Three Grains in the Wind
Island School, Ronaq Mathur, Fiction: Group 4
S
wish, swash, dip. Swish, swash, dip. Swish, swash, dip. An endless cycle repeated over
and over again. The Man was silent, his face revealing nothing, his hands moving fluidly.
Swish, swash, dip. His eyes burned with intensity, yet he did not once glance down at the
crumbling paper. All he saw was the sand. The miniscule granules that twisted through
the sky, peppering and clinging to the skin of trekkers that would daringly venture through the
desert. The way the wind would bend the sand into curls, spirals and even circles. The brush
leeched the muddy texture that lay in the lopsided pot. His hands moved like gazelles, swiftly
guiding the brush as it caressed the paper. A gust flowed through; cradling the sand into the
air. The Man’s eyes flickered back and forth along the infinite expanse of desert, just as three
silhouettes blended into existence.
The Man smiled.
“God! Does this mean a storm is coming,” the girl asked, wary of the sudden gale that had
spun the already shaky ground beneath them. Ria was not one who enjoyed copious amounts of
sand. When Alex had told her about the lost gold mines of the Gobi, she hadn’t imagined that
it would take this long to find them. While she thought that the bronze sand around her was
extraordinary, it seemed to have a mind of its own. There were no twigs, no plants and no people.
The sand was like a virus, slowly consuming everything it touched. She shuddered as a large
granule settled on her tanned nose.
“Maybe.” The spindly man next to her said snidely. Ria wished that Alex had hired a different
guide. Sükh was just too strange. From his peaky colour to his abnormally wild, mossy coloured
hair that looked like an animal was sitting on his head.
The sand parted allowing Alex to become visible for a split second before it closed in on them
again. “Ria!” Alex shouted, his voice bouncing of each tiny grain of sand. “I can see someone
ahead!” He cried. Ria could not believe her ears. She had hoped to meet the mysterious nomads
but it had seemed the sand had swept them away as well. Alex believed that the nomads, who had
spent their entire life on the desert, would know where the mines were.
Swish, swash, dip.
The trio stumbled through the churning sand, trying not to get swallowed by the hungry
vortex. The crudely carved-out cavern looked like a sanctuary after being exposed to the
elements for days. The Man looked at them and they stopped, breathing heavily. He continued
with his sinuous strokes. His eyes, pale and bottomless carefully touched on each of the three, as
though committing them to memory. Swish, swash, dip.
“It’s amazing!” Alex whispered half to himself, “we haven’t encountered any nomads
before, maybe he knows where they are?” he asked Sükh. Sükh seemed to still be processing the
confusing sight before him. In all his excursions into the Gobi, he had encountered numerous
Nomads but had never seen this single-minded, painting man. “I’m not sure if he will understand
me, but I will try.” As Sükh moved in slowly, hoping not to alarm the man, and began to speak in
his native tongue. Alex and Ria watched, mesmerised by the way the language meandered its way
through the large cavern like a slithering serpent.
Ria shifted the enormous bag pack that rested on her shoulders as she investigated the
