At the heart of the tale of the Shopank and the Kohboz lies a monster. The monster, sadly, gobbles up everything—leaving nothing. Two strange souls live in different corners of the world. A world where the earth and sky are always shrouded in fear, smoke, sorrow, and shattered hope—even the morning feels like night. Fires were burning everywhere, and the air smelled of strange poignant of helplessness. In that broken and painful world, lived Shopank—a tired and weak soul with a exhausted heart. Life had pushed him down at every step. There was no peace, no hope, only pain and survival. Hunger and fear were all his best companions. He struggles every day to survive without knowing why life is keeping him alive at all.

‎ It was late 2022 and early 2023, one day, something strange happened. Something that surprised his heart deeper than anything else ever had. As Shopank padded in a crowded city, he saw her, Kohboz. A shadow so beautiful that the entire sky became dull next to her. Her wings were made of diamonds and gold. Her feathers shone brighter than the sun. The way she flew was not flying but it felt the whole world bowed down to her. She wasn’t just a little figure. She was a living miracle, a burning dream flying amidst the ashes.

‎ When Shopank saw Kohboz, something inside him broke. It was not a normal feeling but a soft, powerful sight that caught him from his heart. His heart felt heavier and felt as if someone has opened it and lit a fire inside. In the same way, a strange weight came into his feet as if his body became someone else’s and he is no longer able to command it. He could not resist to look away and his eyes where fixed on her. His heart bit fast and faster as if he has seen a ghost in the middle of the night. As long as his eyes gazed her, fear filled his mind. A sharp but aching kind of fear. “How someone like me could even dare to think of her?” he kept asking himself over and over.

Shopank no longer dares to even go near Kohboz because he knows his place. A penniless pauper, weak and full of dust, had no right to even speak to someone so powerful, so beautiful, so beyond everything. So, he did what frightened his foundations, but he hid. From behind broken trees and under burnt leaves, he kept watching her. Every time her shadow passed over him, his heartbeat became low. Every glance of her shadow was like a soft flower attracting his soul. He wanted to speak, but every word died inside him before it could ever come out.

‎ With the same momentum, the world around them kept burning. Fires were consuming the heavy mountains from Mubarak Qazi’s Sayai-e-Jai to Shitaal’s Gaddani, to Sheeran’s Lakh, and Wajul’s Chilton and Bolan. Lights were disappearing every day. The surroundings were filled with the sobbing of mothers, looking for their missing little ones, hoping to find even a small piece of them to bury. Smoke never left the air. The ground was soaked in pain. But amid all this, Shopank was not thinking about the burning world. No, his own heart was burning even worse. His war was no longer with the outside world. His war was with himself, with the feelings that Kohboz had unknowingly planted deep inside him.

‎ For Shopank, days turned into weeks, weeks into months. A whole year passed. But the fire inside Shopank’s heart did not die. But the ache in his heart grew stronger and deeper. What once flickered now raged like a storm that burned without flame and without mercy. He could not take the burden of silence anymore. He wanted, no, needed to connect with Kohboz. He had to, even if it destroyed him. But how? How does a penniless come near an unreachable whose wings kiss the clouds? The answer wasn’t easy. He started asking about the wind, the mountains, the trees, and the broken world around him. He searched for ways, looked for chances, and begged the universe for even the smallest bridge between their two impossible worlds.

‎ The day came, and the door of luck opened. A way founded. A small way, but still away. A path where Kohboz often gathers with her friends during the sunset when the sky turns gold and red. A path where maybe, just maybe, he could send her a message through a friend. The knowledge filled him with both hope and fear. He sat alone under a roof, whose all corners were shining. “What if Kohboz ignores me? What if she kills me with her beauty? What if I destroy what little peace I have left?” His nerves trembled at every thought.

‎ Then, there comes a day when the pain of silence feels heavier than the fear of failure. Shopank stood at that point. On a night when he was sitting at the top of Shaal’s Jabl-Noor, the sky was dark over the entire Shaal, and everything was shining. But the wind was cruel, warm, and barbaric, with the one side of the mountain a lightning image. Shopank was gathering every piece of courage left in his body. He did not use words. Words were too weak. Instead, he sent a message through the rhythm of her friend. A melody, a pattern, a silent scream that only the soul could understand: “Kohboz… yes you!… you. I exist because you exist.”

‎ As he got one of her friends after a year of constant struggle, he was in the clouds. It was the friend who emerged as a bridge between both. As soon as the message left his space for her, Shopank felt like the ground was shaking beneath him. His tiny heart raced faster than it ever had. What had he done? What if the sky swallowed his message and buried it forever? What if Kohboz never even noticed? What if he had just screamed into a wall that had no ears? Panic appeared in his fragile body. His hands, legs, and even the whole of his body lost working and trembled. His breath rose sharp. Every second felt like a lifetime, filled with fear, regret, and hopeless waiting.

‎ Hours passed. Then a full day, then another! The silence was heavier than Chilton. Shopank started whispering to himself, “I shouldn’t have done this. I was foolish. I was stupid. What was I thinking?” He felt more depressed than ever. His hands curled around his body as if to hide him from the shame. But then, something happened. From the broken, bloody mountains and angry sky, a small beam appeared. It was not the sun. It was not fire. It was a feather. A single glowing feather, very soft yet burning, floated down toward him like a star falling from the heavens.

‎ The feather landed naively in front of Shopank. Shaal Ki Yada’s book was dropped from his hands. It was warm but did not burn. It is beautiful but also heavy. And the feather carried a message that was not in words but in ache: “You fly too close to a fire that was not made for you, and I do not feel like this and I do not care who you are.” The words hit him like floods hit the Gwadar. Neither was it a silent Yes nor a big NO. It was not rejection. But, also, it was not an acceptance either. It was something worse. That was something confusing, painful, and sharp. A message that was both kind and cruel at the same time. It left him frozen, unsure whether to hope or to cry.

‎ For a long time, Shopank just sat there. Looking at the feather, he tried to understand what had happened. His chest smouldered not in fire but with an ache which burned without light and without relief. And his legs refused to move. The feather slowly turned into an ash while leaving nothing behind. Not a mark. Not a trace. Just emptiness! The sky returned to its usual cruelty. The fires still burned. The screams still echoed. And the wind still carried stories of those who disappeared with a shirt in the nights. But none of it felt as hard as the silence that now lived inside Shopank’s chest.

‎ The small but beautiful corner of the world is still burning with cruelty, brutality, and mercilessness. Smoke is turning the blue sky into black, and the earth continues to be cracked, soaked in blood and sorrow. But Shopank is now stuck between two fires.  On one side was Kohboz, the light of his heart, the silent reason his soul continued to breathe. On the other side stood a world wounded beyond recognition calling for justice and existence. Both fires pulled him. One whispered love, uncertain yet pure. The other calls him to resist and survive. Shopank stands in the middle, broken, torn, confused, yet unable to escape.

‎ This is just the beginning of the tale of Shopank and Kohboz. The fire between them still burns and their story remains unfinished. The second part will continue the story.

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