Alam Gir was riding a camel across the sand dunes while the sun hung high up above his head as it blazed with its splendid glory; raising the temperature high enough to for a person's vision to go distorted and hazy.
Alam had no set destination but just a direction. He had no home, it lay far behind him as he moved further away from it.
He was a tall boy of about 6`3, with average looks and lean frame. Coupled with thick eyebrows and eyelashes. His pair of pupil were hazy brown with a tone of glowing beige skin. The lower part from his lips were covered with a cloth to shelter from billowing winds carrying dense amount of sand with it. The sand swirled about the high intensity of the sun rays, making it seem like scorching sparks once it hit the skin. Clad in crimson red robe, he rode the camel, marching forward to the north.
Alam had already come in terms with his fate as a vagabond; a wanderer with no destination. He was migrating from the eastern part of the huge continent to the north-west. In those barren lands, he was a warrior, a kind which is a rare occurrence. Much of the reason for this is because the tribe he was born in was known as a Biddu Tribe. The families in these tribes were sheep herders by choice. These people cultivated sheep and would always migrate for better land with pasture and herbs for the sheep to feed on.
The people of the Biddu Tribe, while moving from one place to another would be exposed to different kind of cultures. While mingling with them, they learned: their mythologies, the deities they worshiped, stories of valor and heroism of warriors, stories of tragic romance between lovers, songs and poems. Then these very people would educate their children in the eloquence of speech. These children growing up would listen to their elders with utmost reverence and eagerness; carrying the tradition of memorizing the stories and imparting it to a new audience who are hungry to learn of the lands they might never visit or would if their interest is piqued.
Alam was different in some ways but nor entirely; he loved the stories, the poems,
the legends. But rather than assuming the traditional role of just another story teller like his predecessors, he imagined himself as a warrior who by raising his blade, with a might to destroy mountains and divide the oceans, would devastate his enemies while walking the path of a cultivator and search for the true meaning of his existence, like those in the legends, and his role in this life.
To make this a reality, Alam turned to and pleaded his parents and elders to show him the way of a warrior. Little did he know that these people of his hardly ever have the desire for power or ambition. These people just wanted to survive and live a life of a story teller, a tradition going on for years. This request from a 15 year old Alam, surprised them. But not enough to shock them because they have seen these kind of reactions from the audience they told the stories to, of different lands and the result sometimes would be exactly the same as Alam. 293Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxPaCkt5VQI
to be continued...yawnns 126.96.36.199da2