"Mama. I did it." The words were still hanging in midair and the triumph was already emerging down her cheeks. Tears of happiness. There stood her daughter: eyes twinkling, chortling like anything. All the trepidation had evaporated. She feverishly stepped forward and embraced her daughter hard. Both of them were crying with happiness. Both of them were proud of each other. Both the mother and the daughter were the kings of the world.
He had always wanted a daughter. A daughter he would raise like a queen, not just as a princess. Only he knew how difficult those hours were. White walls surrounding him, her wife screaming with pain, the time was just crawling. Last time he saw the time he could have severed he had counted infinity. Then the door finally opened. She looked like a doll. A feeble creature. Her dark pink lips were carefully craved into perfection. The closed eyelids were tinted with a faint pink color, the color sometimes the sky turned into the evenings. Those rosy cheeks and the cute little nose; she was nothing but a dream. This novelty was a blessing.
But you see, even they got played by fate.
One night, the three of them laid in the bed. She kept on shaking him. He just wouldn't move. The little one thought his Baba was playing the little game. Pretending to be asleep, so that when he would open his eyes all of a sudden, her giggles would resonate his ears. "Baba?" He never replied. Leaving his wife and 13 months old daughter, he just departed from the world. Just like that.
"I want her to become a doctor." He would tell his wife frequently. "She is a little too small for that, sweetheart. Maybe she has other plans. Let her grow up?" She replied. "I know. And I would like to see what does she come up with. Just don't ever make her stop. Let her fly high." "Why would I stop her? Besides you are there to guide her." "We can never rely on fate, love." The conversation still made her heart cry.
16 years ago, when her daughter came up to her one night, she could see his reflection in her eyes. She laid her head in her mother's lap. Gently stroking her hair, silent tears were cascading down her cheeks. "Mama, I will work hard. I will study night and day and I will fulfill Baba's wish. I will become a doctor." A sudden realization dawned upon her. "Sara, I never told you that. How do you know your father's wish?" "Mama, I have had more doctor sets than teddy bears all my childhood. How wouldn't I not know?" She laughed a little, staring at her beautiful face, she couldn't help but think, their daughter was truly a priceless gift.
She had sold all her gold. She wanted nothing but her husband's wish to be fulfilled. For their love for their daughter was eternal. If he had been here, he too would have encouraged her to do all she could to help their queen shine bright. She was their happiness. Their strength. They made her out of love, their responsibility.

She stared and that degree. Wondering how happy her husband would have been. She could not even imagine. Beaming and staring up high, with her daughter wrapped in her arms, she whispered, "We did it love."


Breathe - No Sin Is Bigger Than His Mercy

The sun rose like a king, relishing on his throne. The cool breeze blew away my worries. It was like I was just gifted my eyesight back. As if the invisible clenched hands just given up on suffocating me in those deadly chambers. I was free. I could breath. The redemption was finally made. 

25 years in prison had taught me a life time lesson. But this freedom had taught me something entirely new. We humans are prone to mistakes. Some of us commit bigger mistakes, bigger sins and some of us are merely suffering of our petty deeds. But in the end, no sin is bigger than His mercy. You just need to call Him out. Rest is all assured.


A Forgotten Liability

“Assalam-o-Alaikum! Pakistan Broadcasting Service. Hum Lahore se bol rahe hain. Teraan aur chaudaa August sunn saintalees ki darmiani raat, bara baje hain, tuloo-e-subhe Azadi!”

Mustafa Hamdani announced the foundation of our very own Pakistan being laid back on August'14th 1947, 27th of Ramadan.

Pakistan, our motherland was the dream of many of our prominent national heroes. A dreamland of solace and happiness. To relive that memory Independence Day is celebrated annually.


Its Living That Scares Me To Death

The thought of survival in such a victimized planet sounds insane lately.

I call it insane not because we are continuously under the threat of death. Who knows, maybe a natural cause would make me leave you guys today, or maybe a gunshot is likely in this era of terror? But does it scare me? Is this enough to make me run away from dying? Nah.

Dying is easy. Its living. It is living that scares me to death.



She uncoupled herself from her imagination and dragged herself wearily back into the real world. Her hard work did not collapse this time. She was happy. She had finally uncovered the vast hidden area within herself. She no longer was a shame for herself. She had reborn. For a second, they both stood motionless, each reading the dawning realization in the other's eyes. That is when he curled his fingers around her. The new her was ready to face the world. The rumors that once defined her were nothing but a nightmare. And it was over. The change had worked. And she was ready to conquer the world with him.


Autumn Breeze

The soft breeze was swinging her hair. The beautiful eyes stared right into mine. How could someone be so breathtaking? Her lips had this delicate shape of a half crescent moon. The redness of her cheek gave me sweet chills. The slight shiver of her body made my heart go feeble. I was surely falling for her. I was walking into a mythical world of my own. A world where she belonged to me. In this fragment of moment everything was perfect. Just me and her and the light autumn breeze.


Destruction – A Feeling

Time had stood still. Or maybe it was ticking by. He was standing the same spot for what looked like centuries. The beautiful canvas of his family had shattered into bits. His flesh was staring right into his streaming eyes. His lips moving. Moving but producing no voice. Mute. It took several heartbeats for him to understand that his voice was coming from a remote land. A place he dreaded. What was happening? Was this man really his son? What was this dilemma that has posed by? The comprehension came too fast for him to comprehend. Everything had backfired.


O! What A Wrenched Enemy Who Dares But Fight The Children

Time stood still for several heartbeats. TV screens were flashing the same trend of casualties; it was not crossing 50. But why were the families of our APSAC still anxious? Why there were was those repetitive footage of morning being played in the afternoon? Why was the media quite? What was this mute misery about?


With Love, From Syria

To The World, I hope this letter reaches you in the best of your health. As I am on my last legs, not sure whether you even remember or not but it just crossed my mind that maybe I owe you an apology. I know you are pretty furious at me, I am sorry for the unknown. We were friends earlier, but I don’t know what just happened in a blink of an eye. I don’t know what happened that you starting attacking and bombing parts of me. No, I am not complaining. Not complaining at all. I am just sharing; sharing the ghastly feelings inside me. I am down and out, pal. I am being wiped and smashed daily, every second of every moment. I feel so wrenched and demoralized. I just wish the ground would swallow me up. It hurts. Every inch of me hurts. It is like I am being wounded on the same spot, my heart. At least I deserve a break, no? I was peeking at one on my organs the other day, and you know what? I look so terrible. The paint was peeling off. I was all black. I was grim with dirt. And I had this weird smell of neglect-tion. I really need a shower I guess.


Remain Silent Or Should We Protest?

It takes a fraction of second for the human brain to taste a scenario but it may take some extensive moments to react; to grind the problem and to digest the effect. When implications come too fast to comprehend majority of the people prefer to use the invisible weapon of silence against an abject dilemma. But sometimes that weapon fails to earn the title of victory or else pacify the jeopardy. Then one needs to do something. Placing evasiveness aside, showing adversity.