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Finding Neverland Blog Archive

The Story of World War 1 (Part 6)

Battle of the Canal du Nord
 
New states under war zone

In the late spring of 1918, three new states were formed in the South Caucasus: the First Republic of Armenia, the Azerbaijan Democratic Republic, and the Democratic Republic of Georgia, which declared their independence from the Russian Empire. Two other minor entities were established, the Centrocaspian Dictatorship and South West Caucasian Republic (the former was liquidated by Azerbaijan in the autumn of 1918 and the latter by a joint Armenian-British task force in early 1919). With the withdrawal of the Russian armies from the Caucasus front in the winter of 1917–18, the three major republics braced for an imminent Ottoman advance, which commenced in the early months of 1918. Solidarity was briefly maintained when the Transcaucasian Federative Republic was created in the spring of 1918, but this collapsed in May, when the Georgians asked and received protection from Germany and the Azerbaijanis concluded a treaty with the Ottoman Empire that was more akin to a military alliance. Armenia was left to fend for itself and struggled for five months against the threat of a full-fledged occupation by the Ottoman Turks.

Woman

Women

Written By: Anonymous

Nowadays a woman is known by two names. Whore and Slut. Man, she refused to sleep with me, what a whore! Aye man, she slept with me, yeah, what a slut! Yeah that's a regular conversation between two different people with different topics on daily basis. it's funny how we call boys, Larka, Chokra, asshole or xyz. But we call girls, Item, Patakha, slut, whore, sexy, hottie.

Duh, obviously who cares? we are born to be rapped no boys? we don't deserve to live, right? we are born with sexy bodies to get rapped. We don't ask for anything from you guys but just one thing, "respect" our respect is everything to us. We are born to be rapped. before rapping a girl, just remember what will you do when someone rape your sister, your daughter? you laugh when you see a girl being rapped but you won't be laughing when you'll see your daughter after being rapped. always remember what happens in your past as a connection with your future. Your mother, sister is a women too. If you're breathing today, you're in this world that's cause of a women. Today, im proud to say, Im a women. But unfortunately "women" doesn't have the same respect nowadays. Respect girls, boys will respect your daughter too.

That day, 16/12/14

Peshawar Attack

Written By: Wajeeha A.

As a citizen of Peshawar, and a student of APS, I feel 'directly affected' by the 16 December incident. Here’s my story.

Tuesday, 16th December, 2015, 11:15 pm:

The bell marked the end of our chemistry period. Thank God. It was now our recess, to be followed by the games period. No studies for an hour, we couldn't wait to get out of the class. As we stepped outside the class, we suddenly saw teachers emerging from all the corners of the school, signaling us to get back in. We didn't know why, but there was a whisper.. There had been firing in the Boys branch, and a teacher's son had been killed. I remember how I shocked I felt. I couldn't bring myself to terms with the fact that someone's son had been murdered in his own school. Everyone was rather calm. We thought there had been a firing incident and that was it, it was all good now. Nobody gave us any details. Some girls were even laughing, enjoying at that time. I, knowing what losing a loved one is like, felt terrible about the death of a young boy. Then our math teacher came. She tried her best to distract us, by teaching us. And while some of us were still in shock, others were demanding to be let out as it was supposed to be our games period. She left when the bell rang. I was standing in the doorway of my classroom with a friend when I saw a house captain running towards me. She said to ask my class to get their bags and form a line. That was when some of the girls, whose brothers were studying in the Boys College, started panicking. 

Peshawar Attack

We were all in a line with our class teacher. We asked her to tell is what was happening. That was when we realised how serious it was. She said terrorists had entered the College, in uniforms, and started firing. For our sake, or maybe she herself didn't know, she said that just 33 students were injured. That was when many of the girls started crying. My best friend too, as her 7th-grader brother was there. I tried to comfort her, teary-eyed myself. She asked a teacher to call her father. Her father said that her brother had run away from the sschool, to his grandmother's house. We were then moved near the gate. Parents were coming to pick their children. As a house captain, I was with the teachers, calling names & trying to search for the girls whose families had come to pick them. Around 1 pm, my mother came to pick me and I went home too. There was no electricity so I still didn't know what was actually happening. Despite not knowing all that, I felt like crying. And I did. As soon as the electricity was back, at 2 pm, and the TV was switched on, I went into shock. I couldn't speak. I tried to blink away the tears of pain & rage, but I couldn't. I tried to comprehend what was happening, but I couldn't for a while. They were saying around 20 students were dead. Twenty! And then the CM told the press the casualties were 80-100. It was too much for me. They said 1, and I was devastated. They said 100, and I wish I would have died right then and there.
Peshawar Attack

The death toll is reportedly 144. I don't believe it, it's much greater than that. I thought my tears had dried up. I still look at the pictures, profiles, even result of these martyrs, and my tears can't stop. I was sitting alone, when the sight of my uniform, with my sash gleaming on the green sweater, caught my eye. It could've easily been this uniform that would've been red today. I thought, how'll I ever wear it again? But then I think of them, the brave boys in green, fighting valiantly against the savage beasts who attacked them, of how selflessly they saved younger children. I remember some of them from our time together in junior school. I look at them now; they're all over the media. Some of them are here to see their faces all over the international media, but some of them aren't. It's hard to not mourn them. To not miss them. To not cry for them. But I can't even imagine the reward they've gotten for their bravery. I can't imagine their ranks in Jannah. I'm jealous. As for the ones who're here, I must thank them. For in their smiles, I found my strength. If they're brave enough to go back to school, so shall I be. It must be killing them inside, losing their friends. I can't think of returning to school without my friends. I can't think of a life without my friends. But look at them!  It is true then, that "burdens are for shoulders strong enough to carry them." Calling them brave would be an understatement. We should comfort them, but instead, they comfort us. We're crying today. We feel as if we will never smile again. But we will. My city is bleeding. My citizens are crying. How'll we ever heal? But we will. I've seen that these brutal murderers can't terrify my Peshawar, my Pakistan. Words like ‘terror’ are not in my country’s dictionary. We've suffered so much in these 68 years. How'll we survive? But we will.

Shahid Afridi

Shahid Afridi

Written By: Hamza Khawaja

October 1996, a 16 year old boy gets drafted into the Pakistani squad for the four-team series as a replacement for legspinner Mushtaq Ahmed, nobody knows who he is. He debuts at no. 8 playing as a legspinner against Kenya and doesn't get to bat. The next match is against Sri Lanka, and he's instructed to go bat at no. 3 and just smash and what does he do? He scores the fastest century ever for the time being which by the way doesn't get bettered until several years later. He stuns everybody and shuts up the whole world's mouths.

There was that day, and there is this day, he made Pakistan cry today, he made them emotional, sad, depressed and he gave them so much to remember. He gave them uncountable records and not to mention, a legend. Transformed into a bowler, still the bowlers feared bowling against him. Every wicket celebrated in that trademark Boom boom style, whoa. heart emoticon

That's Sahibzaada Shahid Khan Afridi for you. No matter what he did, no matter if he couldn't perform in his last matches. He will be missed forever.

Questions and Answers

Questions

Written By: Zahra Shafiq

I miss you.

You. Yes You!
You are not ‘You’ anymore!
I remember you smiling. That time.
I remember that promises you made to me.
They say “People don’t understand promises they are making, when they make them. But you keep your promises anyway, That’s what love is.”
But I do think now,
When you love you know your part, knowing what to do doesn't come from up, it comes from here. Heart.
That warm glow on your face, that stare
You were all mine.
I remember all of it.
I miss it .
This missing bleeds,
Makes me harder to breathe.
Why am I writing this. I don’t know.
Do I still love you?
Yes.
Do I need you back?
May be.
Do I need a hug?
O hell yes.
Sorry
I talked a lot.
I'm sorry. Thank you for bearing with me.
A last thing. Get back to being ‘ you’ maybe?
Its worth a shot.
Sincerely,
Me
Who else?

DADA, in the memory of my Grandfather

Grandfather

Written By: Khadijah Khalil

It's all that I have. His pillow, his ring, his picture and his cap in which I try to find his scent.
Once, he was always with me, making me laugh when I cried. Protecting me from my parents whenever they were about to scold me. Playing with me. Fighting with me over the remote. Buying me things. Waiting for me on the stairs and surprising me as I came back from school. Watching TV together. Dancing with one finger in the air. Eating lollipops (coka cola flavour). Praying together. Teasing people together.

Laughing. Loving. Caring. Playing. Dancing. Crying. Enjoying. Praying.

All that we had, 'had', using past tense for the person I love so much, hurts, it hurts so bad.
When I opened my eyes in this world, you were there, my parents told me that you're my DADA. You played with me and carried me everywhere. You cheered when I first called you in broken words DA DA. You tried to make sure that I never get hurt, you made me laugh, made me love, made me smile. I started growing up, you told me right and wrong. I started loving you for being so different and special. You bought for me different things to eat, you fulfilled my every wish. You made me start loving life. You showed me that being who we are and always remaining happy and sharing happiness with the world isn't so hard. I realised how lucky I am to have you. You held my hand tightly when we crossed the road, shielding me from danger.

You wiped out my tears everytime you saw me crying. I found a great friend in you. You fought for me. You lost the games for me just to make me happy. You went to hospitals and came back with the lollipop in your mouth. I first got scared but you told me there was nothing to worry about. I believed. I believed in you. I believed that you'll always be there. But, when I came back from school, happy 'cause my papers got finish, saw you on bed, a bit dull. You were going to the hospital, I said goodbye, I didn't hug you or kiss you. I heard that you're okay and will be coming back home very soon, as always. I started waiting for you, imagining to welcome you and fall asleep. Woke up by my mother. Saw people crying. They told me you're not coming back. But, I believed 'you'. I waited for you. You came back. But, didn't look at me. I cried. You didn't wipe my tears this time. I was shocked. Helpless. Surprised to see you that way. They said that they're taking you now, but I wanted to touch you. I wanted to go along with you. But I couldn't. You went away forever. But, I believed you!

6 years, and you're visiting me in my dreams. Fulfilling your promise. Telling me that you're still with me and will always do. I believe you. I still do....

The Story of World War 1 (Part 5)

Treaty of Brest-Litovsk

Eastern Front.

While the Western Front had reached stalemate, the war continued in East Europe. Initial Russian plans called for simultaneous invasions of Austrian Galicia and German East Prussia. Although Russia's initial advance into Galicia was largely successful, it was driven back from East Prussia by Hindenburg and Ludendorff at Tannenberg and the Masurian Lakes in August and September 1914.  Russia's less developed industrial base and ineffective military leadership was instrumental in the events that unfolded. By the spring of 1915, the Russians had retreated to Galicia, and, in May, the Central Powers achieved a remarkable breakthrough on Poland's southern frontiers. On 5 August, they captured Warsaw and forced the Russians to withdraw from Poland.
 

Russian Revolution

Despite the success of the June 1916 Brusilov Offensive in eastern Galicia, dissatisfaction with the Russian government's conduct of the war grew. The offensive's success was undermined by the reluctance of other generals to commit their forces to support the victory. Allied and Russian forces were revived only temporarily by Romania's entry into the war on 27 August. German forces came to the aid of embattled Austro-Hungarian units in Transylvania while a German-Bulgarian force attacked from the south, and Bucharest fell to the Central Powers on 6 December. Meanwhile, unrest grew in Russia, as the Tsar remained at the front. Empress Alexandra's increasingly incompetent rule drew protests and resulted in the murder of her favourite, Rasputin, at the end of 1916.

P.S. I Love You

PS I Love You

Written By: Anonymous.

‘How does it happen? Love?’
‘What’s the word even supposed to mean?’
‘ I mean, does it even exist? Do two people actually like each other?’
‘Will I ever fall in love with someone or will anyone love me?’

All common questions for people like me. Till a few months ago, when I was in the midst of my 3am thoughts..

You know how you come up to the belief, ‘Oh my, I’m too weird for anyone to love me’, trust me when I say this, it fades away when you come up to the stage of being loved. Afterwards, you feel like the best person in the world. For him, at least; and to be quite honest, he’s the only one that actually concerns you then. You could be the prettiest person in the world, the kind of person who never gives into people’s compliments because she already knows, but when he tells you so, you stare at yourself in the mirror as if you had doubted it and you blush for 5 minutes, thinking to yourself, ‘Gosh, he thinks I'm pretty.’