoor’s Chief. Hashir was a man of the Lord. He was dangerous, he was powerful, he was unpredictable and ruthless when he absolutely needed to be. The Chief’s son had been harassing a widow from among the smaller tribes and her tribe, fearing Samoor’s might, had been reluctant to retaliate. Hashir had taken decisive and quick action. With No tribe to come to Hashir’s aid on time the Chief of Samoor had Hashir killed and taken Faheem and the rest of his family as slaves.

           Hashir was a master swordsman and a precise horseback archer. He had taught his sons these skills to the point that they had all surpassed him in these skills. By the time Faheem and his brother were taken as slaves, Faheem was fifteen and already proving to a formidable force of nature. Although just a teen he could be easily mistaken as a twenty-seven, twenty-eight-year-old man. Six feet tall, broad shoulders, strong muscular legs, well-defined jawline and a mean expression on his face with a deep commanding voice. His brothers, being older than him, one 19 the other 24 were absolute desert machines.

        Samoor were one of the biggest tribes at the time they had taken Faheem and his family captive. They lived in a desert city called Jumra-baqi. The city was under the protection of the Samoor tribe allowing Samoor to exercise complete and total control over the city and all the smaller tribes that dwelled within it. The Chief had decided to put Hashirs family through the worst possible torture he could imagine, for Zain, the Chief’s dead son was his favorite, the one he had planned to be his successor. But the Chief soon realized that Faheem and his brothers were much more valuable than torture animals when they could be put to much better use as warriors and fighters. Faheem and his brothers were thus kept as special slaves to the Chief entrusted with the most important tasks. The brothers were once again exposed to the highest life style, the best education, the toughest training. The brothers were now living a much better life than they ever had as free men.

         The Chief had developed a particular liking towards Faheem and appointed him as his personal security detail, trusting him almost like a son. In fact, with the passage of time he had started seeing him as his own. Although the Chief had twelve young adult sons, he saw none of them worthy and in Faheem he saw the son he never had. Recognizing his potential, the Chief had wed his youngest and most beautiful daughter, Zara, to Faheem. Faheem and Zara over the passage of time had just one son that they named Khalid. Khalid had, since his childhood, shown immense potential. He was much smarter and calmer than other kids of similar age. In Khalid the Chief could see a worthy successor to his throne. Even as Khalid was a young boy, barely seven years of age the Chief had openly started discussing his intentions of naming Khalid as his successor. This had made the Chief’s sons very jealous of the young boy. The Chief was getting old, and if he were to name Khalid as his successor would mean that his sons would be relegated from the line of succession permanently and they couldn’t let that happen.

       The Chief’s sons thus plotted to poison the Chief and take the throne after his death. With the Chief dead, his eldest son took the throne and became Chief of Samoor. The new Chief among taking charge wasted no time in demoting Faheem and his family back to the status of ordinary slaves. He had planned to have them executed but his brothers had advised him against it. Realizing that Faheem and his brothers were too valuable to kill the new rulers of Samoor had decided to keep them as warriors and expendable soldiers.

        Khalid was, from a young age, raised to be a soldier, a killing machine. Khalid was an exemplary soldier working his way up the ranks, eventually becoming a general in the Samoor’s Army. Still a slave by birth, his ancestral status meant that although a General he still remained as a slave to the Samoor tribe. Khalid’s son Zubair, like his father, had seen nothing but war and savagery. Like his father, Zubair had been forced to serve as a soldier in the Samoor army and just like his father, he too had eventually worked his way up the ranks becoming a general in the Samoor Army. By now, Hashirs descendants, known as the Forains, had been slaves for three generations. Though technically slaves, the Forains were mighty, highly educated and well respected within the city of Jumra-baqi.

         The birth of Zubair’s son who he named Nazir was a turning point for him. He couldn’t bear the thought of his son being forced to live his life as a slave as he, his father and grandfather had been. Zubair collected the Forains under his leadership and started efforts to free themselves from the servitude of the Samoors. Zubair being a general had considerable power and sway among the elders of the Samoor tribe. It had taken him sixteen years, but Zubair and his Forain brethren had been successful at gaining freedom from servitude on the condition that they would leave the city of Jumra-baqi and return to the desert where Hashir had originally been from.

           Zubair saw no problem in accepting this deal and planned on settling somewhere in the desert with his newly free tribe. This sudden freedom of the Forians had reinvigorated old feelings of hatred and jealousy that the chief’s lineage of Samoor had long fostered against the Forains. The Chef and his advisors decided one last time to sabotage the Forains. They came up with a plan to poison Zubair. With their chief gone, the newly freed tribe would crumble and be forced to stay within the city willingly submitting to a life of servitude. The Chief and his council thus invited Zubair in for a final meeting before they left for the desert. At the meeting they poisoned and killed Zubair with the meal.

          With Zubair gone, the Forains were lost and helpless. The needed a leader and rushed to the eldest among them asking him to take charge of the tribe and lead them. The elder was a wise man who advised the newly freed tribe to stay loyal to the ancient tribal laws of the desert and pledge allegiance to the Chief’s son Nazir, his worthy successor. Nazir though only sixteen, was of legal age to take charge as chief. The Forainis expecting wisdom from the advice of the elder rushed to pledge allegiance to Nazir and the tribe of Forain assembled, united under Chief Nazir.

        Nazir, a young teenage lad was thrust into leadership duties as Chief of the Forain tribe. The Samoor’s saw this as a good opportunity, thinking the young boy would easily succumb to the task at hand and chose to stay in the safety of the city. But Nazir proved to be even more firm-footed than his father, assembling the newly freed tribe, gathering as much supplies as they could and setting off towards the empty vastness of the desert at once. Nazir felt the desert calling it towards itself. It was the land of his ancestors. This was the land his ancestors had roamed free with no rival. He felt confident that the desert was his home and the throne of the desert his birth right.

         Nazir, though young, was a man of commitment, devotion and passion. He took his role as chief of tribe far more seriously than any other tribal chief in the desert. The Forain, still a young tribe, was making waves throughout the desert. The news of a newly freed slave tribe being led by a young boy had spread like wildfire and all the desert tribes wanted to take a crack at the young tribe. Nazir could not be defeated, he could not be out maneuvered, he could not be out smarted or caught off guard. Nazir was always focused, never distracted from the task at hand.

        Over the coming years, the Forains, under the leadership of Nazir, had asserted themselves as a respected force among the desert tribes. The Forains had settled smack dab in the middle of the desert miles from the nearest city. As time passed, the Forains prospered. There settlement grew from sheets hung on logs to well-built tents and now, they, just like all the other tribes of the desert, lived in small mud houses. The Forains, though modest in number, not more than 300, were all well-built and brilliant tacticians. Their formidable reputation had kept them safe from the prying eyes and evil intentions of the neighboring larger tribes.

       With the tribe prospering, Nazir had started communications with any friendly tribal chiefs he could find. He had been married twice and had three daughters.

          Nazir had been chief of the Forains since he was 16 years old and now after fifty years as chief, he desperately needed a successor. Nazir did not have a son; he was training his nephews and other young lads of the tribe in the hopes that one of them might be a worthy successor. The other tribes knew that Nazir was getting old and becoming weak and that soon Forain would be vulnerable. Samoor had partnered up with the tribes of Kasheer, Tarmaez and Sorai in preparation to take Forain by surprise. They were planning to attack as soon as Nazir would die. The had planned to overwhelm Forain with massive numbers when they would be disorganized after the chief’s death.

           It was at this turbulent time that Rizwan was born. Nazir, though elated at the birth of his son after he had waited and prayed for so long, could sense the oncoming threat and was uncertain about his infant son’s future. News of the Chief’s newborn son made the enemy tribes even more anxious and they felt the time to be perfect for attack. The Chief of the Forains was old and weak, distracted by the birth of his. This would be the perfect time to attack and take the Forains as slaves. The four tribes had decided to split the Forains equally among themselves as slaves. The collective army of Samoor, Kasheer, Tarmaez and Sorai felt confident in their numbers and decided to attack.

…..Haris recalled his journey through the desert. The moment he had taken the baby in his arms, it was as if some higher force had taken a hold of him. Haris felt unstoppable. He strapped the baby to his chest and leapt into action, jumping through the back window and disappearing into the chaos. It should have been impossible for him to make is way through the carnage and the savagery, but through some miracle he had blocked and evaded every sword thrust his way. He had run through the flying arrows, the fighting men and women, the crying children.

Haris now found himself in the middle of the desert, a newborn strapped to his chest. Haris kept running, not even wasting a single moment to look back. Haris was a machine, programmed to perform a specific task. His mind was focused, he had to get as far away from the threat as he could. The baby had started crying the moment Haris had leapt out the window but it was proving to be driving force for the young lad. The empty silence of the desert was now broken by the cries of a baby and the frantic footsteps of an unstoppable Haris committed to making his way through the soft desert sand. The soft sand made it particularly hard to move fast for any amount of time, but Haris could afford neither the luxury of going slow, nor could he afford to get tired. He kept going through the deafening exhaustion, the baby in his arms crying constantly, but his voice seemed to get softer and sweeter for Haris, nudging him to keep moving. Haris had been running non-stop through the night, as dawn was approaching, he found a place to rest. A couple of dead tree trunks, some previous traveler had used as a resting spot and left his canvass covering still tied to the trunks. Haris sat down to gather his breath and collect his thoughts. The baby was still crying but he had calmed down. Haris was parched, his stomach was churning, he was starving, yet he felt like puking. Haris laid down the baby next to him and sat back, his back resting against the tree trunk. Before Haris had gotten a chance to get his thoughts together, he had fallen asleep.

Haris woke up, the sun directly above them, Haris and the baby protected, shaded by the canvass cover. The bay lay next to him, no longer crying, seeming perfectly content. Haris had been starving and parched when he had laid down to rest, but somehow now he felt absolutely refreshed and ready to go. He had no time to spare, he needed to get moving immediately. The desert heat was harsh and would prove to be fatal without protection from the direct sun. Travelling on foot through the desert heat was an impossible feat. Haris started scanning his trying, his eyes desperately sweeping across the horizon, longing for some ray of hope. Haris thought he saw a camel across the desert but immediately dismissed it thinking it to be mirage. Every time he would run his gaze, scanning the distant horizon, he saw a camel, standing on the same spot. He looked down at the baby, about to fall asleep again, safe. He left the baby laying there and starting walking towards camel that had mysteriously appeared. Even as was almost about to approach the animal he still had a feeling that it must be an illusion from his mind and that he may be returning empty handed. Only upon actually touching the animal did Haris believe it to be in fact real. He immediately took hold over the Camel and brought it over to where the baby lay. To their surprise and delight it was a she-camel. Now Haris was in possession of a ride and a source of milk for him and the baby. This was the first time since they had fled the settlement that the duo had had something to eat or drink. The milk was enough for both Haris and the newborn to have their fill.

The Canvass cover proved to be superbly useful. Haris used it to fashion a make do saddle, reigns which he could tie and control the animal with. The left-over canvass was enough to cover the both of them and act as protection from the sun. There stood Haris, a newborn in his care and a camel to ride, the endless desert in front of him. This was like no other camel the desert dwellers had ever encountered before. The baby strapped to his chest, he set course towards the mountains of Hijaz. The three-hundred-mile journey would take four days, this was day one. Once the camel had started walking, it didn’t seem to get tired and wouldn’t need to rest, instead walking on endlessly through the desert sand. The trio-including the camel-kept going until dusk when they reached a well. Here Haris found not only water, but also a container that he could fill with water to take with him. He also found some date trees and ate as much as he could before taking more for the journey. They stopped at the well to rest for a bit, the camel drank water, ate to its fill. Once again, they set off, continuing non-stop through the night, the stars making it easier for Haris to navigate. The next few days went by without incident, they would travel during the night and most part of the evening, finding a shady spot to rest during the day when the sun would be most unforgiving.

RIZWAN KHAN

The son of the desert was thus on a journey through the harshest conditions of the desert, with just a young lad between him and the elements, on his way towards the mountains. The journey was to last four months. Young Haris had been forced to eat lizards, dead meat and anything he could lay his hands upon. But, as if through some miracle, he had always been able to find milk for the young baby. Every day, he would find either a goat, a deer or a camel out of nowhere ready to give Haris milk for the baby. Witnessing this miracle had reinvigorated Haris’ belief that this baby was destined for greatness far beyond his comprehension. Throughout the Journey, Haris had felt on multiple occasions the presence of a group following him. Fearing they might be a threat to the young prince, he had always evaded and escaped from them.

This is how the desert had planned to raise her son. The desert had claimed Rizwan as her own. Seeing a newborn thrust into the desert without a mother, the desert had decided to adopt the young prince as her own and raise him to take the throne of the desert. The desert loved Rizwan and in her own way nurtured and looked after him. The desert had had many sons before but Rizwan was her favorite. For even as an infant, the desert could sense the resilience in Rizwan’s blood.

After a grueling journey, Haris was so close to the mountains he could almost see them. The journey had been a demanding one and it had been unforgiving, but it had served to prepare Haris for what was about to come and affirmed his faith in his mission. Haris was the caretaker of a young prince, the son of the desert, a future King. When Haris reached Hijaz, the tribes of Zimr and Dubs had already been anticipating their arrival. The news of the savage attack on the Forain had reached them and they were expecting any remaining survivors to find their way towards them. The Chief, Nazir, had over the years been sending gifts to the mountainous tribes and made a deal with them that in case of dire emergencies he and his tribe would turn towards them for help.

The tribes of Zimr and Dubs were well aware of the legends of Hashir, Faheem, Khalid and the family of Nazir and had immense respect for them. Zimr and Dubs were elated at the thought of having a Foraini lad among them and having the Son of Nazir, the son of Zubair, son of Khalid, son of Faheem, son of the great Hashir himself had put the welcoming tribes over the moon. The tribes pledged to swear allegiance to the young prince the moment he came of age and became old enough to take the throne.

It wasn’t long before news of another band of Forainis arriving at Hijaz reached Haris. Haris rushed towards the arriving party. Sadly, Rizwan’s mother had perished, unable to bear the hardships of the journey, she had succumbed to fatigue during the journey. But Jina, young Rizwan’s sister, had survived and was elated to find that her young brother had not only survived the journey but was by all means, a miracle child. Jina set about raising Rizwan the best she could. Jina loved Rizwan like only a sister could, always keeping him under her watchful eye. As soon as Rizwan started walking, he developed a tendency to run towards the desert. Jina understood this and would take Rizwan to the edge of the desert, just at the point where the hard mountainous mud met the fluid desert sand. Rizwan would sit at the edge of the desert, playing with the sand and talking to the desert. The bond between the young child and the desert was about to be in full display for everyone to see.

Rizwan was turning out to be a beautiful young child. His eyes radiated a glow unique to himself. Jina made sure to keep a watchful eye on him. The rest of the Forainis and all members of Zimr and Dubs also took special care of the young prince. The tribes of Zims and Dubs had accepted the remaining Forains with open arms and had considered them as their own. They all knew and respected the ancestry of the young child and made sure to keep him and the rest of the Forains a secret from the other desert tribes letting them instead think that every last Forain had been slain.

Rizwan was taught, from an early age, all the languages of desert Arabia. During his early years, he was brought up among the highest nobility of the mountain tribes of Hijaz. But from an early age, Rizwan had shown little to no interest towards luxury and comfort and had instead felt a belonging towards the desert. Over the years as the Forains grew stronger and married into the tribes of Zimr and Dubs, the tribe had grown much stronger than it had been upon arrival.

Haris, now the Chief of the remaining Forains felt a need to take his tribe and return to the desert, the desert was their home. He had wanted to leave as soon as he had handed Rizwan over to Jina, he had felt his mission complete, Rizwan back in the care of his family, and wanted to return back to the desert to extract revenge from his enemies or die, atleast it would be an honorable death. But he had been stopped by the Forains, Zimr and Dubs, all the tribes had convinced Haris to stay insisting he couldn’t leave the remaining Forains without a chief and must therefore stay as their chief. Haris had felt his responsibility complete, having handed Rizwan back to his immediate family, but Jina had clarified to Haris that the oath he had taken was to look after the child until he became capable of fending for himself. These were a people of their word and Haris would never break an oath.

As Rizwan reached the delicate young age of six years old, Jina fell sick and died within a period of months. This loss had left Rizwan absolutely devastated and he would spend the most part of his day sitting at the edge of the desert, playing with the sand, his adoptive mother his only source of consolation. Haris had grown tired of the mountains and longed to return to the desert. The Forains, even the reluctant ones, knew deep within that they belonged in the desert and now that they were growing stronger and more self-reliant, the time to return back home was approaching. After Jina’s death and seeing Rizwan in grief, Haris decided to take his desert and return to the desert. Haris, now a fine young 27-year-old man, felt confident that he and the rest of the Forains would not only survive but thrive in the desert.

Haris set about preparing for the move. Although Zimr and Dubs both insisted that the Forains stay among them as their own, they knew and understood very well that the desert tribe needed to return to the desert. Thus, the Forains, under the leadership of Haris, left once again for the empty wilderness of the desert in search for a home and a place to settle. The news of the return to the desert had reinvigorated a grieving Rizwan and he, though still devastated by the loss of his sister, his last remaining direct blood relation, now had something to look forward to.

The desert had felt Rizwan’s return and had welcomed him with open arms. The Forains were having no problem finding subsistence in the desert. The desert could speak to Rizwan and Rizwan could speak to the desert. It had become obvious to the Forain that they were back home.

Rizwan Khan was a son of the desert, born to the desert, raised by the desert, the desert was his home, it was all he had ever known and he loved her with all his soul. The desert and all its forces seemed to respond to Rizwan. Even as a young child, his connection with the desert had allowed him to all that was happening in the desert, all the injustice, the ruthlessness, the inhumanity. He had been able to feel all of it. This had ignited a fire inside him. By the time Rizwan was in his late teens he was already a formidable force of nature. He was respected among his adoptive tribes and the legends of a miraculous desert son had started spreading across the desert.

                    Rizwan Khan felt a connection with the spirits of his ancestors. He could feel the blood of his ancestors coursing through his veins. Rizwan Khan was a man on a mission; not to be deterred. The experiences of all his ancestors had been preserved deep within their DNA, making them stronger and more resilient.

The Forains journey through the desert had led them to a city called Ruqs, home to the tribes of Turmood and Tazaek. The two tribes had been sympathetic to the fallen Forains. They had been paying tributes in the honor of the fallen Forains and had since declared any remaining Forains as one of them pledging to wage war against any tribe propagating such senseless aggression in the future. The Forains felt Ruqs a suitable city to settle in. Thus began the journey of Rizwan through childhood and into adolescence. The moment their journey through the desert began, Haris and the other men from among the Forains had started teaching Rizwan the ways of the desert. Upon reaching Ruqs and settling down, began the formal education of Rizwan. He was taught all the languages spoken throughout the desert. He was taught all the desert could offer of science, philosophy, religion, military tactics, he was trained in the most advanced combat techniques of the time.

Rizwan was trained to be a master swordsman, an excellent horse rider and a lethal archer. By the time Rizwan reached teenage he was already well-respected within the city of Ruqs and the legends of a miraculous son of the desert had started spreading among the neighboring tribes. The Forains were growing at an unprecedented rate. Any and all newly freed slaves would rush across the desert to find and join the Forains.

Rizwan already had the support and admiration of Tarmaez and Tazaik. Forain was ready to accept him as their chief whenever he willed. The Mountain tribes of Zimr and Dubs had already pledged loyalty and subservience to the young Prince when he came of age.

Cut to 2400 years later…….

Sameer is a young lad, mid to late 20’s. Although Sameer had shown promise as a teen, now he was by all means an average or even below-average individual in terms of what he had been able to achieve in life. Sameer had always felt he was destined for greatness but somehow, he had always fallen short. Sameer, brown, 5’11”, shredded to the bone. The depth and intensity easily visible in his eyes, yet he had always struggled to harness it. He had always struggled with finding purpose. Sameer seemed to be the spitting image of Hashir. Sameer was a prince by birth, a prince by blood and he had always felt like it. He had always had a princely casualness to his attitude, undeniably resilient though he was, it was his carefree attitude that defined him.

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