What a land it was that I walked on.

Everywhere I turned I saw perfection as nature around me drew

upon itself a symphony to rejoice in its splendor.

The wind on my face had a hint of the shores upon which upon which I played tag and ran away
from my old man when it was time for a thumping. Years of turmoil and hardships have led me to this
moment as I rest my tired legs under a grand oak and shed the yoke of rule from my shoulder. I let my
eyes wonder and take in the grand peaks of Ladakh and watch the clouds curl around its higher reaches
like a restless lover in the night. As I look to the East my eyes drink in the splendor of the rolling green
hills dotted with settlements with spirals of lazy smoke rising from their chimneys. Truly it was a fine day
to die and the sky only confirmed this emotion I felt. What a sight it was, the sky had taken on the color
of a hundred bon fires with riots of red and orange competing for dominance.

My thought get drawn to a nagging sensation in my chest as I feel breadth I take requiring more
effort than its predecessor, thanks to an arrow wound from the battle of Hyandane.

This land I call home and love dearly was not always this idyllic and blissful. The peace I
witnessed now was nothing but short of a miracle. There was a time when this very land I would give my
last breath for gladly was being torn apart and caused the needless suffering of un-accountable amount
of innocent souls. Great armies traversed the land to join arms with brothers and in some exceptional
cases sworn enemies. This goes to show that the brush of destiny itself had descended upon our land to
paint its future.

I always find it laughable when young men talk about good and evil and armies of the light and
the dark clashing in a sea of swords pierced with the ring of steels. So determined in their beliefs
because from where I stood many years ago everything was a shade of gray. I have killed good men and
toasted with bastards. Does that make me evil I wonder because what sets a man apart if he does not
believe in a principle?

A good man might have found himself on the opposite side of the battle field from me following
a tyrant whereas an opportunistic bastard may have stood beside me for a common goal. Friends I knew
from childhood and my adult years flash before my eyes and tell me its time to join them and shed this
frail body.

Who am I you may wonder. My name is Mahidi-Al-Batista of the Vasorel tribe. I shaped and
molded the land upon which I take my last breathe. The wind whips around nicking at my body like a
playful puppy reminding me that even as my soul departs from my frail body, my legacy still live on and
this is my story.

The above passage is the intellectual property of Fahd Mohammed Dameer

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