Ghouri vs Prithvi- A Time Travel story-From Myth to Reality, Series: The Time Pastures

 Ghouri vs Prithvi- A Time Travel story-From Myth to Reality

Series: The Time Pastures

Writer: Saima Nadeem

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Preface

The mysteries and myths of the past are no longer shrouded in secrecy. Thanks to the discovery of space-time pockets, images and events from history are now preserved—accessible to those who dare to explore them. What was once the domain of imagination can now be witnessed, even experienced.

In this thrilling journey through time, scientist Zaka teams up with two cousins on a daring mission: to travel back to the 12th century and uncover the truth behind one of their region’s myth. What they find challenges long-held beliefs and ignites an unforgettable adventure.

Join them as they step beyond the boundaries of time—where science meets myth, and the past comes vividly to life.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright © 2026 by Saima Nadeem

Disclaimer

This is a work of fiction. All the names, characters, images, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

 

 

 

 

GHOURI VS PRITHVI

 

CH 1

 

Luckier boys

‘Pakistan has successfully launched a land-to-land surface missile named Ghouri III. The Ghouri ballistic missile range is a medium-range missile that can carry both conventional and nuclear warheads up to a distance of 1500 kilometers.’

There was a thrill and eagerness for the new test. Ghouri missile range was being compared with the Prithvi missile range of their rival country. 

Hassan’s father was drinking green tea while watching the news. The volume of news is usually so loud in Pakistan that everyone can overhear news even if no one is interested.

Hassan and Murtaza were preparing for their mathematics exam. They were already stuck with too many similar, but unlike algebraic formulae, when the tickers of this news cracked their effort.

‘Earlier, boys were so lucky; they used to fight most of their lives. Without any missiles, satellites… hand-to-hand combat… seeing the enemy’s dropping face with your own eyes. This was the real thrill. Practicing archery, swordsmanship, spear fighting…’ Hassan got up and acted like a warrior.

‘No study, no tension, and no L.H.S. =R.H.S. I wish I could be a warrior of past times.’ Hassan slipped away from his register and lay straight on the bed. He was staring at the roof while listening to the news.

‘Sultan Mohammad Ghori, also known as Shahabuddin Ghori, was a warrior from Ghazni, modern-day Afghanistan, who led the foundation of the Muslim empire in India after defeating the Chahmana ruler Prithviraj Chohan in 1192. He died in….’

‘I think long travels, hard weather, and staying away from home for a long period of time were not that relaxing,’ Murtaza replied while solving another problem.

 ‘It is always hard but exciting to become a warrior,’ he continued.

‘Baba knows tomorrow is my exam, but he forgets about everything while watching the news. For the last 15 minutes, we have been stuck with the same news. Also, these formulas are getting on my nerves. Hassan desperately lay on the bed. His eyes were gazing at the dark sky outside the window when he saw a light that came straight from the sky and ended towards his garden. He got up, terrified.

‘What happened?’ Murtaza asked.

‘I just saw a shooting star, I think,’ Hassan replied, confused, and walked close to the window. The garden light was on, and there was nothing noteworthy.

 ‘We should take a break. Bring something to eat,’ Murtaza asked for some snacks. 

‘Any contact with Zaka?’ he asked curiously when Hassan was about to leave the room.

‘Nope… The app is not available at this moment. I already checked,’ Hassan pointed towards his mobile.

Hassan walked to the living room. His mind was still stuck with that red light. His mother and Zeemal aapi were busy on their mobiles. They didn’t even notice him, and he also didn’t dare to disturb them. He moved to the kitchen and looked for some nimko for Murtaza. 

‘Does Ghouri is Shabudin Ghouri…a Muslim warrior from the northwest side who invaded Delhi in 1193… I guess… I’m right… after defeating a dominant ruler, Prithviraj Chohan, and handing over the government to his slave Qutub ud Din Aibek, as he had no son? I think we’ve studied him in our 7th-grade history book,’ Murtaza asked Hassan as soon as he entered the room.

‘You know history was my least favorite subject. I only remember some Mughal emperors’ names: Akbar, Jahangir, Shah Jahan…’

Murtaza’s mobile beep stopped Hassan.

‘Mama, believe me, we are not wasting time. I’ll be back in an hour. Don’t lock the middle gate, please’ Murtaza closed the phone, seeing Hassan entering the room.

 ‘I think I should leave.’ Murtaza took the plate from Hassan’s hand and picked a fistful of nimko.

‘Baba is not back yet from the clinic, and Mama is worried,’ Murtaza continued to his cousin, who was also his next-door neighbor.

 ‘Mama, I am going to Murtaza’s home to study,’ Hassan called her mama, who was busy in the kitchen.

They came to the garden. There was a way between their gardens so the families could easily come to each other’s homes. 

‘I wish there were a range of missiles at my name, i.e., Murtaza I, II, and III, like a great warrior Shahabudin Ghouri,’ Murtaza wished.

 ‘I saw Shahabudin Ghouri’s mausoleum near Jehlum when I went with Baba on his archeological trip in Sohawa,’

‘What you didn’t tell me!’

‘I’m telling it now. Baba told me that he died in an assassination attack in 1206 while coming back from one of his expeditions. You know one interesting thing… There have been many accounts about Ghouri and Prithvi’s deaths in Indian history books. Many stories seem to be fabricated to shun the embarrassment of Prithvi’s defeat and execution. God knows what truth is!’

‘Rumors…false news… Centuries passed, but our neighbors still do this,' Murtaza laughed, remembering some recent events of spreading false news from their rival side.

‘Yes, like Lahore port invade.’ They laughed out loud.

 

'We can search it on Google,’ Murtaza got inquisitive and held his mobile.

‘Prithivi was a great archer. He killed Ghouri blindfolded using the skills. Prithvi died of hunger…. Prithvi was taken to Ghazni and executed… Ghuri gave an archery challenge to Prithvi and got killed…,’ Murtaza read aloud.

‘A lot of anectodes. ‘It’s almost impossible to debunk the myths from history,’ he added.

‘I think it’s possible somewhere, and you guys must be waiting for me somewhere!’ Zaka’s voice breached the silence of the garden from somewhere near their ears, but no one was there.

‘Of course,’ they exclaimed with eagerness. Just then, the mobile’s flashlight turned red and pulled them into some space-time zone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CH 2

 

Training camp

 

‘It was a big field. There were soldiers everywhere. Some were fighting with swords. Some were throwing spears, and many were busy shooting with arrows. Just then, they heard.

The new Turk slaves are here. Train them for the war. They are going to be the great warriors of the Ghouri army.’ A big-headed person pulled them inside a training camp.

Murtaza and Hassan found themselves among the new slaves. Most of the slaves were happy to be the slaves of Sultan Shahabudin Ghouri.

‘Don’t worry… He treated all his slaves like his sons, as he had no heir of his own. They are trained not only as soldiers but also as good administrators. He provides them with education and a good life,’ one of the slaves exclaimed with joy.

‘Shahabudin Ghouri, Turk slaves—we must be in Ghouri’s dynasty of the 12th century,’ Murtaza was trying to figure out.

‘So once again, we have jumped back in time for time travel. I was expecting it when I saw a shooting star in the sky,’ Hassan was excited.

‘Zaka would be here too.’ Murtaza looked around.

Zaka is an astronaut and a scientist from the 24th century. He would be on any new space project; that’s why he needed us to join him in the time travel journey again,’ Murtaza was curious.

‘Whatever… I’m ready for the adventure. It is going to be more exciting than our previous time travel towards the Nile, Egypt, of the 11th century.’ Hassan looked around. They were in a war training camp full of armor, horses, and weapons. It was the 12th century.

 

‘It is 1192 AD, and you are in Ghazni (a city now in Afghanistan), capital of the Ghouri dynasty. You are the soldiers of Shahabudin Ghouri now. Soon, he will be off to fight with the Hindu Raja Prithivi Raj Chohan of Delhi and Ajmer to take his revenge, and you will be with him. Now get ready for the battle.’ Zaka was around them as one of the commanders.

‘Nice to see you again, Mr. Astronaut of the 24th century. The past, present, and future are again working in the same time frame. The vast and verdant pastures of time are slowly revealing the forgotten videos of our history, drawing us into their depths as if we are stepping into a mesmerizing virtual reality game. Each scene unfolds with vibrant clarity, allowing us to experience moments long gone. We are again a part of real images, which are saved in space-time holes. Am I right?’ Murtaza greeted him warmly.

‘Absolutely… You will debunk some myths of your region, and I’ll complete my time holes investigation that will lead me to move more back in the past,’ Zaka smiled back.

‘How can we fight as warriors of Shahabudin Ghouri in the 12th century? We just saw the swords in the museum. We don’t even know how to hold any of the weapons properly. Hassan looked at the other corner of the field, where some men were practicing.

‘I could land you directly in the battleground, but it wouldn’t be fun without training and long rides. Learn and enjoy the training here. I believe you both are going to be the best warriors in no time,’ Zaka replied calmly.

‘Are you scared?’ He looked in Hassan’s eyes.

‘No, not at all. I was on the highest level of Free Fire, PUBG, Roblox… but it’s going to be a real battlefield.  I’m happy that I know the basics of conventional war,' Hassan recalled, online game skills, and missed his controller. 

 

‘And I’m pretty sure that Shahabudin will be impressed by my skills, and I may get any state to rule by Shahabudin in reward, like Qutubudin Aibak (a brave and loyal slave of his),’ Murtaza shook his arm in the air like a skillful warrior and turned to Zaka.

‘…Or a beautiful princess wishes to marry me, seeing my bravery?’ Hassan closed his eyes to enjoy his daydream.

‘Here, of course, many of Ghouri’s slaves ruled on his winning states as a reward, but I can’t promise any proposal from the princess,’ Zaka laughed.

‘And what do you want from us?’ Murtaza was serious now.

‘Don’t worry… You’ll get to know at the end of this expedition.’ Zaka patted his shoulder.

‘But…,’

‘It will not be more than a souvenir from the past: a rock, a weapon, or something else. I had a project to see the changes in the positions and structures of rocks in and above the oceans at this time.  We can improve the displacement of physical objects from one place to another faster. We would no longer need airplanes or ships to cover long distances in our time, after my research. Humans would be ecstatic to travel from one place to another, like the WhatsApp messages of your time. Like always, I had to bring you with me to complete my project,’ Zaka explained to them the purpose of his journey.

'This time of the past is best for your research, as all rocks of Earth are linked and communicating with wandering rocks of space, and you have entered their pasture field. I know you’re about to tell the same story again, like our previous expeditions, Hassan cut him off and continued.

‘Oh, how would you know this!’ A cackle followed Zaka’s amazement.

‘We don’t know how to fight. To become a warrior of great Shahabudin would be tough…,’ Murtaza said anxiously. 

‘My real purpose in bringing you here is to disclose the reality of the celebrated but false story of your time. I want you to experience the truth with your eyes.’ Suddenly, Zaka became so serious.

‘What are you talking about?’ Murtaza asked thoughtfully.

‘You’ll know it soon. It is very usual to forget the mourning of defeats. Many imaginary happy endings of the war continued buzzing among the natives, but the lie remains a lie; it can’t turn the face of the real hero of the battlefield. ‘Same is the case over here.’ Zaka looked at the sky.

'I have to continue my research about the communication system of rocks from Earth to space asteroids. I’ll be around you. Beat the enemy with your teeth now.’ He disappeared in the crowd of soldiers.

‘I will fight at my best; that king will honor my skills,’ Hassan hoped again and moved to the training field.

‘Wait! ‘A daydreamer of the 21st century,’ Murtaza replied.

 ‘First learn to hold a heavy sword and to ride a horse, then dream of a princess.’ He gave him a heavy sword on one side.

‘It’s too heavy, but I think I can master it.’ Hassan waved the sword in the air and targeted Murtaza.

‘Ok, here it is,’ Murtaza took another one.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CH 3

 

  A tough training

 

It was very tough training. They had to work very hard to learn war skills. They had to attend and practice different lessons throughout the day. They learnt swordsmanship. They practiced riding and archery skills.

Murtaza’s sword fighting was commendable. Hassan soon became one of the most trained and expert archers in the army. They hardly got any time to relax. Soon, the day arrived when they had to leave Ghazni.

On that day, they saw Shahabudin Ghouri. He was a tall man with a muscular body. He had a charismatic personality. He had a small beard. His eyes were so ambitious. He addressed his soldiers.

‘My brave soldiers, we have already conquered Multan, Gujarat, Sialkot, and Lahore. I couldn’t do it without the will of Allah and with your loyal and courageous companionship. Now you are my heirs, to rule my winning states. You’re my heirs, who’ll lead my name till the sun shines on this land. The rule of the Almighty Allah will thrive here from now on. Get ready for another victory.' He gave the victorious speech to his army and set off for Delhi.

 

Murtaza and Hassan were also given the commands of two army wings. Soon, the month of Ramadan started. The army camped near Swat. It was a magnificent experience fasting in camps. Every soldier was busy reciting the Quran and nafls. All the soldiers gathered on the big ground for aftar and sahar. Soon, all of them saw the Eid moon in the sky and thanked Allah for his gracefulness.

After the Eid prayers, gifts were distributed from the sultan to all soldiers. There was feasting in the tents, but all the soldiers were missing their families. They were reading or writing letters to their families to greet them with Eid wishes.

‘You know we are passing from a KPK province of our time. Shahabudin was also a loyal and brave pukhtun; that’s why we honor him, and a wide range of missiles is named after him,’ Murtaza told Hassan when they were set free from the grand Eid lunch from Shahabudin.

 

‘What do you think? How much time would pass in our time?’ Hassan asked Murtaza after the Eid grand dinner.

‘It would be almost 30 minutes, as we’ve been here for 30 days. Time is slow in our period,’ Murtaza looked at Hassan.

‘There is still a long way to travel to Delhi. If there were a Thunder JF-17 nowadays, we would be at Qutub Minar in minutes as fighter pilots.’ Hassan looked tired.

‘Mr. fighter pilot in dreams, this is the 12th century; there is not no Qutub Minar yet. Go to sleep, or you will again fall from your horse’ Murtaza reminded him of how he fell from the horse when he slept on its back. 

 

‘I didn’t sleep; I just slipped because of heavy armor. ‘I told you before,’ Hassan said angrily and pretended to sleep. Murtaza smiled and closed his eyes when someone entered their tent. He jolted him badly….

‘Get up, the commander is calling you,’ a soldier thumbed them up from their hay beds.

 

He was a tall man with a strong, muscular build. With his confident and resolute, piercing gaze, he looked at both of them as soon as they entered his wide tent. His eyes reflected both courage and a readiness to face any challenge in the torchlight. They were both stunned after seeing his personality when Qutub ud Din Aibek spoke up:

‘With the will of Allah, our troops will leave by early morning. You both will stay behind and look for anything left by the soldiers. You can join the Ghouri troops again till the next stay,’ he commanded them. 

 

'Ok,' they could have just nodded their heads. 

 

Before the dawn shows the face on the horizon, the whole convoy left their stay near Swat Valley to face Hindu Raja Prithvi's forces in Delhi.

 

‘So dear you, me, and a very own charming tone all around, I am falling in love with you,’ Hassan patted his horse and adjusted the saddle of its partner.

‘I hope he is feeling the same,’ Murtaza set himself on the horse back.

‘Don’t worry, buddy, there are always villains in any love story,’ Hassan said to his horse and jumped on it.

‘Really, this area is so stunning to travel on horses,’ Murtaza also looked around the vast, green, mountainous meadow. They found some clothes and tools between tightly fixed rocks. They gathered the leftovers, a box of stored food, and tools and set off.

‘We should race, hurry.’

‘Don’t worry; we’ll catch our brave Ghouri troops soon,’ Murtaza turned up his horse on a paved, narrow mud road, which was circled with green fields and trees on both sides.

‘Last year, while visiting Swat Valley in our car from Lahore, I couldn’t imagine that I was going to explore this road on horses 1000 years ago. ‘I’m just amazed how Zaka managed to travel in time and also bring us with him,’ Hassan replied.

‘The mysteries of nature will continue to be unveiled with time. All images of inhabitants of this universe, their audio, and their videos are saved in the space shelves. Zaka is a scientist from the 24th century, and they have discovered the saved images and videos of past civilizations. They’re just trying to become a part of those videos, as Zaka told us. To continue his research, he needed to have the companions from the present time, that is, our time, the 21st century. We’re lucky to be chosen by him’ Murtaza looked at the heavy clouds covering the shadows in the dark all around.

 

‘I know, but he is busy with his research about the communicating magnetic posture of asteroids and evolving rocks on Earth. He left us alone to meet the challenges.’

 

Hassan seemed annoyed while handling his furious horse.

‘Can some time tool convert this horse into a Honda 125 for me? He exclaimed angrily.

‘Do you really think that all rocks in the universe make links of communication from past to future, and we can travel in time without any time machine?' Murtaza totally ignored him.

'Of course, the humans from the future can move through space-time holes to visit the saved videos of humans from the past, just like Zaka. If we can make and save visuals of every moment of one's life nowadays, then why couldn't nature do this from the start of the world? The mysteries of nature are … Hassan stopped feeling the little shower from the sky.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CH 4

 

 

 Got robbed

 

‘It seemed a thunderstorm was on its way.’ Murtaza looked at the sky when Hassan fell badly in trying to control his horse, who started to neigh at the fuming thunder.

‘Are you OK?’ Murtaza jumped down.

‘You dumb… I’ll see you. ‘I’m… I am always unfortunate in love.’ Hassan checked his back. The horse neighed angrily in reply.

 

‘It’s ok… He is a good guy. I hope you’ll be friends soon. Murtaza calmed down the horse.

‘Unfortunate in love! You’re just an early teen in grade 8. Hold your heart and try to look for any shelter.’ Murtaza tried to look around. The heavy raindrops accompanying the thunder and lightning cast darkness in the daylight.

Green woods or crops of wheat and corn on both sides of the road were fluttering fast with the rolling wind. Darkness was dancing in the territory of the sun. A bombing of Hail took them under the big tree, crossing the maze fields on the mountains.

‘I’m feeling like a leaking tap now,’ Hassan wrung his dress and cap.

‘We’re trapped in the middle of the storm. There is no home till far. Murtaza tried to look around, crossing heavy drops, but all in vain.

‘Are you travelers? All of a sudden, a soft voice from nowhere crossed their ears.

‘Yes, we are. We need some place to stay.’

‘You may stay at my house. ‘I will be happy to help you.’ That man was wrapped in a big shawl from top to toe.

‘He is looking so suspicious,’ Murtaza said, looking at Hassan. 

‘We are so wet and tired that we have no choice.’ Hassan looked at the sky and followed that man. His hut was at some distance from the road.

‘Dry yourself and take some eatables. I’ll look for your horses,’ he made the fire inside the room and presented some of them with barley bread.

‘Thank you, but we’ll leave as soon as the rain stops,’ Murtaza said, sitting near the fire.

‘Umm… It’s hard but tasty,’ Hassan took a bite of bread.

It was the effect of tiredness, the warm room, or the piece of bread; they couldn’t realize how much time they slept. Hassan woke up first and came outside. The rain had stopped. There was a muddy field on all sides. The king of the day again captured his territory to shine.

‘Where are our horses?’ Hassan’s sixth sense alarmed him, and he screamed at once.

‘Murtaza, come out; we have been robbed.’

That man had taken their horses and all their money.

‘I warned you, but you always do your will. Now tell me how we will meet the troops again, and what about the belongings of soldiers?’

‘We can be punished for this.’ Murtaza was worried.

‘Thanks to that robber who left this stored food for us,’ Hassan was getting mad.

‘Stop yelling at me; we had no choice at that time. Let me think for a while.’ Murtaza took a round and looked aside.

‘Let’s start again on foot.’ Murtaza set off on one side to look for the road.

‘What! On foot! You mean we’re going to walk approximately 700 miles around the Punjab?’ Hassan held his head.

‘We again have no choice, like before. It’s normal in this period of time. I hope we’ll join the troops soon and can ask for an apology.’ Murtaza set off.

‘For sure, an elite slave commander of Ghouri Qutub ud Din will ask your choice between an apology and a punishment,’ Hassan mocked.

There was no choice but to go on foot now. They were lucky to explore the traditional route of warriors from the west to invade the plains of India. Get near Gujarat, passing by Taxila and Jehlum city after taking lifts from the traders, who were coming from Afghanistan. There was no proper road, but narrow, bricked paths circled with green fields and shadowy trees.

'Yummy, the guavas of the 12th century are tastier than those of our times.' They stopped at a roadside.

'Taste and hunger are directly proportional to each other,' Murtaza said, looking at Hassan.

‘I don’t get how much expansion in their empire these sultans want. Look, Ghouri has already extended his dynasty from Ghurid to Mutan and Uch within a year. He has uprooted the Ghaznavids from the upper Punjab, but he’s not stopping.’ Just then, they overheard a man sitting by a water channel with some of his mates.

‘He has come back for the same war. I just wish that humans learn to live in peace and we see any betterment in our lives,’ the other man begged with folded hands and looked at the sky.

Across the landscape, numerous stupas, temples, and shrines dedicated to Buddha stand as eloquent expressions of devotion and spirituality, each telling its unique story through intricate designs and sacred traditions. The majority of the people in the area were Hindus and Sikhs. Many men and women were practicing their rituals in the small towns nearby. Their quality of life did not seem very high. The class system was evident everywhere. There were also some mosques in the region, as Islam was evolving following the conquests of Mahmud Ghaznavi and Shahab al-Din Ghouri. People were greatly inspired by the divine teachings of Islam, which made it easier for them to follow the right path, especially since there were visible signs that an army had recently passed through. Everywhere, people were discussing Shahab al-Din's previous and ongoing expedition to Delhi. "I have heard that Shahab al-Din is coming with a larger army this time. His forces include the best archers and highly trained horsemen," one of the local men gossiping at a small roadside café said to the other. "What if he has to retreat again like last year? It’s impossible to stand against Prithvi’s precise archery tactics," the other man replied.

 

‘I think you’re unaware of the challenge taker commander, Shahabudin Ghouri. A soldier loves to fight again and again to prove his will. He has the reasons for his expeditions here. Many people around are blessed with the divine teachings of a great religion, Islam, just because of Muslim invaders coming from the western borders.’ One man with a small beard participated in the discussion when the owner of the cafe looked at them.

‘Are you travelers? Can I serve you?’ he asked.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CH 5

 

A swamber

 

‘Just a glass of water.’ Murtaza felt thirsty.

‘No matter how big his army is? ' Prithvi’s elephant force will smash the Ghouri troops,’ another man was sure about the strength of Prithvi.

‘Don’t exaggerate; his archery skills and clumsy elephants are more rumored than real. Time will show it. The cafe owner also participated in the discussion.

They introduced themselves as traders everywhere. They were about to leave the cafe when a young, tanned-colored, smart boy called them from the back.

‘I can’t see your luggage, Mr. Traders.’ He looked in their eyes….

‘Umm… actually…,’

‘Let me guess, you have been robbed and have lost your way,’ the boy seemed talkative but was absolutely right at that moment.

‘Kumar Sharma. I can guide you on your way, but you’ll have to take me to a city near Lahore,’ he offered.

‘What type of services?’ Murtaza got suspicious.

‘Near Lahore! I’m too excited to see what our school and our house looked like 1000 years ago. I’m ready,’ Hassan held Sharma’s hand.

‘You goof; our house and our school didn’t exist even 100 years ago, and it’s the 12th century: almost 1200 years ago. There would be green fields all around now, and he said, ‘Near Lahore, not around it.’ Murtaza took him to one side.

‘An annual funfair is being organized there. Enormous competitions of wrestling, archery, and races will be held there. Prize money will be given to the winners. I’m up to sell my ponies and donkeys over there. You have to take care of my cattle. You may also take part in different competitions and can manage to reach your friends with the winning money,’ Kumar pointed towards his flock of donkeys at one corner.

‘I think we can do it. What do you say, Hassan? You have an excellent experience of riding… Murtaza turned to Hassan.

‘Luckily, we have no choice again.’ Hassan clinched a deal, avoiding any further argument.

‘I’ll also bear out my luck again in Swamber this year.’ Kumar was definitely a chatty partner.

‘A swamber! They looked at each other.

‘Umm…, Rajah's daughter will pick a life partner from the participants, who’ll establish their talent to win her. A lucky man can win a princess and a rajah's state. My success will change my fortune forever’ Kumar closed his eyes to imagine his dream.

‘We wish you luck,’ Murtaza smiled.

‘Ha ha... I knew that after knowing about Swamber, you’d definitely dream of it. Everyone wants to try their luck for the princess....

‘No, not at all, we will go only for prize money at different games.’ 

They both blushed and were embarrassed at his sudden guess. 

An exciting array of games took place across the expansive field, drawing cheers and laughter from participants and spectators alike. Among the competitors, Hassan truly stood out, showcasing his exceptional skills and strength to emerge as a wrestling champion. His thin but muscular body beat many professional wrestlers. He also won many races.

‘It was easy even with the inorganic food of our times.’ Hassan wiped his sweat.

‘Though our gym and club training is helping here, you were inspirational. Now it’s my turn…’ Murtaza patted him.

Murtaza showed his excellence in archery. He met the different targets very precisely. As Murtaza stood poised, blindfolded, a hush fell over the crowd, their breaths caught in anticipation. He tuned into the world around him, letting the sounds envelop him like a comforting embrace. Suddenly, he felt the fluttering of wings—a subtle whisper in the cacophony of noise. With a swift yet calculated motion, he drew his bowstring taut, heart racing with excitement. With a perfect blend of instinct and focus, he released the arrow, the snap echoing like thunder in the stillness. With blinding accuracy, the arrow flew true, cutting through the air and striking its target. The cheers erupted around him, a wave of exhilaration fueled by his newfound connection to the environment. Murtaza couldn't help but smile beneath the blindfold, feeling like a champion not just for hitting the birds, but for mastering a skill that transcended mere sight. The thrill of the challenge made every heartbeat feel alive, igniting a fire within him that promised more victories to come.

They participated in and won almost all competitions. Brain games proved peanuts for them. They won a lot of money.

'Oh, Kumar, where were you? We are here to buy two of your ponies. Hassan waved to him from far away.

‘Bravo! I’m impressed by your skills. Thank you; you’re not my competitor; otherwise, it would seem difficult to beat you in Swamber. Wish me luck; I have shown my best among Swamber participants. Soon I’m about to jazz with my princess.’ Kumar took the money and handed over two ponies to them while dancing around.

‘He is so overconfident. I’m afraid of his reaction if…,’ Murtaza didn’t complete it.

‘I don’t want to see him heartbroken too. He is a good man.’ Hassan looked at him, who was almost rushing towards the end of the big ground.

‘Let’s go; we have to join Shahbudin’s forces as soon as possible. Every single soldier is important in any big expedition.’ Murtaza turned his horse towards the road.

‘What about their belongings, which we have lost?’ Hassan felt guilty.

‘They’ll understand us. Look, the road is blocked. A lot of people have gathered here.’ Murtaza stopped his pony half a mile away from the funfair.

There was a beautiful big house, ‘Haveli,’ at one end of the road, which was overcrowded with men of different ages at that time. The vibrant sounds of drums and trumpets filled the air, echoing the joyous celebration of a wedding ceremony taking place nearby.

‘We should see if there's a shortcut through the fields,’ Hassan was about to move his pony when they both got amused at an announcement from the Haveli….

‘Soon the princesses will garland her gentleman; all participants gather in the raja’s palace.’

‘Don’t you think we should wave for Kumar? The road is blocked. We’ll have to wait anyway.’ Hassan looked at one corner.

‘No choice again, let’s go,’

‘Thank God, you agreed on something without a spat. In fact, you are also curious to meet the princess.’ It was Hassan’s turn now to mock him.

‘Shut up,

‘I wish Kumar meets with success. He has been a nice guy.’ Murtaza looked among the participants.

‘Look at that furious-looking Rajah; he would be a cruel father-in-law for sure,’ Hassan pointed towards the throne, which was placed in the middle of the big yard of the palace. There were participants of swamber on one side. They stood on the other side with other people.

‘Where is the princess? It’s too late. We shouldn’t stop,’ Murtaza got irritated.

The wait was ended; contrary to their expectations, a tan-colored, healthy young girl in a sari came outside with a flower necklace in her hand. She wore heavy gold jewelry. She smiled at all participants.

‘I would give her 40/100 for beauty, 50/100 for appearance, 100/100 for …,’ Hassan didn’t like her.

‘Don’t announce your result card here. Many people are dying to marry her.’

‘That’s what… I was about to give her 100/100 for being a daughter of a king otherwise… 50 is a passing mark in core subjects.’

‘I’m thinking of Kumar, who fought for her. If he saw her first, he definitely changed his mind.’ Murtaza waved to Kumar on the other side and was amazed by his excitement.

The princess approached the participants, and the noise and excitement reached a fever pitch. As she moved forward, many men pleaded for her attention. The line of participants came to an end, but no one was chosen. Everyone held their breath in anticipation. The necklace sparkled beautifully in the strong, gusty winds.

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CH 6

 

Joining the Army

 

‘The furious-looking Rajah also got up and looked at his daughter in amazement. The princess didn’t seem to care for anyone. She turned back and came to the other end of the ground. There was a crowd of audience members who gathered to wave to their mates. The audience left a way for her. She reached behind and put that flower necklace on Hassan’s neck.

‘I saw you participating in different competitions. You won wrestling and the long race. I choose you, my partner, for the rest of my life. ‘You’re a brave man,’ she said, too shy to be near him.

Many people get stunned at first, but cherish it after a while. Hassan’s nerves got shot.

He was about to say anything when Rajah called for celebrations everywhere. He called Hassan to the stage.

‘You are very lucky that my princess has chosen you. Now you are going to be part of the royal family,’ he offered him some sweets.

‘I can’t marry your daughter. I was not among the participants. It is not fair. I have to go.’ Hassan gathered his potency and said loudly.

A silence crept among the participants. The Rajah got furious.

‘How dare you refuse my daughter? Seize this boy and his companion in prison and hang them in the morning if he doesn’t accept the decision,’ he ordered at once.

‘Why am I being punished with you?’ Murtaza tried to look outside the prison.

‘There is no chance of our escape; you could help me if you were free.’ Hassan sat in one corner.

‘It is better to die rather than to marry that ugly princess, what do you think? He asked Murtaza.

Murtaza didn’t answer; he was continuously looking outside from the small window. Suddenly, a beam of light came down and broke the walls of the prison.

‘I’m so sorry. I totally forgot about you. You know, I have found a series of waves between the rocks of the Himalayas and asteroids in space. Himalayan rocks are falling into space as meteoroids and creating a path for physical displacement of humans,’ he said, excited.

Asteroid from the Himalayas into space

‘Your discovery would benefit you in your 24th century, but what if we were displaced in the 12th century at the hands of that furious rajah and his daughter? Your future, our present, and this past—all would be lost in your space-time holes.’ Hassan was still trembling with anger.

‘Don’t forget, you wished for a princess at the start of this journey. You should thank me; instead, you… Anyhow, I will drop you near your cavalry. Shahabudin is ready to ruin Prithvi’s might,’ Zaka smiled and gave them their robbed luggage.

That night, they reached near Tarain, and then they joined their army back at the Battle of Tarain near Delhi.

‘We’ll attack in the early morning. We’ll fight only to win…. Shabun ud Din was addressing his army.

The truth was just days away now, to unveil the queries about why most celebrated at their neighbors about Prithvi's death. The battleground was ready. It was PrithviRaj Chauhan's blindfold archery skill or Shabadin Ghouri's sharp sword cuts that would work; the time was here.

Hassan and Murtaza joined Ghouri's army back at the Battle of Tarain near Delhi. A number of 120,000 armored soldiers were sharpening their teeth on the Ghouri side. On that night, the brave slave commander of Ghouri, Qutub ud Din Aibak, opened the map to discuss the war plan.

‘We are again here after a year against the same war field of Tarain and the same enemy, but the result will be in our favor this time. Like any great invaders, we have learned from our mistakes. Shahbu ud Din stopped and looked at Qutub Ud Din.

‘So as per the plan. We’ll avoid melee combat directly, and our mounds of archers will circle them one after one.’ Aibek pointed to the positions on the map and rolled the map after a detailed briefing. Hassan and Murtaza were taking the notes carefully.

The next morning, they came to the battleground to assess the strength of the enemy’s flanks.

‘I haven’t seen this large number of war elephants in my life,’ Murtaza was amazed to see the trained and equipped war elephant taking 7-8 warriors on their back, ready to fight.

‘In fact, we haven’t seen any of the elephants except the one waving at us in the zoo,’ Hassan replied.

‘And that’s also died last year. There’s just a fake one, and here are almost 3000 elephants joining a cavalry of 300,000 soldiers from Prithivi. For sure, we shouldn’t underestimate the big preparation here. May Prithvi is getting aid from his ally states’

‘Wars always have been a game of determination and planning; numbers of armor don’t matter most of the time.’

‘You’re right, but India was divided into many small states ruled by autonomous rulers. Sometimes they came together against the foreign invader, but mostly they remained at odds. This had made the lands of India an easy choice for foreign invaders to increase their power and treasures’

‘Also, this region seems far from the evolving modern civilization of this time. People are poor and have fewer opportunities to grow.’

‘Prithivi was the last independent Hindu king of the area, and his defeat opened the gates of Islam in northern India, following the great Muslim dynasties. At last, this area experienced the great blended architecture, literacy, tasty cuisine, and splendid traditions from all over the world.’ While discussing the situation, they joined their army.

‘This time traveling will definitely affect you positively, and you’ll get more than just passing grades in history,’ Murtaza chortled.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CH 7

 

Execution of Prithivi

 

‘The night went dark and quiet when the brave soldiers were ready to attack the territories of Delhi and Ajmer. Murtaza and Hassan wore their armor and took their positions. Shahabudin Ghouri grouped them into five units. The Murtaza's unit attacked first.

Murtaza’s unit launched flank and rear attacks against the enemy. At first, Prithvi’s forces responded with great resistance. The elephants trumpeted loudly while archers released thousands of arrows. Although the horses were frightened by the sight of the giant creatures, they regained their composure when they saw the resolve of their riders. Murtaza killed two elephants by driving spears into their necks. Shahbudin’s best archers skillfully targeted the elephants' feet, raining arrows down like hail. However, Ghouri’s flank attack struggled to break through the disciplined enemy lines.

 

The Prithvi forces appeared relaxed as the Ghouri troops fled, just as the Ghouris had anticipated. Now, Hassan's unit advanced to execute a flanking attack as per the plan. They infiltrated the Prithvi lines, cutting through the dense growth of their elephant jungle. Murtaza regained his energy and showcased his exceptional archery skills, hitting hundreds of enemy soldiers. During the chaos, Hassan sustained a serious injury to his arm and was about to collapse onto the ruined grassland when Murtaza caught him. Together, they fought while riding the same horse. "It's just like we're riding a heavy bike in battle! I just had a great idea—we should use heavy bikes for wars instead of tanks and jeeps!" Hassan exclaimed, his sword poised dangerously close to an enemy's neck.

 

Murtaza was throwing spears at clumsy elephants. The elephants couldn’t maintain their balance, and there was a debacle in the field. Elephants were ruining their own chivalry. Shahbudin’s cavalry circled Prithvi’s forces from all sides.

‘See, I told you… There’s nothing like face-to-face combat,’ Murtza shouted.

‘Get him; he is running,’ Hassan screamed, looking at the fleeing Prithivi, who abandoned his elephant for a horse.

Murtaza took charge of the horse again, chased fast, and imprisoned the escaping enemy chief. The war was over. Muslims won, and the enemy had to face a great loss.

 ‘I have heard much about your best archery skills that you can hit the target precisely even blindfolded, but I’m disappointed. You were not even able to show it with open eyes. I wish I could get any glimpses of your skill in the field’ Shahabudin looked at the imprisoned Prithvi.

‘You can still see it, my lord; stitch his eyes and give him his bow. He’ll target his prey so precisely,’ Prithvi’s royal lady Chandra Gupta tried to incite the Shahabudin to give him another chance. Shahabudin thought for a while.

‘The idea seems smart and appealing, but I’m not desperate to see the skills of a defeated king. I would love to hear something from you. I have heard about the royal lady's poetic strategies that are admirable and hint at her man hitting precisely when blindfolded...quite interesting,’ Shahabudin grinned.

Chandragupta, with a heart steeped in pride yet burdened by defeat, whispered a few evocative verses to honor her vanquished husband, weaving her voice into the tapestry of history.

 ‘You think you can fool your people with clever wordplay and riddles, masking your true intentions? Not with us,’ Qutub ud-Din challenged, his eyes gleaming with defiance as he confronted the uncertainty of their fate.

‘I must march onward to Ajmer with my forces, and you...,’ Shahabudin paused to weigh his words ... ‘shall be dispatched to Ghazni to face Sultan Ghiyasuddin Ghouri. His verdict will seal your destiny.’

 Hassan was entrusted with the daunting task of bringing Prithvi back to Ghazni, a mission heavy with implications.

 ‘You were phenomenal, my loyal warrior," Ghouri praised, his voice rich with appreciation.

‘Your unmatched skills in battle deserve recognition.’ With a flourish, he removed a brilliant diamond from his finger and presented it to Murtaza.

 ‘Your generosity honors me, my lord,’ Murtaza responded, accepting the glittering ring with a deep bow, his heart swelling with pride.

 ‘I wish for you to govern my next victorious realm and establish a new slave dynasty,’ Ghouri declared turning to Hassan, his ambition roaring like the fires of celebration around them. ‘But my true desire is to fight alongside you as a warrior,’ Hassan interjected earnestly.

‘I seek no territory as a reward; my loyalty lies in battle, not crowns.’ He bowed deeply, understanding that his valor was far more precious than any title. Meanwhile, the administration of the newly conquered Delhi fell into the capable hands of another brave commander, Qutub ud-Din Aibak, who stood ready to steer the marred waters of governance. As the sun set on that fateful day, Hassan joined his fellow warriors, steeling himself for the journey to Ghazni. Each step forward was a march towards uncertainty, but in his heart burned the fire of a true soldier, perpetual and unwavering.

 

In 1193, Prithvi was presented to Sultan Ghiyasuddin Ghouri in Ghazni, where the Sultan ordered his execution. Prithvi's remains are still buried in the barren grounds of Ghazni, Afghanistan. At the same time, Shahbudin Ghouri was conquering the lands when Hassan returned to join Murtaza and the Ghouri forces after Prithvi’s execution.

The people of Delhi were stunned, hurt, and depressed by the defeat of Prithvi Raj Chohan. Mourning and sadness spread far and wide, as they found it hard to believe that their brave ruler could be executed so easily. Discontent grew among the locals, and storytellers of the area began creating anecdotes about Prithvi’s death to help ease their unrest. While Shahabudin fought on distant battlefields, the storytellers of Delhi narrated these fables.

One narrator claimed, ‘Prithvi killed Shahabudin in his court with his stitched eyes when he was asked to demonstrate his skills.’

One account tells that Prithvi's lady, Chandra, convinced Ghouri to witness an archery demonstration by the blind king. She assisted Prithvi in pinpointing the exact location of Shahbudin Ghouri through her poetry. The courtiers couldn’t understand the language, and an arrow struck its target, killing Ghouri while he sat high in his court. The moment Ghouri gave the order to shoot, Prithviraj tracked the sound and fired a single, lethal arrow into Ghouri's throat. These tales were repeated so often that they started to be believed as the truth.

In the camp, Murtaza greeted Hassan, saying, ‘Pleased to see you. I was feeling so alone.’ Hassan replied, ‘I’ve heard many rumors about the end of Prithvi, but I witnessed his demise in Ghazni myself. Meanwhile, Muhammad Ghouri is alive and fighting right in front of me.’

 

‘This is why Zaka brought us here, to unveil the truth. Prithivi was strangled in 1193 in Ghazni, and Shahabudin was assassinated in 1206 in Jehlum, Pakistan, during one of his other expeditions in the Indus plains. It was a neglected tomb until Dr. Abdul Qadeer Khan, the hero of Pakistan’s atomic program, funded the construction of a mausoleum over Ghouri’s grave.’ Hassan shared this information, recalling what his father had told him during their visit there.

‘Fake news serves as a psychological weapon, where falsehoods are intentionally used to manipulate narratives, demoralize opponents, and influence global opinion. However, the truth ultimately comes to light. Unfortunately, our enemy's propaganda is often so absurd that it turns into a running joke. Instead of being an effective persuasive tool, it becomes a significant liability for them.’ Murtaza grinned.

‘All images of past times are saved in space holes, and all myths will die with time when people watch them in the future. It's time to go back now. Oh, I mean, go forward,’ Zaka said, his voice filled with a sense of purpose as he prepared to guide them.

 ‘What about your project?’ Murtaza asked, a mix of curiosity and concern in his tone. ‘It’s almost done. This one precious rock from this time pasture will cradle me to move two more centuries back,’ Zaka replied, his gaze locking onto Murtaza.

‘Precious rock?’ Murtaza questioned.

 ‘To complete my project, I need that diamond ring, if you don’t mind,’ Zaka said, pointing toward Murtaza’s hands.

 ‘Why not… It’s yours, after all,’ Murtaza said, removing the ring and handing it to Zaka. Zaka accepted the ring, carefully prying the diamond from it. He set the ring aside, lifting his hands to the sky as if placing the rock into an unseen void. In that moment, everything went blank.

‘Our two-month-long time travel journey took only two hours of our time,’ Hassan said, glancing at his mobile as they landed back in their garden.

‘Nine missed calls.’ Murtaza frowned as he examined his phone.

 ‘Mom is going to kill me! We’ll tell, we went for a long walk and lost track of time. Hurry up!’ Murtaza rushed towards the garden side.

 ‘It’s getting darker, and it’s late. I guess I should head home. But honestly, I told you its way more fun to be a warrior in the past than to solve algebra!’ Hassan waved goodbye, laughter in his voice as he made his way down the path. With a shared grin, the two friends embarked on their separate journeys home, the thrill of adventure lingering in the air. Each step reminded them that while they had returned to the present, the echoes of their experience in the past would stay with them, igniting their imaginations and urging them to seek out more adventures in the future.

 

THE END