Bohra

Mukhtar finds Sharif, the orphan who lives with his grandmother. He himself roams the deserts and plains with Salman, a cat man chosen by the grandmother to accompany her grandson on his quest for the dazzling flower. The grandfather left a will asking who would choose to venture into the plains of the Indian flower and its surroundings to seek its magic. Perhaps, after his exciting journey, he will find more than just that flower. You, unknown stranger, you who stand beyond the boundaries of night, do you hear me?
Do you hear me?
Have you, like me, experienced those strange moments of transcendence, where you are alone, your canopy a star-studded expanse, your refuge the tranquility of the night, your paths intertwining like a spider's web in the heart of the wilderness? Yet, you walk in silence and awe, calculating. Words are counted a thousand times over, even your breaths are counted. There, beyond the confines of the night, sharp-sounding ears listen to you, choosing the particles of your whispers and the vibrations of your movements. And yet, you forget yourself, your time and place, knowing you are bound by a magical thread—the thread of anticipation and hope, the thread that ties you to the rope of salvation. Mukhtar, the orphaned boy who lives with his grandmother, finds himself wandering the fields and plains with Salman, a man from the village whom his grandmother chose to accompany her grandson on a journey to find the radiant flower. The grandmother left a will asking Mukhtar to traverse the plains and mountains of his homeland in search of the flower of magic and happiness. Perhaps, after his captivating journey, he will find more than just that flower. You, the unknown stranger. You, standing beyond the boundaries of night, do you hear me? I ask you: Have you walked at night in desolate fields, among rocks and trees, on land untouched by human feet? Have you lived through moments of strange anxiety, alone, your umbrella adorned with stars, your cloak the stillness of night, your paths tangled like spiderwebs in the heart of the wilderness... And yet, you continue walking in silence and reverence, scrutinizing every word, even counting your breaths, as if behind the cloak of night there is a listening ear, hearing your whispers and the vibrations of your movements... And yet, you forget yourself, your time, and your place, because you are bound by a magic thread, the thread of anticipation and hope. The thread that connects you to the rope of salvation.