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Wednesday, December 30, 2015

Love of Mother


Love of a mother is something I have never experienced in my life. I would always wonder how it will feel having someone to care for you, to annoy, to hug or to request the favorite dish to cook for you. But anyways, everything happens for a reason.

Maybe she's the reason. No blood relation but the closest thing to a mother in my life. She actually has selflessly done so much for me I can't even imagine to count the things she has done. Exactly the way a mother would do? Always trying to look after me, over the past few years bailing me out of difficult situations, there for me when fighting between life and death, even providing for my education as much as she could.

She had no son, she made me her son.

Life wasn't kind to her and maybe took its toll, she's been unwell for over six months now, growing weaker and weaker, barely been able to walk, doctors have been unable to diagnose what it is.

She says nothing, shows no signs from within, but it is obvious. I've seen her going from good to bad and now perhaps worse. There are times I feel helpless even after trying my best. I know she needs me 24/7 but life gets in the way.

Good people in my life don't last long. I am afraid she won't either. Who knows though.

But I don't know what to do, how to stop it, how to freeze time. All I can do is pray but it seems that's not enough.

People with parents are lucky.

There isn't enough you can do for them, for what they do for you, they do so much without even letting you realize.

Then apparently we grow up, we argue with them, we sometimes fail to respect them! Can't even imagine how they must feel.

No one stays forever, everyone has to leave! Time flies, we should care for them as much, love them, spend time with them, respect them but most importantly, make them proud.

Because believe me, when the worst comes, everything slips and when you can't do anything, it for sure is not a good feeling.

Monday, December 21, 2015

Full Team Squads for Pakistan Super League

The draft auction of Pakistan Super League (PSL) took place on the 21st and 22nd December 2015 and the five participating teams which have been named as Islamabad United, Karachi Kings, Lahore Qalandars, Peshawar Zalmi and Quetta Gladiators were able to select their squad of 20 players from the platinum, diamond, gold, silver and emerging categories.

A total of 310 players were available for the auction and 100 players were picked up by the teams. Here is the list of squad picked up by the teams.

Islamabad United Logo

Islamabad United
Coach: Dean Jones.

Misbah-ul-Haq (Pakistan, Platinum)
Andre Russell (West Indies, Platinum)
Shane Watson (Australia, Platinum)
Samuel Badree (West Indies, Diamond)
Mohammad Irfan (Pakistan, Diamond)
Brad Haddin (Australia, Diamond)
Sharjeel Khan (Pakistan, Gold)
Mohammad Sami (Pakistan, Gold)
Khalid Latif (Pakistan, Gold)
Babar Azam (Pakistan, Silver)
Imran Khalid (Pakistan, Silver)
Kamran Ghulam (Pakistan, Silver)
Umar Amin (Pakistan, Silver)
Sam Billings (England, Silver)
Ruman Raees (Pakistan, Emerging)
Amad Butt (Pakistan, Emerging)
Ashar Zaidi (England, Supplementary)
Saeed Ajmal (Pakistan, Supplementary)
Hussain Talat (Pakistan, Supplementary)
Umar Siddiq (Pakistan, Supplementary)

Karachi Kings Logo

Karachi Kings
Coach: Mickey Arthur

Shoaib Malik (Pakistan, Platinum)
Shakib Al Hasan (Bangladesh, Platinum)
Sohail Tanvir (Pakistan, Platinum)
Immad Wasim (Pakistan, Diamond)
Ravi Bopara (England, Diamond)
Lendl Simmons (West Indies, Diamond)
Mohammad Amir (Pakistan, Gold)
Bilawal Bhatti (Pakistan, Gold)
James Vince (England, Gold)
Iftikhar Ahmed (Pakistan, Silver)
Nauman Anwar (Pakistan, Silver)
Mushfiqur Rahim (Bangladesh, Silver)
Usama Mir (Pakistan, Silver)
Sohail Khan (Pakistan, Silver)
Mir Hamza (Pakistan, Emerging)
Saifullah Bangash (Pakistan, Emerging)
Tillakaratne Dilshan (Sri Lanka, Supplementary)
Shahzaib Hasan (Pakistan, Supplementary)
Fawad Alam (Pakistan, Supplementary)


Lahore Qalandars Logo

Lahore Qalandars
Coach: Paddy Upton

Chris Gayle (West Indies, Platinum)
Umar Akmal (Pakistan, Platinum)
Dwayne Bravo (West Indies, Platinum)
Mohammad Rizwan (Pakistan, Diamond)
Yasir Shah (Pakistan, Diamond)
Sohaib Maqsood (Pakistan, Diamond)
Mustafizur Rahman (Bangladesh, Gold)
Kevon Cooper (West Indies, Gold)
Cameron Delport (South Africa, Gold)
Zafar Gohar (Pakistan, Silver)
Hammad Azam (Pakistan, Silver)
Zia-ul-Haq (Pakistan, Silver)
Zohaib Khan (Pakistan, Silver)
Azhar Ali (Pakistan, Silver)
Naved Yasin (Pakistan, Emerging)
Adnan Rasool (Pakistan, Emerging)
Abdul Razzaq (Pakistan, Supplementary)
Mukhtar Ahmed (Pakistan, Supplementary)
Ehsan Adil (Pakistan, Supplementary)
Imran Butt (Pakistan, Supplementary


Peshawar Zalmi Logo

Peshawar Zalmi
Coach: Muhammad Akram

Shahid Afridi (Pakistan, Platinum)
Wahab Riaz (Pakistan, Platinum)
Darren Sammy (West Indies, Platinum)
Kamran Akmal (Pakistan, Diamond)
Mohammad Hafeez (Pakistan, Diamond)
Chris Jordan (England, Diamond)
Tamim Iqbal (Bangladesh, Gold)
Junaid Khan (Pakistan, Gold)
James Allenby (Australia, Gold)
Aamir Yamin (Pakistan, Silver)
Dawid Malan (England, Silver)
Imran Khan Jr. (Pakistan, Silver)
Shahid Yousuf (Pakistan, Silver)
Abdur Rehman (Pakistan, Silver)
Musaddiq Ahmed Ali (Pakistan, Emerging)
Hasan Ali (Pakistan, Emerging)
Mohammad Asghar (Pakistan, Supplementary)
Brad Hodge (Australia, Supplementary)
Israrullah (Pakistan, Supplementary)
Taj Wali (Pakistan, Supplementary)


Quetta Gladiators Logo

Quetta Gladiators
Coach: Moin Khan

Kevin Pietersen (England, Platinum)
Ahmed Shehzad (Pakistan, Platinum)
Sarfraz Ahmed (Pakistan, Platinum)
Anwar Ali (Pakistan, Diamond)
Jason Holder (West Indies, Diamond)
Luke Wright (England, Diamond)
Zulfiqar Babar (Pakistan, Gold)
Umar Gul (Pakistan, Gold)
Elton Chigumbura (Zimbabwe, Gold)
Bilal Asif (Pakistan, Silver)
Asad Shafiq (Pakistan, Silver)
Mohammad Nawaz (Pakistan, Silver)
Saad Nasim (Pakistan, Silver)
Mohammad Nabi (Afghanistan, Silver)
Akbar-ur-Rehman (Pakistan, Emerging)
Bismillah Khan (Pakistan, Emerging)
Kumar Sangakkara (Sri Lanka, Supplementary)
Aizaz Cheema (Pakistan, Supplementary)
Ramiz Raja Jr. (Pakistan, Supplementary)

Sunday, December 20, 2015

A Short Sorrow

Couple
Written By: Hasaan Arshad

The time is 11:33.
The sky is dark. Obviously, because its night.
The man walked.
Oh! The rhythm of his feet was bliss!!!
He walked and walked.
Went outside the house, he did.
Took the car, he did.
Where did he drive at this hour??
My oh My! Only time will tell!!
The time is 11:44.
He has reached his destination.
He takes out a smoke.
The wonderful smell of smoke engulfs the car.
He coughs.
He gets out.
Closing the door, locking the car.
He looks ahead.
The graveyard greets him.
Such a dreadful sight.
He walks ahead.
Oh how he walks!!
One step.
Two Steps.
Three Steps.
Repeat.
The rhythm is amazing!!
He walks and walks.
Till he reaches his destination.
Its a grave, no less.
He bents down.
He cries.
A soft sob, nothing less.
For some time he sobs.
He leaves.
He leaves his beloved wife.
Leaves her in the darkness of night.
Goes back.
The time is 11:55.
He is coming back.
Suddenly, a sharp light seizes him.
He is shocked.
Unable to react, his car gets hit.
He suffers major damage.
He is taken to the hospital.
He is unconscious.
His wife arrives.
He looks at her and tears fill his eyes.
The time is 1:05
His wife hugs him.
She cries.
They both cry.
The soft sobbing fills the air.
Meanwhile, the doctors are busy.
Meanwhile, the husband and wife talk.
Oh! How they talk!
Laughs and Giggles!!
Those two talk and talk.
Then the wife gets up.
The man is sad.
He tells her, "I will come with you"
She reminds him, "This is not your time"
Then, she leaves.
He cries.
He regains conscious.
He cries in real life.
His wife, gone.
The doctors try to make him stop.
But he doesn't.
His wife, gone.
Him, still here.
Isn't Life unfair??
He desired death.
But.
At the same time, he feared it.
He cried loudly.
The doctors surround him.
Emergency medical equipment is brought.
The man, starts to shake.
The doctors try to bring him back.
But they fail.
For the man, is reunited with his wife.
He smiles at her.
She smiles back.
They are reunited.
Forever, at last.

Thursday, December 17, 2015

Death - May We Welcome Thee

Saint and Satan
Written By: Hasaan Arshad

I, a boy, walked.
Walked, from my house.
Away from it.
Leaving it Behind.
Not Forever, mind you.
Just a little adventure....of sorts.
As I continued my journey.
I met a traveler.
Clad in black, he was.
Middle-aged, he was
A black hood, he had.
He stopped me, and asked me.
>Can I follow you?
I was surprised.
A sudden question.
Doubts, arose in my mind.
But I was interested.
I let him be, and walked.
He followed.
For some time, we walked.
I looked back.
The man wasn't following me.
But, it was a child.
Clad in black, he was.
Very young, he was.
A black hat, he had.
He looked at me.
I looked at him.
A short meeting of eyes.
Then, I walked.
He followed.
For some time, we walked.
I looked back.
The boy wasn't following me.
But, it was a woman.
Clad in black, she was.
Very old, she was.
A black hood, she had.
She looked at me, and smiled.
I was scared now.
But I walked.
She followed.
For some time, we walked.
I looked back.
The woman wasn't following me.
But, it was Nothing.
I sighed.
Perhaps, it was a demon.
I looked ahead.
I continued my walk.
Reaching the crosswalk, I stopped.
I was about to check for incoming cars.
When, I was brushed aside.
It was a little girl.
Colorful clothes, she had.
Laughing and Smiling, she was.
She ran ahead of me.
I smiled at her innocence.
Then, IT happened.
Death.
A truck ran over the innocent girl.
Blood.
It sprayed on my face.
It sprayed on my clothes.
It sprayed on the ground, on which I stood.
I was shocked.
Closed my eyes, I did.
Covered my face with my hands, I did.
Cried, I did.
>Mister...Why are you crying?
I looked ahead.
And saw, not Death.
But, the Little Girl.
I was amazed.
I looked behind me.
There was no man.
There was no boy.
There was no old woman.
I looked right and left.
Then, I looked across the street.
An old woman, clad in black, was walking away.
She looked back.
And I could see the faintest of smiles.
Death....Are you really a foe?
Or, Are you a misunderstood Angel??
I walked away.

Tuesday, December 15, 2015

One Year after the Peshawar Attack.

Peshawar Massacre

It was exactly one year ago on this date, 16th December 2014 when some 'brave' terrorists attacked a school and massacred 144 kids of Peshawar. An act of terrorism that left unforgettable memories and unrecoverable scars on everyone who has any kind relation with Pakistan and moved everyone else around the world.

Main aims of the terrorists were to divide Pakistan, to show their power, to scare Pakistanis with what they can do, they wanted to hurt Pakistan and hurt we were at that moment, everyone was. But were the terrorists able to achieve their objectives? The simple answer is no.

The moment this worst news spread over the country, People, everyone forgot every ounce of hate they had for each other and became united. No matter what religion, what sect, what cast and what political party and what provincial identity anyone had.  Tragedies do bring people together and for sure it did.Yes, that day we saw the UNITED PAKISTAN. A Pakistan alien to most of us, since we have low tolerance level and we love negativity but that day, Pakistan was stronger than anything we have seen in ages.

Whole of the world felt for Pakistan that day, they realized what we have been going through fighting this war on terror, how much we have sacrificed over the years trying to save this world from the worst evil. They realized finally that Pakistan is not the cause, Pakistan itself is the victim and that it needs our support. Vigils and special prayers were carried out throughout the world. Worst enemies for once became friends since Indians showed their support for Pakistan.

Terrorists who wanted to show how powerful they are, after one year are scattered all over the country and running for their lives. Pakistan Army's Zarb E Azab operation that started after this terrible day has literally broken the backbone of terrorists. Their strongholds have become their weak zones , their safe homes have become their graves.

If they had any kind of sympathy among Pakistanis before that day, it literally flied away. Everyone ever since hates them and yes that is the only feeling in our hearts today and yes that is how it will be in the future as well.

Pakistanis were supposed to feel unsafe and unsure after that day, but it turned out to be the opposite, we are braver, stronger and more powerful. Terrorists and the whole world has seen that we really are brave, that whatever the situation, however worst it is, we can get through it because we believe in ourselves.

Those butchers wanted to end lives, but the day 144 kids flew away to a better place, 580 new kids were born, 580 more kids that will one day serve Pakistan, will make Pakistan proud, will take it forward, will love it more and will be willing to die for it when need be.

They wanted to destroy us, but what happened was they changed lives. So many people shed tears that day, It changed so many people. It made us more responsible more thoughtful and made us realize that every life matters, every action matters.

It changed me, that day has changed me so much. That night was one of the most horrible of my life, I cried. I promised myself that I will dedicate my life for my country, I realized that the terrorists are so scared of us, we youngsters, that we can make a difference, that everything we do to make Pakistan better will be the best revenge.

One year later the terrorists have lost. We are a better Pakistan now, a stronger Pakistan. We won, we won everything after that day, the world won, peace won, and most importantly those 144 cute kids of Peshawar won.

They must be smiling from heavens right now, because their lives haven't gone wasted. They have done what no one could do, they defeated terrorism, they for sure must be smiling, with sparkly eyes, the ones they had when singing the national anthem of Pakistan during the morning assembly, the ones they had when they left for school that very morning to never come back.

A Message for our Young Heroes


Written By: Komal Aziz
I tried to start writing this message quite a few times, but just ended in tears and a dry throat. Just to think about that dreadful incident and put that lifeless feeling into words is one of the most difficult tasks i have ever had to do.

16th December 2014 can never be forgotten, will never be forgotten. The children and teachers who lost their lives that day to the hands of those brutes will forever live in all our hearts. And i can give my word that I will keep praying for them and their families till my last breath. However, this post is not only for the ones who were martyred that day, but also for those who survived the battle.

You, my brothers, are the heroes. To survive that incident and to go back to the same school is something i could never have done.

Your entire nation stands with you for the immense amount of dauntlessness and courage you have shown by studying at APS again. This is no less than a tight slap on TPP who thought they could break us, or could scare you. They were absolutely wrong. I salute you, and also your families for raising brave sons like you for Pakistan.

We need more people like you, your Pakistan needs brave people like you. And i believe if we have such bold Pakistanis, we can rise again and defeat our enemies together.

You have not just shocked and delighted this nation, you have inspired us. So I thank you for that. Thank you for inspiring me as a human being, thank you for showing me that we still have a lot of hope left. And thank you for motivating me to be a better Pakistani, and a courageous person.

May Allah(SWT) always protect you and your families, and give you all the success in life.

And may Allah(SWT) grant our martyred brothers and sisters the highest place in Jannah.

And lastly, May Allah(SWT) keep Pakistan safe.

Ameen.

Regards,
An inspired 

Thank you, Martyrs of Peshawar Attack.

Picture Credits: Rabiya Sheikh
Thank you to the 6 year old Khaula Bibi, who was the youngest and only female student martyred during Peshawar Attack, it was her first and sadly the last day of school life. She was excited to join 1st grade so that she can study in the same school as her siblings. Khaula's family describe her as a flower. She was passionate about education at such a young age and had persuaded a professor in her neighborhood to send his daughter to school, who did not want to send her daughter but was swayed by Khaula and her sweet words. Her mother will never be able to recover from the loss, while her father tries to be brave, but in his heart, he misses her every single day.

Thank you to the 12 year old Shahzeb Nazir, who loved playing video games and saved his pocket money to buy the latest CD's of video games. He had won several medals for outstanding performance in studies and extra curricular activities. Shahzeb chose the lives of his friends over his own. His classmate Samiullah says Shahzeb saved him and their other friends during the massacre.

Thank you to the 13 year old Ahmed Ali Shah, who lost his father when he was just 4 years old. He was a very responsible boy and never asked his mother for anything. He also had a beautiful voice and used to recite Naat during school assembly. His mother says he was a wise boy and wanted become an auto engineer so he could build car for themselves, and that she missed him because he was the only one who took care of her.

Thank you to the 14 year old Atif ur Rehman, the youngest of eight siblings, aspired to be a doctor and serve the residents of his village. His elder brother facilitated Atif’s move from their village to Peshawar for his studies. His elder brother says he feels Atif’s absence every day. He says after the family lost Atif, they were going through his schoolbooks and found he had written: “I love you, Dad. If anything happens, I would not let you down before anyone.”

Thank you to the 15 year old Bahram Ahmad Khan, who secured 91% in his last exam. This distinction was aside from the various medals he had won in academics and extra-curricular activities. His father recalls a story Bahram’s friends shared from the APS attack. During the attack, a friend of Bahram fell to the floor and broke his glasses due to which he could barely see. Bahram came back to get him but on their way out was stopped by a terrorist. His friends recall that Bahram pushed the terrorist and received two bullets in the chest which resulted in his death.

Thank you to the 16 year old Adnan Hussain, who on the day of the attack took his father’s new joggers, saying, “What kind of a father are you? You buy new ones for yourself and have your son wear old shoes?” He lost one of the shoes during the siege on APS. The second one has been locked away in a cupboard for safekeeping. Adnan was seriously injured in the attack and passed away on the night of Dec 18 at 8:30pm.

Thank you to the 17 year old Bilal Arshad, who always aspired to join the Pakistan Army as a commissioned officer. Giving by nature, Bilal often convinced his father to give him money so that he could treat his less-privileged friends to a nice restaurant. On the morning of the attack, he brought home two cakes before leaving for school. He ate one and told his mother to serve the other to his father who was sleeping at that time. Bilal’s father woke up late that day and immediately learnt of the APS attack that also claimed his son’s life. Till date, the cake is still at home.

Thank you to the 18 year old Ibrar Zahid, who was the eldest amongst his siblings, Ibrar was a hardworking student and responsible young man. His father says when his son was alive, he did not have to worry about his younger children as Ibrar looked after them like a parent. He also took great care of his mother, and would often run errands with her or take her to the hospital for check ups. Ibrar was shot three times – in the spine, chest and leg. He fought for his life for a week after the attack, but succumbed to his injuries on December 23.

Thank you to the 19 year old Muhammad Daud, who was punctual, disciplined and studious and had been appointed house captain. His father says Daud was not just a son, but also a friend. “I was very frank with him,” he says. He shares that after one of Daud's classmates mentioned his father had passed away, Daud would take extra pocket money every day to help his friend.

Thank you to the 20 year old Abdul Azam Afridi, who was a fun-loving, naughty student. He once went to the computer lab and poured water on all the computers. Later, when an infuriated teacher asked who did it, Abdul owned up to the mischief and paid a fine for the act. Before he passed away, he told his driver he was excited about adopting his friend’s Persian cat.

Thank you to the 22 year old Muhammad Sami, who was the peon at APS School. His father suffered from cancer, and Sami set out to work when he was just a young boy to support the family and pay medical bills. He had been performing his duty at APS for eight years till the day he was killed. His mother says Sami did not enjoy his youth like other children. He had to be the man of the house. Despite the huge responsibility of an entire household on his young shoulders, His siblings who live at home are in dire poverty as the sole breadwinner of the family is no longer there.

Thank you to the 23 year old Hafsa Khush, who an intelligent and determined woman, Hafsa began working at the Army Public School in 2013. She was close to her mother and was engaged to be married. Despite having a chance to save herself and leave the premises, Hafsa chose to stay back to help injured students. It is during this time that she was shot and killed.

Thank you to the 24 year old Muhammad Hussain, who served as gardener in the Army Public School (APS) for a period of seven years. Hussain was a hard working man, his brother recalls, saying how after his gardening job at the APS, he would return home and go to work as a farmer in the fields. Hussain enjoyed playing cricket and was good in the game.

Thank you to the 25 year old Mudassar Khan, who was a lab assistant and had a Diploma in Clinical Pathology and a Masters in Pashto from the University of Peshawar. He was the eldest amongst his siblings and the sole bread winner of his family. For this reason, he had left his village to work. He got engaged 15 days before he was killed.

Thank you to the 28 year old Hajra Sharif, who was a chemistry teacher at APS, Hajra Sharif had the knack of controlling a class effectively, and was very well-rounded in her subject. According to Hajra’s siblings, she emphasised a great deal on women’s education, and her aim was to open a girls’ school in her village Karak.

Thank you to the 30 year old Benish Umer, who was a teacher, a loving wife and a caring mother, teaching was Benish’s mission in life. Her husband Umer recalls that it was Benish’s tenacity that helped the family maintain discipline. Benish had the chance to get out safely during the attack but chose to stay back so she could administer first aid to the injured students. This is when she was shot.

Thank you to the 32 year old Muhammad Bilal, who was a guard at APS Peshawar, Bilal and his wife were expecting their second child when he was killed. His wife has named her newborn Hanan, because her husband loved that name. He was a loving father. He wanted the best for his son Abbas, and dreamt that he would become a doctor some day. He was attacked by the terrorists when they saw him helping children escape from a back exit.

Thank you to the 33 year old Sahar Afshan, who was helping evacuate students when the
attackers targeted her. She joined APS in 2006 as an Urdu teacher. She had completed a Masters in Urdu from the University of Peshawar and was also pursuing MPhil. As a result of her commitment and hard work, she was promoted to the senior section shortly after she joined.

Thank you to the 39 year old Saima Zareen, who had been teaching English at the APS for 17 years. The day of the attack, Saima rushed into the auditorium to save injured students. As she made her way in and out of the room, she was apprehended by one attacker. She was shot dead and her body set on fire. Her husband vows to continue her dream, to teach. He misses her dearly.

Thank you to the 40 year old clerk Akbar Zaman, who was admired by his entire village and even now he is fondly remembered. Akbar had made it a point to bring back gifts from Peshawar for all the kids in the family when he would visit native Lakki Marwat for holidays. He was as a highly-dedicated employee who gave his life while performing his duty.

Thank you to the 41 year old clerk Muhammad Shafiq, who after school, he would drive a taxi to earn extra money to support his family. Two of his children are now
studying at APS. The day of the attack, Shafiq was busy evacuating terrified students when he was gunned down. He had made his third trip back into the school during the rescue operation when he was struck.

Thank you to the 42 year old teacher Sofia Hijab, who is emembered by her daughters as their best friend. Her husband says she was present in the auditorium during the attack but had managed to exit safely. But that is when she decided to go back for her students. She pulled out many of those injured before the attackers killed her.

Thank you to the 50 year old Pervaiz Akhter, who worked at APS as a lab assistant for 20 years. He was utterly devoted to the school, and students remember him as honest and dedicated. According to his children he was a soft hearted father. Despite his limited salary he fulfilled all their demands. He always hoped his kids would get quality education and earn a name for Pakistan.

Thank you to the 53 year old Muhammad Saeed, who had been teaching Islamiat at APS for nine years. When the army launched an operation in Swat, Saeed invited three displaced people into his home and gave them food and shelter for three months. When the attackers struck, he advised students to stay calm and helped them. His parents, wife and five children miss him dearly and pray for him to rest in eternal peace.

Thank you to the 64 year old Tahira Qazi, who was the principal at APS Peshawar, She maintained a very sober exterior but was in fact a very soft-hearted person, her family says. According to a student injured in the APS attack, Tahira’s last words were: “They are my children and I am their mother.”

Thank you to all the Other remaining 119 people who gave away their life for Pakistan, to make it a better, stronger and a peaceful country, which has changed in a good way thanks to their sacrifice and we are never going to forget them. 

Monday, December 14, 2015

Warrior

Warrior
Written By: Hasaan Arshad

He looked.
Not at you, nor me.
At the Sky.
The Stars greeted him.
The Moon knelt before him.
And the Ever-Darkness bowed his head.
All the Things were gathered.
He looked at them, and smiled.
A rusty one, mind you.
Then, he left.
Bid them farewell.
Shut the curtains.
He talked with his family.
His Mother, shone with Beauty.
His Sister, shone with Creativity.
His Son, shone with Innocence.
His Father, shone with Care.
His Wife, shone with Love.
All the family was gathered.
He looked at them, and smiled.
Then, he left.
Bid them farewell.
He slept.
He opened his eyes.
The ceiling.....there was no ceiling.
He looked at his tattered house.
He got up.
No one.
He took his drinks and looked outside.
The sky was brown.
The air was noisy.
There was blood and screams.
He went outside.
Grabbed his gun.
On the porch, stood five graves.
He walked past them.
Only a single tear was shed.
Oh! How he wanted to sleep again.
To be with them.
To laugh and care.
But that was but a dream.
And this is...Reality.

Mujhe Dushman k Bachon ko Parhana hai


Mujhe Dushman k Bachon ko Parhana hai.
Wo jo saari he nazron se gira tha.Na tha insaan na jiska khuda tha.Mujhe maa uss se badla lenay jana hai.Mujhe dushman k bachon ko parhana hai. <3
Posted by Finding Neverland Blog on Monday, December 14, 2015

Lyrics of Song: Mujhe Dushman k Bachon ko Parhana hai
Qalam ki jo jagha thi woh wahin hai
Par uska naam tak baaaki nahi hai.
Qalam k nouk par nukta hai koi.
Jo sach ho wo bhala rukha hai koi.

Wo jis bachpan ne thora aur jeena tha.
Wo jis ne maa tumhara khwab cheena tha.
Mujhe maa uss se badla lenay jana hai.
Mujhe dushman k bachon ko parhana hai.
Mujhe maa uss se badla lenay jana hai.
Mujhe dushman k bachon ko parhana hai.

Wo jis ko soch k sotti nahi maa.
Kitabain dekh k roti rahi maa.
Hain kis ki wapsi ki raah takte
Ye darwaza khulaa babaa kyun rakhte.
kitabe dekh ke roti rahi maa
Mujhe maa uss se badla lenay jana hai.
Mujhe dushman k bachon ko parhana hai.

Jo dar k samnay hansta gaya hai. 
Jo apna chor k basta gaya hai.
Thi eik kaisi kahani likh gaya wo.
Kitabon main nishani rakh gaya wo.
Jo maatha choomnay wala lahu tha.
Wo jis ne khwab ka b khoon kiya tha.
Mujhe maa uss se badla lenay jana hai.
Mujhe dushman k bachon ko parhana hai.
Mujhe maa uss se badla lenay jana hai.
Mujhe dushman k bachon ko parhana hai.


Sunday, December 13, 2015

Last of the Innocent Ones.

Peshawar Attack Pakistan
Written By: Raafay Awan
(Dedicated to Peshawar Attack Victims)

A normal school day, or was it?
For sure it seemed like one.
Children gathered in the amphitheater,
When off went the guns.

As they waited to get home sooner or later,
A small boy hid in the corner,
Afraid of his executioner,
And afraid he should be.
He wanted to flee,
But he knew,
That the chances were few.

He looked around,
And saw nothing but bodies going down.
He wished he had stayed home,
Under the blanket of security,
Her mother's warm arms, purity.

The gunshots sounded like fireworks,
But there weren't any happy sparks.
Soon, the noises stopped,
But as he stood up, his heart dropped.

He was the only one left standing,
Or was it a misunderstanding?

He heard a click,
Which sounded like the devil's walking stick.
He turned around,
Stunned by what he witnessed.

A man held his gun to the head of his teacher,
Dearest, " please let her go! ",
The boy whispered. 
The man laughed and said " Oh!",
He let the lady go.
Grabbed the boy although,
The lady cried and cried,
Begging for the men to leave them alive,
He said, "Your men didn't let ours' survive!"

BANG! BANG!
Two more shots were heard,
And the boy's vision blurred,
As soon as he heard,
"Allah ho Akbar,"
Just like the other 143, 
His eyes closed forever. 

Friday, December 11, 2015

Notice the Hidden Pursuer

Secret Admirer
A Poem by: Hasaan Arshad 

Listen Hard, and Closely,
To my Sorrow-filled Song.
It's A Journey for the truth.
Hidden behind the Mask.
Lay all them flowers beside me,
So I may rip them apart.
No more tears can hold me,
Only my Shadowed-Wrath.
Now, you will understand.
What I had to face for you.
Listen Closely..
To The Drumbeat.
I had to shatter my dreams,
To bring you new hope.
I had to reform the world.
To present you a gift.
Why won't you look at me?
After everything, I have done?
Is this Fate? Or Destiny?
Or just a Child playing a Prank...
...
Stop worrying and look at me.
Notice my heart beating for you.
Don't gaze at the sky.
I am your only moon.
Don't be scared, even if they come,
I shall lay their heads at your feet.
So, Fret Not and Come.
I shall bury your tears.
Take you to the Sun.
Make you the Queen of the World.
So ignore the demons that follow you,
And Look.
Someone still admires you~
Let that be me..

Tuesday, December 8, 2015

Morning Amalgamation

Morning Time

Mornings are beautiful, they really are the best time of the day for me and I guess for many other people too, and anyone can come up with so many reasons to explain why mornings are beautiful they really are, they simply are breathtaking at times.

It is just the reality that strikes you in the morning when you open your eyes, like you are born again, that whatever happened yesterday does not matter anymore. That you have a chance to start all over and whatever you dream at night, now is the time to make it a reality.

It is just the feeling in the morning, you will get to know how your day is gonna be the moment you wake up in the morning. Every morning a different feeling, which brings a different mood and leads to relate-able actions.

It is the bluish brightness in the morning that give you the another chance to be with your loved ones, to forgive and forget, to enjoy every moment of life in the best possible way, because you never know when night falls and eyes close, if you will see the brightness ever again.

It is the peacefulness that exists during the morning time which gives you hope that things can be better, no matter how tough it has been, no matter how worse things are, it makes you believe that after a spell of darkness, there is always light.

It is the chirping of birds in the morning that can help you throughout your day. That morning is a time to be grateful for everything, that if birds can wake up early in the morning and pray to Almighty the least we can do is to take some time out to thank God for the blessings.

It is the freshness of the flowers in the morning that make you want the time to stop and wish that you can be a flower yourself, yes, just as beautiful from the outside and just as colorful from the inside. That to become a flower, you have to go through the dirt.

It is the silence in the morning which tells you that even if you have the power of words still the biggest power anyone ever has is staying quiet when needed, that you don't have to waste your words on people who deserve your silence. That the quieter you are the more you will hear and the louder you will speak.

It is the cool breeze blowing which, if you hear the breeze carefully, tells you a secret, perhaps your biggest secret. That you are your best friend and your biggest enemy. It makes you want to stretch your arm and legs, want you to close your eyes and inhale all the goodness around you, exhale all the negativity inside you.

It is you yourself above all, in the morning. That confidence within. That power you feel in everything. That nothing can go wrong unless you want it to go wrong, that whatever happens, during the day, you can go back to your loved ones, you will come home, and that it will all be okay in the end, because if it is not okay, it is not the end.


Sunday, December 6, 2015

How to Spend Your Last Day


Written By: Sarosh Jamil.
What if tomorrow was my last day, how would I spend today? A thought provoking and a silent call for all those people who are engaged in their life, everyday schedules and panicking about their future when we don’t even know about our next minute, will we be alive or die. so instead of worrying  for the future it’s better to enjoy every moment of your life to the fullest as if it’s the last day of your life.

Steve jobs said being the richest man in the cemetery doesn't matter to me. Going to bed at night saying we've done something wonderful, that's what matters to me.”so its better to always keep on doing experiments without caring about the results .instead of following the same path think to do something eccentric,innovative and different.create your own rules instead of following them because winners create rules they don’t follow them.

Saturday, December 5, 2015

Heroes of Pakistan - Aitzaz Hasan

Aitzaz Hasan

“There is little that a bomb can do to hurt you,” Aitzaz's friends would tease him because of his healthy frame.

They talked about suicide bombers all the time. The last time they talked about it was two days before Aitzaz died, sitting up there on the hill where the school is, the one he died protecting, the one now named after him. They told him, he wouldn’t be able to run away to save his life, and perhaps that humor turned out to be a dark reality.

It was a chilly winter morning of January 7, 2014 when 15 year old Aitzaz Hasan left for school with two other friends, they wasted time here and there, were late for the morning assembly as usual. They were asked to stand outside the school for sometime as a punishment.

Few minutes later a 25 year old man approached the gate, stated that he wanted to take admission and asked where the school assembly was exactly taking place. Suddenly one of them noticed a detonator on the man's vest and both of his other friends started running inside the school and pushed him along.

"I am going to stop him," he replied. "This man is going to kill my friends".

The man started running towards the school as well, Aitzaz tried confronting him, threw a stone at him which failed to hit the bomber, then he ran towards the person at grabbed him, this tussle led to the suicide bomber detonating his vest and an explosion took place, killing the bomber and severely injuring Aitzaz.

Children can be brave and reckless. Even when death stares them in the face, children are not paralysed by the fear of its finality. Few hours later, Aitzaz lost his life at the hospital fighting injuries. Two thousand children attended school that day, for sure he saved hundreds of lives.

Perhaps Aitzaz Hasan Bangash didn’t think of what it means to confront a suicide bomber, didn’t know the meaning of something as irrevocable as death. Or perhaps he did? But that didn’t stop him.

“My son made his mother cry, but saved hundreds of mothers from crying for their children.” His father says, with pride.

That's all he is able to say before he has to hide his strong willed face and stop his tears.

“I am happy that my son has become a martyr by sacrificing his life for a noble cause.”

This describes exactly why our country is full of brave people. Pakistan is proud of Aitzaz Ahsan. But Pakistan needs people like him, Pakistan needs us, more now, than ever.

Friday, December 4, 2015

Cheers to the Blessings in Life


The very first thing that comes in my mind whenever I think about myself is perhaps the best word to define me as well and the more I think about it, the more I realize and stronger this belief gets that I really am blessed.

Over the period of time I have noticed, and people point it out as well that usually whenever I write, gives a sad feeling and recently I've realized as well that there is no harm in being thankful for the things you have instead of wanting something you don't.

So this post is a dedication to the blessings in my life.

I am blessed with good people in my life. Tried and tested, people who would do anything for me, who understand me knowing the type of person I am. They give me hope in life and no matter what happens, are always there for me. And vice versa, whenever they need someone they look up to me. Sheer joy, of being there for someone who needs you is just beyond explanation.

I am blessed because people look up to me in so many ways, good ways, they are motivated by me and take me as an example though I am just another random person but they still do, what more would I really want. It overwhelms me when people draw me, paint me, write about me in their diaries, want to know me, start writing because of me, it for sure does. All this in return makes me want to be better, makes me more responsible. 

I am blessed in a way that I live life on my own and don't have to depend on others for the things, also there is no one to stop me from the things I want to do and no one to make me do things I don't want to. Freedom is good, freedom really is a blessing.

I am for sure blessed because in such a short life, I have had so many experiences, not all of them good, not all of them bad but I have learnt so much in such a short time, it makes me want to do things differently and think good about others.

I am blessed that I am writing on this blog right now, It is easily one of the brightest and proudest things in my life. It allows me to spread the message, the positivism that I want to, it helps me tell people about the good things in life. It helps so many other people who want a platform to showcase their talent and that for me is enough for a lifetime satisfaction. 

I am blessed with loads patience and self control and these have helped me so much in life, helped me stay away from so many bad things, bad people and bad experiences in life. The patience of waiting for things to happen, and the self control to not rush things has been the most precious asset of my life.

I am blessed to be a Pakistani, blessed to carry the passport of the most wonderful nation in this world. A nation of miracles and jewels, a nation with so much potential. There isn't a day that goes by when I don't think how lucky I am to bleed green and I would want the same in all the next lives if there are any.

I am blessed that I get to travel places, meet people, explore and learn so much because of that. Like Ibn-e-batuta did, haha if only I could do something like he did in his life. 

Lastly, but most importantly.

I am blessed to be alive today, to be able to breathe, to enjoy life, to live life at fullest, to be able to get good education, for that fact that Almighty has been kind to me and lastly, blessed for what and where I am today. There is a long road ahead, but for now I would never want to change that for anything.



Castles of Scotland

Balmoral Castle

Balmoral Castle
Balmoral Castle is a large estate house in Royal Deeside, Aberdeenshire, Scotland. It is located near the village of Crathie, 6.2 miles west of Ballater and 6.8 miles east of Braemar.

 Dalkeith Palace

Dalkeith Palace
Dalkeith Palace in Dalkeith, Midlothian, Scotland, is a historic house and the former seat of the Duke of Buccleuch. The present house was built in 1702 on the site of an earlier castle.

Tuesday, December 1, 2015

Experiencing the World Famous Maldon Mud Race

Maldon Mud Race

Written By: Caroline Picking

The rhinoceros stood majestically on the muddy riverbank, his gaze sweeping across the flatlands spread out beyond. He sighed glumly and nudged the fairy beside him, who was busily adjusting his tutu. Both squinted through horizontal grey rods of rain. “Trouble is,” muttered the fairy, brushing raindrops from his beard, “the river’s swollen. It’ll play havoc with the monks’ cassocks — they’ll go down like bricks.”

For the first time, Essex’s Maldon Mud Race would be run along the riverbank rather than across the river, due to the dire weather. Organisers hurried between serried ranks of goblins, Santas, assorted livestock, clergy, Beefeaters and superheroes, reiterating the new course. It was little comfort to the shivering, bikini-clad Viking trying to gain a shred of warmth from her furry, horned headdress.

Along the promenade, a giant statue commemorating a thorn in the side of the last lot of Vikings to wade up the muddy banks glared down at the proceedings. Once, this place was the site of an infamous battle between the Nordic invaders and the valiant Brithnoth, commemorated in the poem The Battle of Maldon. Now, the silent bronze behemoth of a man stands guard at the River Blackwater’s entrance, staring belligerently towards two islands, Osea and Northey, where many lost their lives in 991.

Nowadays, visitors prepared to dash across the muddy causeways at low tide can explore the pristine bird-watchers’ paradise without fear of encountering the wrong end of a poisoned spear. Essex Man is more welcoming nowadays: pubs huddled along Maldon’s harbour spilled cheery beer-drinkers onto the narrow pavements to encourage bedraggled race participants struggling to beat the cold, thick mud.

Several Thames barges provided an iconic backdrop for photographers, framed against a picturesque church that clung to the hill above the exhausted, mud-splattered contestants nearing the end of their peculiarly British ordeal. A Japanese game show host trotted triumphantly past, flicking mud from his bandana, followed by squealing ranks of assistants who seemed flummoxed by the mingling of such barmy madness in this serenely traditional setting.

On the quayside, the fairy grimaced as he slipped off his sparkly wings, grabbed a beer towel and tried to rub off the slime squelching from his Doc Martens. “Next year,” he told a unicorn confidently, “I’ll start quicker so I don’t end up on the churned-up mud behind the leaders.” The unicorn nodded encouragingly. “It’ll be easier in our mankinis,” he replied sagely.

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