One day there was no man, just Rahat….
And then there was one, his slain countrymen were stacked around him, it was Rahat Ali, the fighter, standing tall like the ultimate warrior
A scared,scarred, nation watched on. Their hope should’ve been gone. But together they believed in Rahat. He was more than just a mere man
You could hear the ground shake in Pakistan as the chant started getting louder each ball. rahat. Rahat. RAHAT.
His only weapon, a busted back foot cover drive that was passed down to him from his father, was what he used as the Barmy Army charged him
The Rahat clan, they have always said, fights on for Pakistan until the end. They don’t know how to give up. They bleed green.
It doesn’t matter, Rahat, it is over. Rahat turns his back on the pitiful doubters. It is never over until Rahat is defeated.
We may lose, Rahat sighs through pained breaths, but I must give my people something. A flicker of something that hints at a better future.
He squints, the sun seems harsher now, but he battles through each attack. His heart may be broken, but not his spirit.
The enemy sang their vicious battle songs, to a lesser man, to even the strongest of men, it would have beaten them, not Rahat. Never Rahat
Rahat kicked at his muscular horse, Sohail, which reared up violently at his attackers. Two brave animals, who in this fight, had become one
There was a pause in the battle, Rahat took Sohail to the river and let him have a much-deserved drink. Rahat knew it may be there last.
Then Sohail fell. Rahat looked at the beautiful blue sky, then down at the cold hard ground. It was over. There was no point going on.
Rahat had done all Rahat could. It was magnificent, but it wasn’t enough. He limped from the battle, a proud, but beaten man.
From now until the end of time, every time a warrior fights on this land, the trees will whisper Rahat. Rahat. Rahat.
Stolen from my twitter feed.