Kashmir, in a small county town, the blazing sun hung overhead—not, it should be said, like a furnace suspended in the air. The local temperature had already reached forty-five degrees, with the ground emanating steam, like the Mount of Flames. Even the locals felt the intense heat, and if one did not stand in the shade, they might be roasted in a short time, and if not roasted, they might face the danger of sunstroke.
But from the distance came a man, dressed in long sleeves and pants, tall and strong, wearing sunglasses and a headscarf, his specific features indistinct, with a long beard. Each step he took was powerful, carrying a backpack on his back, like a traveler.
Some dark-skinned Indians hiding in the shade stared at this traveler, their eyes showing greed because the other held a piece of meat, cooked and seasoned, exuding aroma, enticing their taste buds, making them restless, wanting to dash up and snatch it.
