"Sufiyan ne jaise hi Dubai ke mahal mein wapas kadam rakha, usne dekha ki waqt wahi ruka hua tha. Pierre ab bhi wahan khada tha aur Sheikh uske agle move ka intezar kar rahe the. Par ek farq tha—Sufiyan ki sunehri kainchi ab ek purani, kaali aur mamuli lohe ki kainchi ban chuki thi.
Pierre ne zor se thahaka lagaya, 'Sufiyan! Tumhari kainchi ki chamak kahan gayi? Kya tumne apna jadu kisi bazaar mein bech diya?' Sheikh ne bhi hairani se pucha, 'Sufiyan, kya tum ab bhi mera haircut kar paoge?'
Sufiyan ne gehri saans li aur apni purani kainchi ko ek kapde se saaf kiya. Usne aaine mein apna chehra dekha—usne apni taqat zaroor khoi thi, par usne 16th Century mein apne Dada ko baal kaat-te hue dekha tha. Usne seekha tha ki asli jadu hath ki 'Raftaar' aur 'Nazakat' mein hota hai.
Usne Sheikh ke baalon par hath lagaya. Bina kisi jadui lavender oil ke, usne sirf thoda sa saada paani istemal kiya aur apni kainchi chalani shuru ki. Kainchi se koi neeli roshni nahi nikli, par uski 'Khat-Khat' ki awaz kisi sangeet (music) jaisi thi. Pierre ki aankhen phati reh gayin—Sufiyan ki speed itni tez thi ki uski kainchi hawa mein ek dhundli lakeer (blur) ban gayi thi. Woh bina kisi jadu ke, sirf apne sadiyon purane hunar se ek aisi 'Masterpiece' bana raha tha jo Pierre ki heere wali kainchi kabhi nahi bana sakti thi."