Kurt and Turk

Date = Fifteen thousand years BC.                                           Place = Somewhere in central Asia.

Brushing aside the worn out heavy skin curtain hanging at the opening of his khem Buzorg stepped outside.  Sharp cold air caressed his powerful body. He felt strong, invincible and could sense newness in the atmosphere.  He took a deep breath and looked at the sky.  It was still dark but night was slowly fading away.  He heard the shrill short shriek of the great golden eagle and looked up surprised.  He had never seen a great golden up and flying so early.   He tried to locate it in the darkness, and saw it circling high above. The eagle seemed to sense his interest; it stopped and hovered in midair for a prolonged moment, then shrieked again and dived directly towards him through the dark sky.  Buzorg thought for an instant that the eagle was attacking him.  But he just stood there amazed and spell bound. The eagle flew down directly at him, it came at him through dark morning flying low and straight, and came so near that Buzorg could see the shine of its wild, proud eyes.  He felt blood rush through his body with excitement; he had never experienced this kind of action in his life. The eagle stopped in mid air and seemed to stare at him, their eyes met and the eagle shrieked again, turned sharply and flew back above in the sky.

 Though Buzorg was always an early riser, today he was up and out much earlier.  Last night he could not sleep soundly as one of his women was going through the birthing pain, she had been continuously   moaning and disturbing him. It has been such a long time since a child was born in the ghol and Buzorg was looking forward to the new arrival, more so as he, himself had fathered the child.  He rubbed his large rough hands together and moved towards the centre of the ghol.

The two camp dogs came running towards him full of glee. They were fierce and powerful; they rubbed their taut muscular bodies against his legs.  Buzorg bent down and patted them.  He was proud of his own decision of keeping and raising them while most of his people wanted them to be killed.  Many moons back a pack of wild dogs had attacked and killed one of his daughters, his favorite, when she wandered alone in the jungle.  Buzorg and his two young sons had hunted down each and every dog until only these two puppies were left.  Instead of killing away the puppies both his sons had insisted on keeping and raising them.  It was one of the rare occasions when his ever warring sons agreed upon something, that too happily.  Now these dogs were a great help around the camp and hunt.