The haunting melodies of hidden history hummed quietly their songs one night... Rousing drum-beats accompanying the menacing stomp of the horse hooves and sonorous bellows of the war-elephants, filled the air. A disdain filled pall of doom had settled upon the lands. Beyond the furrow-browed clanging of iron mongers hastily crafting the blades of death, far above the city, deep inside the labyrinth of the palace, a fervour of low voices discussed each moment about to befall upon the rich tapestry of their gilded history. Each voice, held within it, the foreboding of bloody conclusion. Sands of time glided towards the descent, howling in its unyielding ruinous din. The wheels of royal chariots crunched the earth as they came to a halt. Silence enveloped the chamber where the voices spoke. The decision was about to be made. A dark journey was about to begin. A journey which would navigate the mystical waters of time. And then one moonless night, raindrops danced upon the lap of waters of the changed land, breathing in its quiet an echo of death. The wheezy thrum of a motor engine weaved through the ominous night. A night which would perhaps, eventually knock upon the hope-filled gates of a history which had awaited deliverance for countless centuries. And then danced the raindrops upon the changed land some more.

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