Thousand Years | A Shubman Gill & Ishan Kishan Fanfiction ✓

Bareen and Shuhul

1167 AD, Gulmarg 

Shuhul had a bowl full of saffron flowers in front of him. He was picking saffron and leaving the purple petalled flowers in a vessel that would be further used by his mother for medicinal purposes. He did not require as much strength as Bareen who was crushing the tea leaves to extract their juice. He saw sweat trickling down Bareen’s forehead and watched him wipe it with his elbow. 

Shuhul quickened his pace and finished with the saffron so that he could take up grinding the spices, for all he knew, Bareen would take up all the physically taxing tasks if he could and leave all the mixing and brewing for Shuhul. 

And someone needed to take care of the boy who had taken the initiative to brew Kahwa tea for their small community in this bone-chilling winter. Someone needed to remind Bareen that while it was very natural for him to take after his mother, who was a revered healer, it was equally important for him to take care of himself. 

And Shuhul had shouldered this responsibility with a passion that mirrored Bareen’s devotion for his people. 

And hence, everyday, at the crack of dawn, the two boys set out with coal and Kahwa powder, persuading everyone to start their day with a drink that was not only bound to keep them warm but also had antioxidant and digestive properties that would further provide them with the strength they would need for battling the chilly winds and lingering fogs that lied ahead of them. 

After each door had been knocked and each person in the area replenished with hot tea, the two would brew some for each other, sit in Bareen's house and drink tea in absolute silence, savouring the drink as it caressed their sore throats.

Winters in Gulmarg could be bitingly cold but they could not freeze the warmth of amity. 

****** 

1192 AD, Gulmarg

Bareen frantically flipped through his mother's diary that contained descriptions of various illnesses and her tried and trusted remedies to them but he could not find a remedy that matched the description of Shuhul’s illness. His frown was so deep that it seemed like he had never smiled. 

His eyes kept looking at Shuhul’s body that was turning more yellow as time passed. 

He wished his mother had been alive. She would know what to do. She would know how to heal. Bareen, even though fairly skilled in medicine, had always felt that he lacked the intuitive abilities his mother possessed. 

“Bareen…” the faint voice of his friend caused him to reach his side with rapid movement. 

“Yes, Shuhul?” 

“How long have you been here?” Shuhul, who had been struggling to open his eyes, was now looking at him with tired eyes. 

Bareen knew why he was asking this. He wanted to know if his illness was contagious. To an extent, it was. His wife who had used wet cloth to regulate his fever and touched him occasionally, had fallen ill and decided to take their daughter with her to her mother's place for some time. 

Bareen too had started experiencing the hold of the mysterious illnesses and felt immensely weak. In his body, but not in his heart. Never in his heart. 

“I'm not going anywhere, Shuhul.” He said, his voice shaking with the solidity of resolve. 

“Bareen, please. You have a family to return to.” 

“Oh. And you're not my family?” said Bareen, with so much hurt in his voice that Shuhul sighed.

“Your mother was right. You're too sentimental to be a healer.” 

Bareen shook his head and bent his head down, looking for clues in the book. 

“Bareen, if I tell you that my last wish is that you go back-” 

“Shuhul, either I will find something that will help you regain your health or we will perish together.” 

Shuhul closed his eyes. His mind had taken him back to his youth, when he would make Kahwa with Bareen. Those laborious mornings spent with his friend were more dear to him than any leisure. 

If death would come to him and only him, in this moment, he would feel at peace knowing that Bareen was spared. 

But that was not to be so. 

His friend’s stubbornness worked well with the magic of medicine and Shuhul recovered. 

He grew old to live and see many more winters of Gulmarg, spending his time drinking Kahwa with his old friend.