ing the Pirkhana he quietly placed the parcel on the cot and bolted the doors. He sat down on the floor in a daze…

That night, for the first time, drumbeats from the Pirkhana sent a chill up the spine of the entire village.

It was relentless, plaintive, melancholy…as if he was asking the deity of the Pir’s shrine…”Why me Baba, why me?”

Nobody dared go and disturb the mourning drummer.

Next morning people found Jeeona’s body half bent on the parcel, with his face upturned towards the Holy Quran that was kept on a shelf, facing West.

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