If I had not been in the company of Khotha-e-Aval, I swear by all the horrors hidden under the dark shroud that covers this land, I would be dead now. We were thrown through the air by the force of the blasted trap. It went off just as we crossed the bridge. Our carriage was split into two. A thick plume of dusty smoke rose up below us. The screams of frightened birds punctuated the stench of burning flesh. I was meant to be travelling with the body guards, but at the last minute, Khotha-e-Aval made me swap carriages. They are all dead now.

I saw my life and my life’s work flash in front of my eyes. How did this land which had been created for those people who had suffered for too long, end up being ruled by stupid donkeys. I prayed to the Almighty, just give me one more chance so that I can at least tell the world what I have seen.

As ridiculous as it may sound, he was braying as he was tossing and turning through the air. He landed on his head. I fell down with a painful thud next to him. How we landed in the only clearing on the craggy rocks is a mystery to me. I was trying to work out if anything had broken when I saw him open his eyes. The square lenses of his glasses were cracked. He was on his back. His four legs were pointing upwards and his neck was twisted towards me. A small twig was lodged in his straight black hair, just above the streaks on his greying temples . For a Khotha, he had an unusually round face, on which sat a slither of a greying moustache. My pen was stuck in his behind.

Spitting out some debris he purred his lips and thundered, ‘Secretary, do you still have your pen?’

A dismembered leg landed close to us.