Untamable Temptations

Chapter One

Historical context

When the British first set foot in India , the Mughals were in rule over most part of the region. As a part of their revenue administration was the mansabdari system through which they regulated control over the land revenue of the country. This system, introduced by Mughal Emperor Akbar, remained in place from the late 16th Century till the fall of the Mughal Empire.

Often criticized for being the root of our modern feudal system, the mansabdari system was in fact different in many essential ways. First and foremost, the system granted ownership on a non-hereditary transferable basis. The officials, mansabdars, who were granted the job of overseeing of the land, never owned their mansabs but were only granted a share of its earnings as a reward for their work. Thus, since they never owned the land, they did not have the right to pass it on to their offspring, either. This non-ownership of land is the essential difference between modern feudalism and the Mughal mansabdari system. However, after the fall of the Mughal Empire, these mansabdars, turned into de facto hereditary landlords and petty chiefs of their mansabs.

In current times, almost half of Pakistan's GDP and the bulk of its export earnings are derived from the agricultural sector, which is controlled by a few thousand feudal families. Some of the most powerful feudal dynasties include the Jatoi, Zardari, Mehr, Chaudhary, Bhutto, Mirani, Khan, Zehri, Khar and Qureshi families. These families each own thousands of acres of prime agricultural land with thousands of villagers living on and tending to the family land. The Jatoi family owns 45,000 acres of land and the Khan family owns 30,000 acres. The Khar and Mirani families are smaller each owning 6,000 acres of agricultural land. With this concentration of economic power, they also have considerable political power.

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Mazeed Mustafa Khar stared out of the window with a rather tense gaze. His shoulders were locked straight and he had not relaxed since they set out that morning. Those with him had asked if something was wrong, but he dismissed their questioning before they could even form a full sentence.

"The accounts look good, but we need a good rainfall this time. " his advisor informed him. " Aapke Baba ne phone kiya hai"

"Hmm ," he said suddenly, turning towards him. He took the phone from the other man, shut it and tucked it into his coat. "Mujhe abhi kissi se baat nahin karni .

"But it is from your father ," the advisor protested, looking astonished. He was used to Mazeed's strange and sometimes disrespectful actions, but what if the call was of great importance?

"And I am his son. His heir . Do not forget your place. You answer to me," Mazeed Khar emphasized. He put a hand to his chest and tightened his jaw, eyes narrowing.

The other man's eyes immediately fell and he bowed his head. "Of course, chotte Saab. Please do forgive me," his advisor beseeched.

He did not reply, but instead shifted his gaze back to the window. It was a grim day in Balochistan. One would think almost the perfect setting for disaster to erupt, one ending in great amounts of grief.

He then heard the sound of horses galloping and shouts of many men. He stayed calm though and slowly edged towards the other door of his office .

"Saab, they attacked Nawabsaab ," a servant man shouted, latching onto the advisor with a crazed look of fear in his eyes.

"Murtasim Khan? " Mazeed seethed. The three men walked out,the first two frantically running towards the scene of crime, while Mazeed calmly followed them. The servant was clearly shaken, and he spoke in interval, gasping for breath.

" His car was attacked. All of the cars were being destroyed and bodies lied bloodied on the ground."

"Nawab sahab ki ghadi," the advisor gasped. He then turned with a dire look in his eyes. "We must go back, chotte Saab. We are to defend him with our life," he urged.

Mazeed only stared at him though, and then back at the car, which had been set on fire. He shook his head. "I have no cause to save a dead man. Now come along."

The man looked horrified, but listened to the order. He started down the path, only stopping when he realized his master had said.

" Nawabsaab.. is Ghadi .." he said stuttering.

Mazeed looked back once more at the burning c*****e . He smirked, "Murtasim Khan is dead. Yeh Ghadi aab khali hai ."

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Ghulam Mustafa Khar entered the living room with a most rigid of postures and darkest of eyes. He was accompanied by a few men. Everyone was shouting and arguing with one another over what had happened and in turn what would be done about it. Then he saw his eldest son, Mazeed, right in the middle of it. He stood high, on a table as he silenced the room.

"I come to you today as the sole survivor!" Mazeed shouted. He was passionate; his hand beat hard against his chest as his eyes moved to everyone in the room. " Humare admi ko..humara Nawab Murtasim Khan ko Qureshi ke logo ne maar diya !" he furthered.

"Bloody bastards!" a man from the crowd shouted. Everyone else in the room urged him on with cries of hate.

Mazeed nodded and held up his hands. They silenced again. "They came upon him from behind, like the true cowards they are! They came—" He paused and looked pained. "They came to murder our Khan and in turn the future of our people!"

"How dare they?" another man screamed. The crowd once again supported his outburst and all cheered in a savage agreement.

"Yes, how dare they," Mazeed nodded. He then pointed his finger to the people. " We need to stop being weak. We need to stop letting them win. Baba, mujhe ijazat dijiye. Main Qureshi khandan ke khoon Ki nadiyan baha doonga"

Everyone began to cheer and he smiled. He then turned though to see at his father and his face fell. He bowed his head and got down from the table.

Ghulam Mustafa looked at all of them with icy eyes and an eerie silence. He stepped into the middle of the room, practically meeting the eyes of every man. Then he raised his hand. "Is my son dead?" he bellowed.

" He isn't your son. He is your nephew" Mazeed said quietly

"I said is Murtasim dead?" Ghulam screamed with full force. He was shaking with a sense of lividness.

Finally, Mazeed stepped forth. "His car was burnt to the ground. I did not see an escape. In trying to rescue him even my own servant was murdered," he told him in a seemingly grim voice.

Ghulam turned his back to the crowd and grasped his chair for a moment. He looked as if he would fall over and even his servant moved to help him. "No," he uttered and held up his hand. His servant halted.

Ghulam then began to make the announcement. "If the Qureshi took Murtasim Khan then war it is. Burn the Qureshis to the ground—"

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The Qureshi Haveli, spanning acres of land, stood tall among the lush green fields surrounding it. Its white marble structure boasted of generations of wealth and feudal legacy. It was a bright morning and a beautiful voice was resonating around the Haveli, stirring the occupants up from their slumber.

In the chilly valleys of Balochistan, trees with fading orange leaves stand tall with a flowing dark blue river flowing between them. This beautiful province boasts not only mountains and dessert but also has many beautiful beaches. A land home to mountains, proud and formidable, untouched and unaltered by modern touch, with a beauty unlike any other conventional tourist spot. Mirroring the landscape, the people remain conquered and unbent, but loyal to a fault. Loyalties that were divided; because within the sovereign nation of Pakistan, there were many feudal lords who required loyalty and blood from their people- thousands of farmers and villagers who lived within their lands.

On this bright morning, the clear melodic voice rushed through the tall windows on the second floor, stirring Farah Ali awake. Truth to be told, she was already almost awake due to the ministrations of her husband, Nawabzada Arsalan Qureshi.

He smiled warmly at his wife , leaning his head down to press a kiss to her forehead and then pulling her hair back. His lips were now sucking onto her neck as his hands traced her curves.

" Arsalan..." Farah whispered, running a hand through his hair for a few moments. " Abhi nahin"

He didn't stop but just pressed himself closer to her as he kissed her. She retracted her hand from his hair and let it fall onto his back, rubbing soft circles through the fabric of his kurta. He mewled a little before turning his head, his opposite cheek going to rest on her chest — the coldness of his flesh making her flinch slightly. " Arsalan, we must get up. Aaj humari flight hai"

He whined at the words, digging his face closer into her body while tightening his grip around you. His fingertips traveled lightly along her skin, softly tickling and tracing before she pushed harder, " If we are late, Ammi will only blame me. "

He groaned. " Aisa waqt mein toh Ammi ke baare baat mat karo.."

She didn't say anything, just lied there tracing his moustache " She sings like an angel..hai na?"

He sighed " And now we are talking about my sister.."

She laughed cheekily " Well, she does sing beautifully. Imran bhai ki kismet bhi bahut acchi hai. Every morning will start with him hearing her lovely voice"

Arsalan leaned back on the pillow, clearly not getting anywhere with his wife this morning " Let's hope he enjoys old school Bollywood songs"

Farah nodded, chewing her lip " Kissi ne Meerab se baat Ki hai? Does she even know what Ammi aur Agha Jaan are planning? Or does she think we are just going to attend Aziz Bhai's wedding?"

Arsalan tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, still marveling at his wife's beauty "Ammi baat karego, Farah. Waise bhi nothing is finalized. Bas Baro Ki khwaish hai.. na Imran se kuch poocha gaya hai na hi Meerab se.."

Farah rolled her eyes " Arsalan, tumhe lagta hai Imran bhai mana karenge? Woh toh humare Nikkah ke waqt se Meerab ke deewane ho Gaye hai. Mujhe lagta hai Ki.."

" Mujhe lagta hai Ki tumhe Meerab ko bhool kar, mujhpe concentrate karna chahiye.." he interrupted

Shouhar hoon tumhara. Kheyal rakh liya karo thoda.."

Farah giggled sitting up, her long hair acting like a curtain as she said " Bahut kheyal rakhti hoon tumhara. It's not my fault that you are insatiable"

He flipped her down and pressed her against the pillows. " Actually it is. Na hi tum itni khoobsurat hoti aur nahi main itna pagal hota tumhare pyar mein"

She squealed and he muffled her protest with kisses. Let it known that Nawabzada Arsalan Qureshi and his begum were both running late that morning.

One storey down, in the lavish living room of the Haveli, Suraiya Begum wasn't happy. She was watching over the arrangements of the travel and sighing in disappointment. The Qureshis were traveling to Skardu to attend the wedding of Aziz Ali, eldest son of Justice Ali. It was probably the most important wedding of the season, politically speaking. The Qureshis had been invited of course, due to their political clout and also because their son had married Justice Ali's niece Farah.

" Saare saman ghadi mein rakh doon, Begum Sahiba" the servant said respectfully

Begum Suraiya shook her head, her mouth lifting slightly " I don't see anyone ready to go.."

" Badi Ammi, main taiyar hoon" a sweet voice said from behind her. As it was with her, she swept in the room and all eyes were on her. It wasn't even that she was the most beautiful girl they had ever ever seen. No, there was just something about Meerab Akram Qureshi. At 18 she was tall and slender, her complexion smooth and pink, and her eyes.. maybe it was her eyes. They were chocolate brown seems to say so much without saying anything. If there was anything remotely mysterious about Meerab, it was her eyes which vaguely hinted about her painful past. The rest of her was just sunshine... her ever ready smile, her helpful nature, her kindness to everyone and her sweet, beautiful voice.

Begum Suraiya loved her with everything she had. If she had her way, her niece wouldn't be going anywhere- but would be married off to her only son. But alas, Meerab and Arsalan had grown up together and saw each other as siblings. Arsalan had chosen Farah. he had fallen head over heels in love with her and there was literally nothing that could be done.

And now Nawab Qureshi had the wish to wed Meerab to Imran Ali, the younger son of Justice Ali. It kind of made her sad. She would hate to see her her daughter go. But that's how the world work.

" Meerab Jaan, did you put your luggage in? Everything ready?"

Before she could answer, Nawab Qureshi entered with a grim look on his face. Begum Suraiya could feel the tension radiating from him. As could Meerab.

" Agha Jaan, Sab khariyat?" She asked looking at him intently.

" Kuch khariyat nahin hai..Arsalan ko bulayi" he commanded. Begum Suraiya tutted " Chupa hoga aapni biwi ke aanchal mein."

" Abhi ke abhi aane ke liye kahiye" Agha Jaan thundered and Meerab took off the stairs.

" Kya hua, Nawab Saab?" His wife asked concerned.

The man chewed his lip " Tabai aa rahi hai. Murtasim Khan maar chuka hai."

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The men were agitated. They were hungry for blood. And tempers were running high.. but Ghulam Khar hadn't allowed anyone to move. He wasn't one to attack the enemy without a proper strategy. His eldest, Mazeed, seemed very disgruntled by this.

It was then that the door opened and everyone turned to see Musa Khar, his youngest son run to wards him.

" Babajaan, forgive me for interrupting, but I bring urgent news. I have just heard word from Hyderabad that Murtasim bhai was not in his car when it set out that morning,"

Ghulam's eyes widened and he held a hand to his heart.

"That is impossible!" Mazeed shook his head and scoffed. He appeared very unhappy.

His father immediately looked to him. "Mazeed , did you or did you not see Murtasim get into the car ?" he demanded. His eyes threatened him to be certain.

He stared at him for a moment. Then he shook his head and turned away.

Ghulam sighed in relief and mumbled a prayer under his breath. Then he looked back to the crowd. "No war yet, not until my son, is found!" he proclaimed.

No one in the crowd dared to protest, not even Mazeed .The crowd slowly began to talk, a low murmur sound about the room.

Musa , who watched, looked for his father's reaction, shook his head, as his father wondered "Now if we only could know where Murtasim truly is."

Musa sighed, "If you could grant me only one guess, Baba ."

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Hyderabad, Pakistan

"Wake-up, Nawab Saab ," a girl's voice whispered in the most playful of tones.

Murtasim who lied half-asleep on his back, batted his eyes open. He felt feminine fingertips trailing over his back while those of another used a feather to tickle the skin of his cheek.

"Yes, our beautiful Khan," the other girl giggled.

He smirked and opened his eyes fully. Both girls kneeled before the bed smiling at him. They were two beautiful women of the night had had brought back to his room the night before.

He laughed and shot up suddenly. Both girls giggled and backed away from him. "Who shall be first?" he asked..

They screamed in giggles and ran to get on the bed. One succeeded, but the other one was grabbed from behind.

He immediately began to pull off her rather thin nightgown and kicked it to the floor. He then pushed her down onto the bed, so that she lied on her stomach. He fell down on top of her and moved her hair to kiss the back of her neck. Then he rose again and positioned himself for entry.

He began to thrust into her, first quickly and anxiously, but then slowly and powerfully. The girl moaned in delight and her eyes rolled back into her head. He looked to the ceiling and released a sigh of pure s****l relief.

He felt the other girl wrap her arms around him from behind. He smirked and continued to penetrate the one on the bed while the other kissed his neck.

" Nawabsaab is so powerful. I want a turn," she begged in his ear. Her voice was a whine, but that of a tantalizing one.

Murtasim nodded and shoved the other girl forward as he pulled out. He turned and yanked the one standing towards him. He kissed her on her lips feverishly as his hands reached under her thighs to hoist her upwards. He had just thrown her onto the bed when the doors suddenly opened.

"Nawabsaab —"

Murtasim looked up, first angered for being interrupted. Then he shoved the girl down and put on a robe

" Bakhtu , tumhe pata hain ke mujhe disturb nahin karna hai abhi "

Bakhtu averted his eyes away from the naked women immediately. Instead he looked down and nodded his head. " Ghulam Saab apko pagalo Ki Tarah dhund rahe hai ," he answered. " There's a rumor that you are dead"

"Oh s**t," Murtasim sighed as his face fell.

He then laughed and called after him right before the doors closed. "And to think, I was just starting to have fun!"

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The smack of hard soles of the shoes was starting to be grate on one's ears but Ghulam Khar hadn't stopped striding from one part of the room to the other. And that only stopped when the call connected.

Nawab Malik Murtasim Khan sounded casual as he held the cellphone to his ear. His voice was light and his uncle to hear the smirk in it.

"Ghulam Mamu, abhi bhi aapke itne ache din nahin aaya.. Zinda hoon main" he said

"Shukr Alhamdullilah Murtasim. Ya Allah, tumhe khabar bhi hai yaha Kya chal raha tha?" His uncle said softly " Tumhari Ammi Ki halat toh sambhalne wali nahin thi"

There was a pause in which Murtasim lit a cigarette.

He took a puff, ensuring no emotions were detected in his voice as he answered "Ammi se kahiyega- aisa koi Qureshi paida nahin hua hai Jo Murtasim Khan ko khatam karde "

There was a beat of silence and then he said "So you are sure it was them?"

" Who else could it be?"

"Itni zurrat ho gayi unki? Ke ab mujhpe hamla kare?" Murtasim asked in a deadly voice.

Ghulam Khar exchanged a look with his son once more. " Haan.. they are trying to rise up in ranks ," he answered.

Murtasim laughed. It wasn't a good sound. There wasn't much humor there though.

" And how will they rise up the ranks? Unki Adhi se zyada zameen toh main control karta hoon" he said his rage well contained.

" With marriage. They are trying to marry their daughter off to Justice Ali's family" came the answer from his uncle " You know what that means"

Murtasim waited for the rage to strike.Surprisingly he was rather calm, but just much more rigid like before.

" You are going to Skardu to attend Aziz Ali's wedding. Go speak to Justice Ali. Tell him we won't support his election campaign if this goes through. We can't let this marriage happen , Murtasim"

Murtasim sighed and his voice was irritated " What would you have me to do? Pimp myself for marriage like they are doing their daughter. Please Imran Ali isn't my type"

Ghulam nodded but he said . " you have to take this seriously. I believe that was what started the most of this—other than your planned assassination of course," he noted.

"Like the Qureshis could assassinate anyone, especially me . It is nothing, but an insult in that they underestimated the strength of my men ," he returned, still not fazed in the least.

" Murtasim.."

There was a click on the phone and the voice that came in through it was deadly quiet. But it was so full of rage that Ghulam Khar swallowed hard.

" Let them marry their daughter off to whoever they want. Do whatever they want to increase their influence. They will never be safe from me. Until I have the last ounce of blood in my body or my last heartbeat - I will never stop hunting them down.."

And with that deadly whisper, he was gone.