The path stretched endlessly ahead. A barren, treeless road disappeared into the distance as the traveler trudged forward through the howling dust storm. The wind roared, whistled, and sighed, swirling thick clouds of dust that rose and fell in endless spirals, making the storm denser.

The traveler was surrounded by a wall of dust, an imprisoning veil that obscured everything beyond. He could see nothing ahead, but only the swirling haze. He had left the town when the air was still, when silence reigned and life moved on in quiet routine. Men, women, children, and the elderly went about their day, their eyes speaking a language of unspoken words. The town was known for its quiet nature, where people laughed more than they spoke. Even newborns entered the world with laughter, which only later turned into cries.

A sense of foreboding had gripped the traveler. He had always associated such silence with imminent disaster, and he feared accidents above all else. Whenever he sensed calamity, he would leave. His mother had died unexpectedly when he was still a child. He hadn’t believed it possible — after all. His grandmother was still alive. But one day, while working on the farm with other women, she had been bitten by a snake. Death had been instant, arriving before she could even cry out.

Snakes had never been seen in the town before. They existed only in stories, in metaphors and idiomatic phrases. The very appearance of the snake had been an accident — a random twist of fate. The people often said that snakes and mendicants had no home; that they always appeared and disappeared unexpectedly. The town had sunk into an eerie silence after his mother’s death, as if every voice had been swallowed whole.

Now, the traveler pressed forward, lost in the rhythm of his own footsteps, oblivious to time and distance. He heard the trumpeting of elephants and the roar of lions, but he kept walking — mesmerized by the beat of his own steps. Then, suddenly, a laughter erupted — a burst of joy followed by sighs and sobs. It shattered his rhythm.

The storm had thickened. He was enclosed within walls of dust — a prison of swirling earth. Though he was safe within its embrace, he felt suffocated. He brushed the dust off his chest, watching as small clouds rose from his body. His arms, too, were coated in dust, and for a moment, a chilling thought gripped him: Was he made of dust rather than flesh and bone? Fear coursed through him. Was this, too, an accident? He thought of his mother’s death and suddenly felt as if snakes slithered around him. The only sound that remained was a faint hissing.

Lowering his gaze, he resumed his journey. He felt as if he were walking not on a road, but on a wall. Yet as he moved, his fear began to dissolve, returning his confidence. He dusted off his clothes and felt his body solidify once more. But the question still haunted him: Was he turning to dust?

Then, abruptly, he stopped. Through the thick storm, he glimpsed a thin veil of light. He couldn’t tell whether it was dawn or dusk. The light, though faint, held promise. He scanned his surroundings — no sign of snakes. He moved forward with renewed certainty, listening intently. The hissing had vanished. The wind, once wild and furious, had softened its sound shifting like a melody. Wrapped in this ethereal glow, he saw houses in the distance.

He hadn’t expected to find any settlement there. He had long believed he would either walk himself to death or succumb to snakebite. But now, curiosity sparked within him. He decided to enter the first house. Fear and hesitation gripped him as he approached. He lingered at the threshold, and then stepped inside without knocking.

In the narrow courtyard stood the gnarled stump of an old tree with its rigid and lifeless trunk. Nearby it lay a cot, and a man and a woman were lying on it. The man was skeletal, his body reduced to a mere husk. The woman, by contrast, was full-bodied and strong. Seeing the cot, exhaustion crashed over the traveler. He felt as if he had been walking his entire life, and that cot was his final refuge.

Without hesitation, he lifted the skeletal man and placed him on the ground. The man looked at him with hollow eyes, as if he wanted to speak but lacked the strength. The traveler then turned to the woman. She was warm, alive. It was clear — the man had not wasted away from hunger; he was afflicted by something else.

The traveler laid himself down beside the woman. Her body was giving off warmth which immediately seeped into his weary bones. He felt as if she had been there all along, as if he had never traveled at all. The dust of his fears momentarily settled. If her warmth could touch him, he reasoned with himself, then he was still flesh and blood. He reached out hesitantly, and her body responded. She trembled, poised at the brim of a crater with some long-suppressed emotion.

And then the woman ignited like flame meeting the gunpowder. She attacked him with a hunger he did not expect. The cot became their battleground — a place of shifting roles. They were on a small cot. One moment he was beneath her, the next moment he was on top of her; now on the right side and now on the left. There were flames in her breath and sweet pleasure in her voice. She was laughing, yipping, pleading and calling someone in ecstasy.

The traveler was ensnared, bound by exhaustion and desire. He did not wish to stay, but he lacked the strength to flee. He wanted to escape, but the cot held him captive. He was paying his ransom, and she was an expert in collecting her due.

The woman emboldened, sensing no one would hear him over the wind’s roar. She trembled and panted, relentlessly in her conquest. She was sweating profusely. She was panting and trembling and trembling and panting. And then, the traveler too became aggressive.

At last he collapsed with a powerful ejection. But as he lay there, he felt something — snakes, slithering over his body. His fears surged back. The memories of past accidents resurfaced. The woman covered him, feeling his distress.

The dust storm raged on, swirling around them. The old tree stump stood silent beside the cot. The wind howled, and then softened. The dust began to settle, like weary birds returning home.

Silence reclaimed the world. The silence enveloped and echoed like his hometown; and his past as well.

Then, there was light. A light that spread like a message, filling the air with quiet revelation. When the traveler awoke, he turned to the skeleton on the ground. Its eyes gleamed with an eerie light.

He turned toward the woman, and then rose to his feet. Looking up at the sky, he saw the same gleam floating above. A chilling realization gripped him — another accident was coming.

He glanced back at the skeleton. It was moving. The snakes were returning. He could feel them all around him once more.

….

(Translated from URDU by Khalid Mahmood)

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