Taliban Negotiates!

*after a telephone call*

In the hullabaloo of an undecided condition, one of them with a short beard suggested some notable points, rest of the committee members penned them, but the panic never discharged.

The following day none of them slept for once. A shiver of agitation and worry grasped their heads. One of them was so thrilled that he pissed in his pants and couldn’t even manage to wash it and remained on the wet bed whole night.

On the other hand a deep sleep and dreams of white virgins dressed in bikinis gathered four of the six long bearded men positioned next to each other in a single bed.

There was a portrait hanging marked “Father Zia” on the front wall of the room. Two of those six were standing attentively on either sides of the photo with loaded AK-47 in hands.  

In the melodious voice of Lata, “Jago Mohan Pyare Jago” played as an alarm tone in one of those five committee members, that woke their souls up and a new wave of terror encircled them. Meanwhile their sense of olfaction realized the odor of urine hoisting up from one of their team member’s bed.

The morning commence on the other side with the crowing of a golden brown rooster that ended with a gunshot in the head from one of those security guards. Rest of the sleeping members woke up by the sound of that gunshot. Five of them gathered around the same portrait, lit up few agarbati and hung a garland with hands folded to pray and eyes shut. Where one of them was in the washroom taking a bath realizing his shalwar all wet after the pleasant dreams of the past night, but he made his way up till the routinely prayers ended.

After cleaning and preparing mentally and physically all the five committee members fixed in two prados left the lodges, where in the middle of their way, one of the member realized he didn’t refill his ink pen and forgot to put some extra pages, if the opponent team made prolonged points. All cursed him.

On the other side, one of them repaints the marks of prostration on the foreheads with a black skin-friendly poster color, and combed the beards, applied kajal in the eyes and polished the likeable peshawari chappals.

After getting ready they set on their name plated seats in a black and a gray pajero and moved.

Mehsood 2. Maqsood 3. Maqrooz 4. Mafroor 5. Namrood 6. Mardood.

In the midst of the mountains, with an elongated path made for cars to move just by cutting the nearby trees there was a three walled room, with a table of which the top was missing set in the middle and few concrete bricks arranged by the wall.

All the suited committee members scrutinized the room and pondered the bricks to be the seats and get their asses fixed, in the meantime their hearts milled by the gunshots from somewhere near the debris.

It was an entry stunt by the six of those pajero men. Mardood parked the gray pajero next to the conference room, where drive the other one and took his place on the top of one of the mountains to watch the movements in the room.

Eventually five of them entered the room in a way they show the gang mates enter in a Bollywood movie (read: shootout at lokhandwala). The opponents - the committee members were already in a chaos after the gunshots and were all standing by the open side of the room. They entered the room, greeted and one of them hung the same picture on the wall facing the committee members that they were protecting the last night. They bewilder looked into each others eyes, but couldn’t utter a word. Mehsood asked them to be seated on the bricks arranged where he and his teammates kept on standing and examining them.

With another gunshot the negotiations with Taliban begins.

Maqsood initiated with a point of not educating the girls and allowing them to work in a male oriented society. He also admitted the attacks on all the girls till date were made under his surveillance. He described it in a way that after getting enough education they become hard to handle by men and keep on ranting about feminism and their rights. He told the members that his own mother was an educated woman and his father failed to control her, where she proclaimed herself as the house president and then they never succeeded in any decision. She even wanted a doctor bahoo, but his girlfriend didn’t like to study after her matric and due to that his mother never saw his shadi wale hath. In the same view, he was against educating women. 

With the end of Maqsood’s point everyone was crying and given a tissue paper to lighten the environment. Even “Father Zia” in the portrait blew his nose after sobbing bitterly.

Mafroor started with his point to have their own courts, so that none of them will ever face biased punishments. He acknowledged the escapade from the jails of the country of his companions because they were being missed in the gunshot practice sessions and in the late night basement parties. He also shared his childhood punishment when he was held guilty and been scolded for shoplifting a couple of candy bars by his father, where in real his elder brother did that and blamed him, but his father never listen to his explanation that ablaze his need of judiciary in hands. They note the second point.

Maqrooz interrupted this with a memoir he never forgets in accordance to a point he made of not going to Imam Bargahs and Shrines. He had a couple of friends in his area that attended majalis in Imambargahs and went to shrines, but his father never permitted him. He further stated that once in a blue moon when he made his way to these places, he was always overlooked by the person distributing sheermal or gulab jamun, since then he hated the crowd at these places and eager to see fewer crowds so that he’ll get all the eatables. He admitted the attacks been made to these places till date to diminish his childhood craving.

Mehsood stated his simple argument of covering women with a shuttlecock veil and proper men clothing because his father always dreamt of a clothing factory which is now being set up by him and he is keen to cover everyone aptly to fix his factory’s sales graph in a way it indicates just profit. His father will be happy in the paradise ONLY then.

Namrood declared his problem of being the irresponsible child of the entire family that he was always being scolded for, since then he ought to change this status in common. He is the one behind all the announcements made by their organization after every blast and held themselves responsible to change the status. He showed his interest in being the head of the state so that he’ll prove himself more accountable.

After jotting down all the points the five men made, negotiations came to an end with another gunshot. The committee members asked them to respond the demands soon and they didn’t talk a word more. Taliban set in their pajero and left the scene that bring back life to the committee members, after revising the points all of them burst into laughter.

BUT

Mardood who was monitoring them, blew their asses up with the bullets he fired subsequently.

A committee was made for negotiations with Taliban.

The phone rings again..  

Reassure Sirat-e-Mustaqeem

When you have to try a new dish, you’ll go for the best ingredients or the most excellent restaurant. When you want a new dress, you’ll research for the finest print, texture, shop and the tailor or simply when you have to start your academic process, you’ll pick the best institute for the same. But when it comes on following a religion, you’ll go blind and stick to the same your family is adherent of. Whether right or wrong without questioning the wrong you judge even being ashraf’ul makhlooq.

Or have We given them a book before the Quran to which they are adhering? Rather, they say, "Indeed, we found our fathers upon a religion, and we are in their footsteps [rightly] guided. And similarly, We did not send before you any warner into a city except that its affluent said, "Indeed, we found our fathers upon a religion, and we are, in their footsteps, following." [Each warner] said, "Even if I brought you better guidance than that [religion] upon which you found your fathers?" They said, "Indeed we, in that with which you were sent, are disbelievers." So we took retribution from them; then see how was the end of the deniers. 43:21-25

We are facing a recent tide of sectarianism around us. This is not about proving yourself right and the other person wrong, but to reassure your beliefs and way of life. Because it is more imperative than anything, everything you are gifted from your forefathers is not entirely correct. In the same regard, we are blessed with a great number of muhaqiq, moa’lif and musanif. And the treasure of inked pages spiraled in a form of dozens of books are surely not to decorate your shelves with, but to read and understand and follow the right path. 

[We sent them] with clear proofs and written ordinances. And We revealed to you the message that you may make clear to the people what was sent down to them and that they might give thought. 16:44

As the time of the reoccurrence of Mehdi is approaching, all of the predictions are turning real. Current situation of Syria is one of them. One of the significant predictions is of persecution, barbarity, injustice and atrocity which is havocking rapidly. But we have to consider the soul reason and the ground realities after all this with open heart and mind. Being biased in these situations are unfruitful. There will be war being fought against the oppressors by Mehdi accompanied by Eesa (Jesus). What is important here is to mull over the death toll mentioned in the history books in that battle with a bit of its scenario; the people against, the companions and the battlefields. This is a real serious issue, if one read the books.

And they say, "None will enter Paradise except one who is a Jew or a Christian." That is [merely] their wishful thinking, Say, "Produce your proof, if you should be truthful." 2:111

Jamiya Al-Azhar or Hauza Ilmiya Qoum or Najaf, the material they are distributing does need a watchful eye of those believers who are neutral and endorse what is right and wrong. Each and every thing is not acceptable when it comes on following or generating your beliefs and if they are going to directly affects your way of life.

Then is one who was a believer like one who was defiantly disobedient? They are not equal. 32:18

Rolling to the current system of governments in the world, including all the Islamic and non-Islamic countries needs a little heed and their relation with the history provides nothing but immorality and depravity. From the times of Muhammad ibne Qasim, Bani Abbas, Bani Ummaiya or Hazrat Sheikhain. We have to recheck our literature and history, by comparing it from both the hands. Reread the books and validate the actual memoirs being unbiased. There is a dependable legitimacy exists that will leave you stunned, if you research.

She said, "Indeed kings - when they enter a city, they ruin it and render the honored of its people humbled. And thus do they do.” 27:34

From the incarceration of the infallibles like Taqi Al-Jawwad, Ali Reza or Musa Al-Kazim, where the ruling section of Harun Rashid, Mamun Rashid or Al-Mutasim leaves a huge number of traces from the unfolded [read: unfolded or hidden] reality of the past that will link every incident that occurred, but with the consent of Allah, to eradicate the darkness and educate us.

And [remember, O Muhammad], when those who disbelieved plotted against you to restrain you or kill you or evict you. But they plan, and Allah plans. And Allah is the best of planners. 8:30

Say, "Are there of your 'partners' any who guides to the truth?" Say, "Allah guides to the truth. So is He who guides to the truth more worthy to be followed or he who guides not unless he is guided? Then what is [wrong] with you - how do you judge?" 10:35

The point is not to give a conclusion of truth and dishonesty, but to provoke the need of reassurance of the faith and the teachings spreading around the town blindly.

Most of the events of past are not jovial, that doesn't mean you stop telling them to the learners or ban the light of truth coming from anywhere scattering the reality. Researching yourself is of great importance right now, because there’s a number of false and made-up incidents and events that are helping the evil hands. Fiqh, Usool or Tareeq everything has come under the light of it.

From Saha-e Sittah to Bahar-ul Anwar, it can be Abuhanifa, Shafai, Maliki, Ahmed ibne Hanbil or Al-Jafar Sadiq, reassurance is needed. The quotations copied and printed by Abuhuraira Dosi, Abdullah ibne Umar or Sulaim ibne Qais Hilali, Abaan ibne Ayaash. They need to be revised by the researching youngsters being unbiased. 

[He is] Knower of the unseen, and He does not disclose His [knowledge of the] unseen to anyone. Except whom He has approved of messengers, and indeed, He sends before each messenger and behind him observers 72:26-27

There was certainly in their stories a lesson for those of understanding. Never was the Quran a narration invented, but a confirmation of what was before it and a detailed explanation of all things and guidance and mercy for a people who believe. 12:111

Rather, We have brought them the truth, and indeed they are liars. 23:90

Khalid ibne Waleed, Zubair Al Awaam or Talha ibne Ubaidullah needs to be revised, their characters and personality needs some heed. There are many personalities mentioned in our books that are altered after their death or by themselves. They relates themselves with Sahaba and Prophet saww, but are often cautioned. 

But when the truth came to them, they said, "This is magic, and indeed we are, concerning it, disbelievers." And they said, "Why was this Quran not sent down upon a great man from [one of] the two cities?" 43:30-31

The topic is going towards the era which is the base and the initial of Islam. The heat is rising. The post is completely unbiased and is only interpreting what has been said in the books of both the great sects.

The politics and the policies were quite similar back then, and were as brain teasing as now. One can get the answers of all the unsolved mysteries in head by reading the books and asking the scholars, but of both the sides. Similarly, many of us are still confused on the policies used by Mukhtar Saqafi and later by Ibrahim ibne Malik Ashtar against the wrongdoers of Karbala; Yazeed, Abdullah ibne Ziyaad, Umer ibne Saad bin Abi Waqas or the ruling personalities like Abdullah ibne Zubair, Muasib ibne Zubair or Abdul Malik ibne Marwan or Marwan bin Hukm.

And if two factions among the believers should fight, then make settlement between the two. But if one of them oppresses the other, then fight against the one that oppresses until it returns to the ordinance of Allah. And if it returns, then make settlement between them in justice and act justly. Indeed, Allah loves those who act justly. 49:9

The battle of Sif'feen, or Jamal still puzzles the followers because of not being told justly by the scholars. There were larger numbers of orders subjugated that time. But explaining them unbiased is a difficult task because there is always a right and a wrong and the personalities involved in these battles will upheaval and will mortify the beliefs. You should better research for the true realities yourself than by listening to the things by others.

Allah presents an example of those who disbelieved: the wife of Noah and the wife of Loot. They were under two of Our righteous servants but betrayed them, so those prophets did not avail them from Allah at all, and it was said, "Enter the Fire with those who enter." 66:10 

O wives of the Prophet, whoever of you should commit a clear immorality - for her the punishment would be doubled two fold, and ever is that, for Allah, easy. 33:30

Muawiya ibne Abu Sufiyan’s peace treaty with Hasan ibne Ali and getting the throne and the after course literature that spreads needs to be reviewed by everyone and obligating the act of cursing on Ali ibne Abutalib from the mosques for eighty years is not behind any curtain. Books on the same are also widely available on both the sides, but keeping your eyes shut will not change the reality. Abul Aaala Modudi led a greater hand in this course.  

And [there are] those [hypocrites] who took for themselves a mosque for causing harm and disbelief and division among the believers and as a station for whoever had warred against Allah and His Messenger before. And they will surely swear, "We intended only the best." And Allah testifies that indeed they are liars. 9:107

And most of them follow not except assumption. Indeed, assumption avails not against the truth at all. Indeed, Allah is Knowing of what they do. 10:36

Indeed, We have revealed to you, the Book in truth so you may judge between the people by that which Allah has shown you. And do not be for the deceitful an advocate. 4:105

The soulful reason of injustice and atrocity in the initial 30 years is yet explained by the doers themselves at various events and are as quoted as legitimately, but only for those who seek guidance and research being unbiased.

And those who strive for Us - We will surely guide them to Our ways. And indeed, Allah is with the doers of good. 29:69

The people involved in the murder of Usman ibne Affan were revealed afterwards by the doers and their companions solely – privately or openly, and are still mentioned in the research books. Still the light of darkness have conquered everyone needs some concentration to rectify the deeds we are mistakenly following.

O you, who have believed, fear Allah and speak words of appropriate justice. He will [then] amend for you your deeds and forgive you your sins. And whoever obeys Allah and His Messenger has certainly attained a great attainment. 33:70-71

The revelation of the unknowingness to the fiqh or some of the major orders by Prophet saww was made by Umar ibne Khattab himself and is quoted in major history books with the ijtehad, Sheikhain used that time are also popular. Where the battles fought in that era and the indefensible attitude is not hidden plus their quotes are yet conserved.

O you, who have believed, when you rise to [perform] prayer, wash your faces and your forearms to the elbows and wipe over your heads and wash your feet to the ankles. And if you are in a state of janabah, then purify yourselves. But if you are ill or on a journey or one of you comes from the place of relieving himself or you have contacted women and do not find water, then seek clean earth and wipe over your faces and hands with it. Allah does not intend to make difficulty for you, but He intends to purify you and complete His favor upon you that you may be grateful. 5:6

And whoever turns his back to them on such a day, unless swerving  for war or joining [another] company, has certainly returned with anger [upon him] from Allah,, and his refuge is Hell - and wretched is the destination. 8:16

The committee set by Umar ibne Khattab to choose the next caliph after him and the authority given to Abdul Rehman bin Auf needs to be revised for the confirmation of the regulations they put and the next caliph was chosen because we see the last four years of the period of Khulafa-e-Rashideen was indeed different from the others. Plus adding the name of Ali ibne Abutalib in the same series was made by Ahmed ibne Hanbil after a long time.

Indeed, Allah chose Adam and Noah and the family of Abraham and the family of 'Imran over the worlds – 3:33

Then we caused to inherit the Book those We have chosen of Our servants; and among them is he who wrongs himself, and among them is he who is moderate, and among them is he who is foremost in good deeds by permission of Allah. That [inheritance] is what is the great bounty. 35: 32

Not mentioning the rest of the incidents history marks because of their popularity more in one of the sect than the other will make this post biased, but Quran marks their significance number of times. Ayah’Tatheer enlightens the importance of the Ahle’bait of Prophet saww.

 Allah intends only to remove from you the impurity [of sin], O people of the [Prophet's] household, and to purify you with [extensive] purification. 33:33 [Ayah-e Tatheer]

And We made them leaders guiding by Our command. And We inspired to them the doing of good deeds, establishment of prayer, and giving of zakah; and they were worshippers of Us. 21:73

 A prominent hadees marking the importance of education in our religion regardless of the personality mentioned.

"Anna Madina tul Ilm, Wa Ali un Baab’oha"

And enter houses from their doors. And fear Allah that you may succeed. 2:189

Where Prophet saww was cautioned several times of the hypocrites present in that era clearly in Quran. These people really harmed the generosity and authenticity of various incidents and literature we found lately.

And among those around you of the Bedouins are hypocrites, and [also] from the people of Madinah. They have become accustomed to hypocrisy. You, [O Muhammad], do not know them, [but] We know them. We will punish them twice [in this world]; then they will be returned to a great punishment. 9:101

The heart throbbing incidents of Saqeefa, overlooking the event of Ghadeer Khum, announcing personal opinions on death bed of Prophet saww, and the heart trenching incident remembered by Fatema binte Muhammad saw reciting the marsiya;

“Subbat Illaiya Masaib’un..”

Do you not consider, [O Muhammad], those who were given a portion of the Scripture? They are invited to the Scripture of Allah that it should arbitrate between them; then a party of them turns away, and they are refusing. 3:23

The above mentioned incidents are a part of our Islamic history that is printed in the books of both the superior sects but needs a serious consideration without the differentiation of the transcripts provided in terms of comparative sect but to find the right path, either by Muhammad Tejani Samawi or Dr. Abu Moosa Mossavi.

So judge between them by what Allah has revealed and do not follow their inclinations away from what has come to you of the truth. 5:48

Not equal are the companions of the Fire and the companions of Paradise. The companions of Paradise - they are the attainers [of success]. 59:20

Since the time is real crucial right now and the humanity is surviving serious conflicts from the oppressors.

Allah does not charge a soul except [with that within] its capacity 2:286

But seeking the right path is essential for all to discriminate you from the group of those who are taught the literature only of their choice and single sided. They have been trained in a way from their birth that their hearts are now dead and fear from the time when you are going to be one of them. 

Indeed, Allah will not change the condition of a people until they change what is in themselves. 13:11

They are the ones whose deeds have become worthless in this world and the Hereafter, and for them there will be no helpers. 3:22

For indeed, it is not eyes that are blinded, but blinded are the hearts which are within the breasts. 22:46

Allah has promised to fill the earth with peace and justice, but after examining them from the last savior Mehdi, start researching of your path from the end which is near and succeeds to the past events and they surely are interconnected and will guide you through the right. Consider Quran, Ahadees, and the research books with authenticate writers. Give your time to this because this is important than anything.

And We sent not before you except men to whom We revealed [Our message]. So ask the people of the message if you do not know. 16: 43

They want to extinguish the light of Allah with their mouths, but Allah will perfect His light, although the disbelievers dislike it. 61:8

And whatever the Messenger has given you - take; and what he has forbidden you - refrain from. And fear Allah; indeed, Allah is severe in penalty. 59:7

But as for those who defiantly disobeyed, their refuge is the Fire. Every time they wish to emerge from it, they will be returned to it while it is said to them, "Taste the punishment of the Fire which you used to deny." 32:20

And the Day the wrongdoer will bite on his hands [in regret] he will say, "Oh, I wish I had taken with the Messenger a way. 25:27

[It will be said], "You were certainly in unmindfulness of this, and We have removed from you your cover, so your sight, this Day, is sharp." 50:22

Indeed Allah will bless those who research and follow the right path, and will punish the evil and wrongdoers. Despite of the prediction made by Prophet saww about 73 sects in Islam, will definitely turns out to be real, but there is a sect going in paradise. Go and revise your theories and reread the scripts with an unbiased mind and proper authentication and validation from everywhere.

I am not except a warner and a bringer of good tidings to a people who believe. 7:188

And strive for Allah with the striving due to Him. He has chosen you and has not placed upon you in the religion any difficulty. He is your protector; and excellent is the protector, and excellent is the helper. 22:78

If you could but see when the criminals are hanging their heads before their Lord, [saying], "Our Lord, we have seen and heard so return us [to the world]; we will work righteousness. Indeed, we are [now] certain." 32:12

But indeed, I am the Perpetual Forgiver of whoever repents and believes and does righteousness and then continues in guidance 20: 82

As for those who believed and did righteous deeds, for them will be the Gardens of Refuge as accommodation for what they used to do. 32:19

O you who have believed, obey Allah and obey the Messenger and those in authority among you. And if you disagree over anything, refer it to Allah and the Messenger, if you should believe in Allah and the Last Day. That is the best [way] and best in result. 4:59

Epitome of the whole article in a two liner by Ustad Sibt-e Jaffar Zaidi Shaheed;

Naffi ghair ki hai muhobbat ka hissa,

Na samjhay isay koi nafrat ki batain.

When it stopped..

Brakes screeching down the road and the vehicles collapsing, my body bumped into the footpath with constant bones smashing whilst I slid among the cars and bikes on the road. I heard different voices, people started gathering around me and I was looking at them motionless. I tried to keep my eyes wide open, but even my eyelashes were aching. A beggar aged no more than ten was sitting next to me and cleaning the blood on my forehead with his dirty shirt.

I thought of the time I overheard pleads of begging while driving my car or mostly playing pranks on them with my friends. Yelling or bellowing them abusively on signals or in the parking lots of the lavished shopping malls or restaurants.

I heard someone was calling the ambulance where I started to unfold myself, but failed several times. Hot red blood was now dripping from my wounds as the kid was nowhere around. I tried to shout, but failed. In a while I heard of an ambulance siren and people making way for the stretcher.

I thought of the time I always overridden ambulances and overheard the siren of while driving recklessly not providing space and risking lives of god knows how many.

I was now in the ambulance and it was heading towards the hospital. The nurse was now cleaning my wounds and applying antiseptic creams.

I thought of the time when I shuddered over the caring and sympathetic behavior of my family and my overgrown anger when my mom tried to care for me, by any means.

I started feeling myself. The nurse rubbed and pressed my wound and I grasped the rod of my stretcher more tightly. The blood was now again dripping and I heard of him talking to the driver to speed up as I am not in a good situation. My wounds have already shed a lot of blood and I’ll be going in a critical condition.

I thought of the moments when I hurt others. My family. My friends. And everyone who relates to me. Now! I started to begin getting worried of not returning to my normal life. A carefree life I was passing with no tensions and worries, where I was the captain of my fate, but now I wasn't sure of a safe return. My heart clenched. I wanted everyone back. I never thought of going like this.

The ambulance stopped and I was shifted to my room. I tried to bring my words to my mouth, but I failed again. I tried to grab my cell phone, but every part of my body was aching. The anesthesia, the nurse applied is now getting weak. I was shifted to the ICU.

I thought of the time when I always hated being in a hospital, when I joked around at the funerals, when I never thought of being in a condition I was now surrounded with, when I took my life easier than anything, when I played around the unwell people. I really wanted to talk to my family, my friends, wanted to confess every misdeed I do, but there’s no way clear.

It happened and I was given a period of a week. I was unconscious for a whole three days. Now, mom is sitting next to me and praying. Dad is standing by the window and staring at the outer world. I tried to talk, but I blocked. I'm still not able to confess anything  I've never been this miserable in my life. I was enjoying my life, but this has to happen. All of a sudden, my siblings and my cousins entered in my room. They were saying something to me, but I was unable to listen. I watched them with an unblinking stare. I tried to smile, but my face muscles didn't allow me. I stared on the wall where a painting was stringed up with some Arabic written and I was unable to read.

I thought of the time I disregard the calling of my mom for prayers, she tried her best to teach me the ways how to pray, but I never pay heed to it. I used to read Quran, but now I can't even read a single line. I thought of the moments when I was asked to turn off my laptop or my music player and I ignored the times of prayers. When I never lowered my volume on the sign of “no music” passing by the Mosques, and this time, now, I need this most. I wanted to pray. I wanted to plead God for my forgiveness. When I wanted to confess my faults and misdeeds, but the time has passed.

There was a day left in my deadline, but nothing has changed. I was lying motionless with only a sound of electrocardiogram in my room and a tube of ventilator attached to me. I was numb and trying to pray to God as I was able to. My family was not around. They were not allowed inside. A nurse was resting near my bed and there was no movement rest than her fingers changing the pages of a book, she was reading, I was unable to read the title.

All of a sudden, I saw doctor entering my room, and there I caught a glimpse of my dad trying to get inside, but was pushed back by the ward boy. I tried to get off my bed and shove that ward boy’s head off his body, but I failed. In this hurry I heard of the ventilator’s sound go straight. I felt my heart contracting, my eyes rolled down. I couldn’t hear what they were talking, but there was something terribly wrong. I tried to get off my bed, but again a failure. The doctor was pushing my chest now. He was trying to make my heart pump, but it was not working. There was nothing I was able to hear, but only a soul-shaking constant sound of a beep coming from the ECG indicating my heartbeat steady and my heart not pumping pushing me towards the eternal peaceful destination. I was not ready for this, but I really wanted to talk to my family and friends, or just to get a glimpse. The doctor again pushed my chest hardly. A tear of misery, desolation, agony, despair, grief, misfortune an immorality rolled down my eye and rested on my cheek until the doctor pressed my chest again and it dripped off my cheek too. I felt a sudden shock when the doctor pressed my chest with an electric shock pad. I jolted. He again pressed it on my chest. I hoped again and heard a moving beep on the ECG. I heard the doctor said “Shukar Allah (Thank God).”

Sinf-e-Nazuk.

With an endless dripping of raindrops over her decrepit latten roof, she tossed her bed sheet aside and rolled up herself, with back on the unplastered wall she set her eyes on the wrecked condition of the roof and an opening from which the rainwater was dripping in a blue bucket, maybe mom placed that when it started raining, she thought.  She checked her wall clock, half an hour for morning prayers. She stood up and went to the basin, washed her face and fixed her hair. Rain was almost over and mom was awaked by then. After prayers, she went to iron her clothes, where mom’s whining began emphasizing on the destructions the-unseasoned-sudden-rain brought last night. She asked her to fix all up in the coming month. With the daily morning tits and bits she prepared her mind to fight with the same world, hung her bag on the shoulder, covered her head and unchained the front iron gate. With her eyes lowered she started walking, she couldn't keep herself in the stride when a hasty guy escorted. She jammed her hands and coiled her body. Leaving the entire street, she started walking with the wall. The guy was still there; spotted blue jeans, red stained shirt with two front buttons open, heavy hair on chest and unshaven dirty face constantly chewing a toothpick. She paid no heed to the comments he passed and moved to the main road; he turned to the adjacent street. She looked up and breathe relieved. Standing on the bus stop with two other women in burqa she felt uncomfortable again when a man in his late forties approached and take a seat nearer. He kept on staring at her; a round-faced with messy hair, wearing grimy light blue colored kurta shalwar and barefoot. She distant herself on the footpath, but couldn't get more than the constant stares of the passer by’s. Yet there was drenched water on the roads and that’s why the bus was taking more time than the usual. She felt at ease when her bus came at sight. She gets off the footpath and hurried to get in the bus. With the usual hustle and bustle, she climbed to the footpad of the bus. With the seats all full, she waited for her turn to sit. Meanwhile, number of men passengers and the conductor kept on stepping by the women section patting her body parts intentionally or by chance. She cupped her existence the best she was able to do, but failed at times. Today was not her day. None of the seats go vacant and she traveled all the way gripping the iron pipe with her soft palms. Descending from the bus she started moving to her garment factory where she was working for past three years. After all the day-doings and minutes before the off time, she went to the manager’s room to ask him for her salary in advance. A man in his fifties, gray hair and light shaved, white shirt and blue tie, working on his desktop PC, she knocked and get inside. After a fifteen minute chat, he consents to pay her in advance, but asked her to do overtime tonight. She hesitated and put her excuse of an old aged mother waiting for her alone. She was conscious of the situation and the appalling intentions of the man she was dependent on, but she excused herself and left the room hastily. It started raining by then when she left the factory. With rolling tears down her cheek she kept on walking to the bus stop, meanwhile it started raining heavily damping all her dress. Due to the soggy texture of her kurta shalwar it got stick to her body. She was helping herself to get to the bus stop sooner as possible, but it was impossible with this amount of water gathering on road. All in a sudden a motorbike rapidly passed with two teenagers riding from which one of the boy patted her back with strength. She couldn't help herself then and ran to get an auto rickshaw. She ran into her room asking her mom to pay the auto rickshaw. She started whining about the increased fares and inflation, but paid eventually and went into the kitchen to prepare dinner.

With the echoes and woes one and all from the vicinity gathered and inquired about the tragedy. She replied “I was organizing dinner when she arrived from the factory and went inside, afterward I came to ask her for food, but what I saw was this. She was dangling by the opening on the roof with her. . . .”

Later, an A4 size paper was found beneath her bed. 

Rejoice?

Reasons to believe in Pakistan was posted a year ago with a hope of struggling against the bad and forwarding the positivism, but in a year nothing changed, even worsened, there’s nothing to write over a deteriorated state trying to celebrate its foundation day, but is unable to find a caretaker prime minister from past 7 days. Echoing of police mobiles, rapid march of ambulances, woes of grief and fear, burning homes, unresponsive eyes, creased foreheads, faded laugh lines, thunder of fire shots, miserable lives, fear-free ammunition display, hidden police officers, buried government is a sketch of a country laid on a dream of something that we've lost in decades and it seems there’s no way back. Along with the government, we all are equally responsible for what is happening and have to accept this bitter truth now.

A poem by Ahmed Faraz perfectly suits the situation;

I am a Hazara.

Perfect round face, a face like a Chinese doll chiseled from hardwood; pointed stub of a chin, flat, broad nose, tiny low-set ears, slanting, narrow eyes like bamboo leaves and thin lips. Nothing distinct. I was born sharing the same features in my race and the area I was living in.

Leaving the house, ma whispered some prayers and bid us farewell. I grasped Ali’s hand. My ten years old brother and we started walking to his school. It was at the other end of the main road. The broiling sun stringed up spreading rays over balmy Quetta. Everyone engaged in their daily chores. Jubilant and hyperactive kids clad in uniform scampering shop to shop for their desired candies where debilitated fathers were yelling behind and hoping after them helping with their bags and lunch boxes. We crossed the road and met with Raza, next-door neighbor and only son of a middle-aged couple, who was holding his college bag and straightening his tie, skillfully set on his creased white shirt waiting for the bus at the bus stop. We moved further, herd of office goers gathering around the roadside hotel and ordering for a cup of hot doodh-pati where some of them instructing for an extra layered paratha and a half-fried egg, a teenage boy dressed in a tee and shalwar noting the orders and forwarding them to the head chef. Ali wants to buy a box of color pencils for his drawing assignment, I stopped at Rahim’s shop. I meet with him till Ali picked on his favorite box. I mocked about his sky blue shirt perfectly set in his black pants. He giggled. We walked more. A green grocer wearing white shalwar kameez, gray hair and white beard, eyes encircled with wrinkles and a thin body, sitting on his chair with the road, reading the newspaper with spectacles resting on his nose, anyone can judge the genre of the news by the expressions he give. Every twenty minutes, he stood up, put his newspaper aside and water the vegetables and fruits on his barrow. It was his habit. We moved further. Ladies covered in shawl and veils striding to the nearby bus stop for their colleges. Some good-for-nothing aged men strolling by the shops to poke their nose or to talk about anything. Further we saw Abid uncle, who was swiftly walking to the same school we’re heading for, holding her five years old daughter Zaineb’s hand. I shouted, he stopped and asked me to drop Zaineb to the school and pick her up by the off time as he’s getting late for his office and Abida aunt, his wife is unwell. I agreed and seized Zaineb’s hand; she greeted us and begins narrating stories of her math class. We enjoyed all the way and later I handed Ali and Zaineb to the gate-keeper of the school.

On my way back I met with Khailda aunt, who was returning from grocery, but stopping every inch of minute because of the over-weighed basket. I offered her my services and collected some prayers, but maybe today was not my day. I returned from her house to the main market. 

I put my key in the lock and released the shutter with a shrilling noise. Turned on the lights and sat inside waiting for today’s fortune. Hours passed and it appeared to be a good day with a healthy business selling general household stuff. Rahim came and asked to look over his shop as he’s getting late for an interview. I assured him and diminished his stress. There’s a rush in the market like all other days and I thanked God for restoring peace in my area after a panicking period of horror and dreadfulness. Mic sat, and Muezzin started reciting Azaan. Rahim would have come by now, but he didn't show up. I lowered the shutters and went to offer prayers. Almost 02:30 noon and I was preparing to pick Zaineb and Ali from the school. Herd of laborers, employees and students returning from school and colleges started gathering around the roadside hotel for lunch, where the usual day-to-day dealings were still in progress. I moved for Ali’s school. I saw Khalida aunt again moving to another shop for some shopping. I smiled. She is a widow and a mother of four, usually found in market shopping for bare necessities. The gatekeeper handed me Ali and Zaineb and we started moving to our way home. At the bus stop I saw Rahim and Raza unloading, I stopped to hand over his keys. He catches my glimpse and started walking towards me. Within seconds I heard a deafening noise, felt sizzled metal balls getting within my body, ripping my skin. I felt some liquid in my hands and all of a sudden everything blackened. 

It was an enormous bomb blast that shudder the city and its residents. It was blood and dead bodies everywhere. Ali was resting on my chest with his eyes closed bleeding red liquid from his head. His color box was lying few inches away. A strap of Zaineb’s bag jammed between my right hand and her feet that were lying on the other side of the road. She was sleeping in the middle of the road. An aged man was resting near a barrow with his spectacles crushed under his body and white dress turned red. Rahim flew away and ripped apart and his sky blue shirt seems nowhere. Raza’s body was resting by the bus’ tyre, but a leg near Khalida aunt’s body and his other leg hanged in the electric wires. The teenage waiter of the roadside hotel was resting with his manager on the footpath near the hotel and the head chef torn apart and lying at various spots. In half an hour, ambulances, media, police; everyone gathered and put our dead bodies in the ambulance and shifted the injured to the nearby hospitals. 

I was distinct. Even we all were. We were Hazaras. Our features distinct us from others and made a way easier for our antagonists to notice and split us apart. Honor our wives as widows. Wrench our parents’ hearts. Reward our children being orphans. We were the most rewarded and notable Pakistanis by these blood drinking contenders. Even our PM and President always notices our presence and condemn the gifted brutal act. For a moment think of the family members who are going to suffer this grief now. 

A Zaleel Friend.

After all the evil grins and anger burning my soul into chunks, I clicked on the tab indicating a green circle notifying he’s online and with no safety measures, set in motion my word-gun. Again *reasoning reasoning reasoning*. Though boiled my blood, but again it was he. Muhammad Hassan bin Iqbal. Despite of all the tensions, clashes and disputes, I didn’t blow his ass farthest. Everything settles as soon as it starts between us, believe it or not, the actual brothers from another mother/ and father are we. He was introduced to me by a friend years ago (actually 2), but we try to heap in so far as 20 years. Keeping all the heated discussions aside we always gather the happy-go-lucky moments at the end of a day. Though IoBM proved to be another scar on his skin like a person he is aware of well enough. Sorry, ethically I can’t name him. To me at least. Once you start loving someone for who he is and the way he is, it took time to accept him as a new him eventually, but still I tried my best and here I’m keeping all his batamizees, nalaiqiyan, and carefree-ness aside writing his birthday post. I once told him how hard is it to write on someone you love more than anything and trying to select most suitable words to describe, but here I’m up to no good q k no words can describe the inner feelings and love at any cost. But still I tried and come up with this ajeeb si post, though I’m not itna bad writer. He is one of those introverts jo k buhat ghaday hotay hain. They are those masoom and seedhay loug who in their innocence ruins everything. Lekin khair, he is not that masoom aur shareef. Kameena aur Zaleel hay poora. *Don’t forget this is his birthday post* islie achi batain ziada. Anyways! Simple is that I’m failed writing something on this bastard, but just after my confession I may say he’s more than a friend or a brother to me. We are gays you know. Homosexuals. We respect each other the way koi bacha 14^th August anay ki khushi me Pakistan se karnay lag jata hay. And love the way ek starplus ki maa apni bahoo ko neecha dikhanay k liye apne betay se achanak shadi k ek haftay baad karnay lag jati hay ya jab ek Pakistani drama maa ko apni behen ki beti se apne betay ki shadi karani ho tab jo feeling ati hai na Love ki buss wahee we love each other itna. Khair! Enough of this self praising stuff, I want to congratulate him his day. The day he hatched. The day amma ko dard dene ka. Birthday that is, Happy Birthday, chappal k moo walay.

No hard feelings writing this post. Maafi tw jooti mangay gi meri isme kuch bura laga ho tw. Saaf baat hay is kameenay ki shaan me main aur sanjeeda hokar kuch nahi likh sakta. Andar se wo hi nai hota WO u know *samajh tw gaye hongay aap*

Khair, ab thora Rafi ki awaz me gaana hojaye

Baar baar din ye aaye, baar baar dil ye gaaye

Tu jiye hazaaron saal, ye meri hai aarzoo

Happy Birthday to you

Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you

Beqaraar hoke daaman, thaam lun main kiska

Kya misaal dun main teri, naam lun main kiska

Nahin, nahin, aisa haseen, koyi nahin hai

Jis pe ye nazar ruk jaaye, be-misaal jo keh laaye

Tu jiye hazaaron saal, ye meri hai aarzoo

Happy Birthday to you

Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you

auron ki tarha kuchh main bhi, tohfa leke aata

Main teri haseen mehfil mein, phool leke aata

Jinhe kaha usse chaaha, phoolo ki zaroorat

Jo pahar khud keh laaye, har kali ka dil dhadhkaaye

Tu jiye hazaaron saal, ye meri hai aarzoo

Happy Birthday to you

Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you

 Dua time: 

                 ………………………………….. Ameen J

My birthday was on 26 and this kameena didn’t wish me not belated, na itna zaleel honay k baad, abtak nai. But see my zarf I write a blog post for his birthday. Beth jaein Beth jaein, Peechay walon ko bhi dekhnay dain! 

PS I deliberately avoid numerous sentimental and emotional stuff in this post cuz I don't want to open the sweet bond between us publicly. We are far more closer than this post. Proud. 

Ajeeb sa. A zaleel friend. 

A Hate Story.

 A Hate Story (Pageview)

“She was wearing red hood with blue jeans. She combed her golden hair in a bun and tied them untidily. Some fringes were resting on her shoulders and few were annoying her by coming back over her face. She keeps on fixing it behind her ear while picking on the flowers she wants. She polished her nails red. There was no use of cosmetics on her face. Her skin was milky white with a touch of pink on her cheeks. Lips were pinkish red and blue eyes. She was stunning. I was enthralled studying her features that end on embarrassment when someone tapped me from behind. I startled. The girl was now handing me the money for the flowers she bought. She handed $30 and left. When I turned to put cash in drawer, Mr. Collins was staring at me with an evil smile. I was so mortified. Anyway, the girl was dazzling.” She turned the page.

Mr. Smith died in an accident later the year he got married with Julia Bennett. It was a month after Mr. Smith’s death; Julia started feeling some hormonal changes within. She was expecting. When this announced every other person of her family blamed her with disgrace. The situation worsened. Everyone denied accepting the child as Mr. Smith’s heir. Few months later she leaving all her belongings, but a bit of cash left the town and moved for Southampton. She heard of David Collins; a close unmarried friend of Smith inhabited there. David Collins pay heed to the situation and agreed to help Julia. He assigned her to one of his flower shops. Worry and fear of her upcoming life with a baby that caused problems in her pregnancy period. She delivered a premature baby boy with a patch of black hair next to his right ear as a birthmark on June 15’ 1986. She named him Joe Smith. Julia, in the same year diagnosed with blood cancer at a critical stage, due to the same disease, she kept on loosing her health. Mr. Collins started taking care of her and Joe more than before, but alas she died when Joe turned 7 months. Mr. Collins aggrieved a lot. He, then become whole family for Joe started growing up. Mr. Collins loved Joe more than anyone. He admitted him in a school near to his flower shop. Mr. Collins was the only child, and so inherited every tits and bits. He owns some houses in the same locality to collect rent from, with that he was the only owner of 5 flower shops in Southampton. Time passed. Joe turned 18 in 2004. He was fair in complexion, dark brown hair, black eyes, light shaved and a slim body, average in height, no broad shoulders and the birthmark still near his ear. He was of a nice and sensitive nature. Everyone loved him much because of his friendly attitude. Many of them knew him as Mr. Collins’ son. He rides around the town on his bicycle with a cowboy hat on his head or sometimes tied to his neck. He dressed every time in a loosen tee-shirt and jeans with sneakers. He had no friends. Girls did not like him due to his birthmark and nonchalant appearance, but he never cared. He respect Mr. Collins more than anyone and started working in one of his flower shops on Lisbon road when he was 16. 

“She along with a woman revisited our shop today, but this time she waited outside fiddling with her blue gown that was looking elegant in the glass. A little makeup really did prominent her beautiful features. She highlighted her eyes with a little use of dark blue eyeshadow and peach-pink colored lipstick. She curled her hair and left them untied. The woman with her seems like her mother, she was a little overweighed with the same milky white skin and red cheeks. She was showing dimples with her laugh lines on her aged face. She was picking on the flowers for a bouquet for about 15 minutes that evidently shows her interest in flowers. I was all the way watching that girl from the corner of my eyes. The woman finally pulled out the flowers she want and left handing me the cost. A black Toyota Prius parked down the road, a guy picked both of them and the car left.” Another page turned. She heard a crisp of something on the next page.

Mrs. Peters announced a college graduation party for her son, Eric Peters in end of July, 2004. Eric; a handsome personality with broad shoulders and chest, black hair, white complexion, hazel eyes with a piercing on right eyebrow, wearing black suit tonight. Mr. & Mrs. Peters were eminent personalities of Bournemouth. Mr. Griff Peters, a successful business person died off early at an age of 48 when Eric was 14 in 1999. Mrs. Peters, a notable advocate of the town. Mr. Samuel Grace, another lawyer worked for years in Bournemouth, now moved to Southampton with his family; a good friend of Mrs. Peters. They too were especially invited. Mr. Samuel was not in good health to travel, so Mrs. Grace and her daughter joined them to celebrate. Eric went to pick both the women himself. All the way Eric was staring at Angela. Mrs. Peters was so delighted on the arrival of Mrs. Grace and Angela. She always loved Angela for her looks. Angela was honestly a plastic doll; a beautiful doll, milky white skin with pink cheeks, golden hair and blue eyes. Tonight wearing a blue gown and curly hair untied. Actually, Mrs. Peters saw her after a long time and enamored with her charisma. Mrs. Grace handed the bouquet to Mrs. Peters and congratulated her. Angela too hugged and kissed the woman and greeted. They went to join other guests inside. Passing by the door, Angela noticed a missing earring. She kept on looking for it, Eric accompanied her, but they both failed. She baffled at an immediate glimpse with Eric and felt ashamed, but they both laughed hysterically. Eric and Angela met after a long period. She was a year younger than him. They both went on discussing their lives, inside.

“I shut the shop down, but saw something shiny on the floor. I sat on my knees to pick that up. It was a blue earring. I felt butterflies in my stomach; it surely was of the same girl. My lips curled and I felt an unknown gladness. I put that in my pocket and left. Arriving at home, I put that earring in a small plastic bag and attached it here.” She touched that earring and detached the plastic bag. She smiled and turned the page.

Arriving back, Mrs. Grace talk nineteen on the dozen about the joy and pleasure she felt in Bournemouth. She personally liked Eric a lot. Even Angela couldn’t find herself irresistible about Eric. Days passed, they both talked and eventually Eric started dating Angela.

Joe felt some changes in himself and affection towards that earring, he thought of returning it, but never did. He already started loving Angela, but she did not even know who Joe is. Once, Angela revisited his shop with Eric. Eric waited outside smoking where she picking on the beautiful flowers. Joe was constantly staring at her that Eric noticed from behind the glass that leads to a brawl. Angela first time noticed Joe and hated him for his looks first and then for his deed. Eric punched him in his face and then both left abusing Joe.

“Today was not a good day though, but I come to know her name when the boy hits me and asked her to come along. Angela, beautiful. She notices me for the first time today, that too a delight. I know I’m being nutty, but I love her. She is just . . . ahhh! outta words.” She felt ignominy and thought for a second, what she did that time.  She managed to turn the page.

They discussed about the incident. Angela astound over Eric’s reaction. She felt the way usually girls do. She thought about that douche bag too she never noticed in the flower shop. “He was such a pig, what was that black mark on his face. Urgh! Creepy people all the way.” uttered Angela. She thanked Eric. She loved him more after this day. She did not tell her parents about the incident.

Days passed, Mrs. Grace visited again the shop, but this time Angela waited outside deliberately. Joe along with helping Mrs. Grace in choosing flowers asked for her permission to talk with Angela. She permitted. With his head lower and eyes on ground apologized Angela for his deed that day. She yelled and abused at him, for his looks, standards and acts that gathered Mrs. Grace and Mr. Collins’ attention. Mr. Collins makes an apology to his customers and brings back Joe inside. He inquired him about the matter. He told everything honestly. Mr. Collins put in plain words about their class and Mrs. Grace’s class. He listens to the concern wordlessly.

“What if she hurt me today? She still is the beautiful creature on this planet and I still love her wholeheartedly. She hates me for my looks, my class, but this is not handmade and I’m no one to do against this. God gave me this and I’m thankful to Him, because I’m better than many. And I believe Angela too would agree with this soon and loves me back. Well, honestly speaking she was looking stunning today. Black suits her. Mrs. Grace too is a sweet woman. Well, I’ll look over Mr. Collins’ concern and try not to bring any shame or disgrace to him.” a tear rolled down her cheek; with nose reddened she turned another page.

Joe was riding on his bicycle delivering flowers to the customers at their places including Mrs. Grace in the list. He ringed the door bell. A servant asked him to come inside as Mrs. Grace wants to talk. He hesitated. Unwillingly he nodded to come inside. Entering the house, he saw Eric standing at a window nearby. He didn’t recognize Joe. Angela greeted him and they both left from the same door he just entered. Angela stared at him unlikely. He turned his head and gazed at them blissfully. Servant recalled. “I was thinking to talk with you about that day’s incident”, Mrs. Grace started. “Being honest madam, I was just apologizing for a past deed to Angela, but she misunderstands and all that happened”, Joe clarified. “I didn’t ask her for what happened, but want you to tell me how you know her?” questioned Mrs. Grace. Joe was about to answer, but a servant informed about Mr. Samuel’s sudden heartache. She left hurriedly. Joe panicked. All in a while, he was with Mrs. Grace moving to a hospital nearby. Angela stunned on his arrival at the hospital. He didn’t talk to Joe about her father’s health; Mrs. Grace too got admitted for her sudden reaction over Mr. Grace’s heart attack. Eric left at midnight taking Angela along. Joe called Mr. Collins and informed him. Joe went into Mrs. Grace’s room to ask about her health. She was fine by now. He slept on the couch nearby. Following night was horrific. Joe called Angela reporting the sudden bad condition of Mr. Samuel and his immediate bypass. Angela arrived alone at this hour, revealed later about her mishap with Eric. Operation ended with no good news. Mr. Samuel passed away. Doctor aggrieved informed Joe and Angela. Joe asked them not to tell Mrs. Grace about the loss. Angela in shock agreed. He went inside the room and sat by the bed of Mrs. Grace. He holds her hand in his hand and started, “Madam, I respect you a lot and I felt maybe somewhere you count on me too. I’m here with a no good news, but promise me you’ll not break after hearing it” his eyes became wet. He continued, “Mr. Samuel has just passed away.” Mrs. Grace’s hand fell down. He holds that again. She started crying. Angela recovering from shock called Eric. Eric was not picking up the phone. She was weeping badly. Joe after an hour came to her for the condolences. She hated his sight and left. He sat in the waiting lounge sobbing noiselessly. She came into her mother’s room and they both wept for an hour. Joe informed Mr. Collins; he visited the hospital early in the morning, but not forced Joe to come along knowing his affection towards Grace Family. Eric too visited the hospital lately; Angela hugged him tightly and cried for couple of minutes. Months after this loss, Angela asked Mrs. Grace for continuing her studies with Eric in Bournemouth. She wanted to get rid of this troublesome and aggrieved atmosphere.

“Past months were hectic as well as upsetting. I’m done telling Mrs. Grace about my interest in Angela. She has no problems, but all depends on Angela. Aside, Mr. Collins contented on my activities and connections with Grace Family. I feel sorry for Angela on bearing such loss at this stage of her life and for her mother to handle everything alone. Whenever they need me I’ll confirm my presence. Angela went Bournemouth 4 months 5 days ago and is now admitted in Bournemouth University with Eric. They are having good time together. Mrs. Peters is feeling all low at the moment and is on a complete bed rest. I miss Angela a lot. Wish to see her soon.” She recalled every possible memory, became gloomy and turned the page.

Mrs. Grace asked Joe about his studies. She assured him of bearing all the expenses for his undergraduate studies in Southampton University. Joe told Mr. Collins about the news; first he differed, but later agreed. With this, Joe turned another chapter of his life.

In Bournemouth, Angela and Eric were living their lives merrily. At times they fight for silly reasons, but settles as quickly as they start. Mrs. Peters wants to arrange their engagement ceremony and wedding after their bachelors. She called Mrs. Grace for the same and she agreed. Angela excited to tie her nuptial knot with Eric, but he doesn’t want any ceremony at the moment, but after endless insist of her mother, he agreed. Mrs. Grace left Southampton for a week. She asked Joe to come along, but he refused.

“18 months 17 days, and now Angela engaged with Eric Peters; a handsome, upper class, rich man with good looks. They both made a beautiful couple. She visited Southampton once in this period. I’m contented she still remembers me and hates me the way she does before. When she came taking Mrs. Grace along for her engagement ceremony, I was at her place. She bellowed me ghastly, but I did not mind. At least I caught her sight after a year. She was as beautiful and lovely as always. Mrs. Grace ceased her anger and asked me to leave. She later asked me to come along to Bournemouth with embarrassment, but I prefer not to humiliate Angela anymore. She is now happily committed with Eric. I wish they would live happily. It has been almost a year in my University; I have no friends yet, but hope to have some in future.” With lips curled, she read the page and turned. She felt some crisp on the next page.

Eric always hated restrictions over him and that continued after his engagement. Angela avoids the same, they have had tits and bits, but that is natural in any relationship. They are going to complete with their studies soon and Mrs. Peters is not well enough to live more. She has a month or two. She called Eric to discuss the lengthen matter of his wedding. Unwillingly he agreed. Mrs. Grace and Mrs. Peters decided the dates. Angela left for Southampton after her convocation. Joe is going to complete his undergraduate studies in 4 months. Mrs. Grace discussed Angela’s wedding matter with him, but he did not react and happily greeted her. This time he left her place before Angela arrives. Mrs. Grace ordered bouquets and flower arrangements from Collins Flowers. Joe did not accompany Mr. Collins to Bournemouth neither he insisted. She got married in couple of months and Joe completed his studies with a multinational job in hand. Mrs. Grace returned with Mrs. Peters death note. She was happy on Joe’s job and celebrated his graduation party inviting some close acquaintances and the newly wedded couple. Eric refused due to his new job and Angela, after a lot of insists from her mother, agreed to come.

“I couldn’t believe Angela attended my graduation ceremony. She was looking as spectacular as anytime. She did not greet me directly, but I‘m putting this flower from her bouquet as a memory. She came only for two days, but made my day. Luckily, no bitter tribute this time, but the hate was there in her eyes. Never mind. I am glad to have Mrs. Grace and Mr. Collins in my life. They always helped and supported me. Tougher years are coming; I will try to give my best.” She took that withered rose in her hand; touched it and put back.

Angela got pregnant at the early stage, where Eric was not able to cope up with a child. Due to his negligent behaviour, he loses two jobs. Angela was about to deliver her baby, but Eric was out of money. Situation worsened with his anger and stress. She tried not to over react and asked Mrs. Grace for some money. She agreed. Angela visited Southampton with her daughter Jennifer. Joe too greeted her, but she did not react. He noticed something, but kept himself quiet.

“Jennifer is as cute and beautiful as Angela. I greeted her today, but she did not react. I saw the level of hate in her eyes descended, but what worried me was that mark on her cheek, she keeps on hiding from everyone. It was something disturbing. In addition, she was not as cheerful as before, maybe I am thinking a lot. I pray to God for her happiness.” She got astonished on this. Even her mother did not notice that mark, but he did. She felt an inner twinge with a shame, but with a glee.

When Angela returned, Eric’s behaviour towards the baby and Angela was immature. He started beating Angela for no reason, but she did not complain to handle the situation and to save her love marriage. In addition, she does not want to disturb her mother, but when the situation aggravates she filed divorce. Mrs. Grace was unaware of all these happenings. Angela luckily got her baby girl’s custody and she left Eric’s house for good. Eric was gnashing his teeth. She started doing job in Bournemouth and made excuses to her mother not to contact her for few months as she and Eric is planning a trip to U.S.

Mrs. Grace asked Joe to visit Angela when he leaves for Bournemouth. He agreed. Arriving there, he did not find anyone on the written address. He asked neighbours, they informed him that Eric Peters left a month ago. He inquired about Eric’s wife and daughter. No one knows anything about Angela and Jennifer. This terrified him. He kept on searching for them, but did not find any clue. Coming back to Southampton, he discussed this with Mr. Collins, he asked him to tell this to Mrs. Grace. He did. She kept on calling Eric’s number, but nobody ever picked. Joe kept on investigating about them.

Within a month, doorbell rang at midnight. It was Mrs. Grace. Joe asked her to come inside, she told him about Angela’s arrival a night ago at her place with Jennifer and everything she have had in her married life. Joe felt distressed. He asked her to talk with Angela about the situation. She permitted.

“Why did not you come right away when he first beat you?” asked Joe.

“It is none of your business,” Angela replied emotionless.

“When did you file divorce?”

“10 months ago”

“And what were you up to for this period?”

“Worked in a firm and brought up Jennifer”

“Then why did you leave Bournemouth now?

“Who are you to ask this? My mother lives here and I’m not going to ask anyone visiting her.”

“She is like my mother too. And she is the one who wants to know all this.” Joe controlled his anger this time.

“I’ll tell her when I want,” she replied.

“Why do you hate me much?”

“Your looks, your standards”

“I will ask Mrs. Grace to ask you further.” Joe ended.

“Sure.”

Mrs. Grace asked her about her sudden arrival. She asked if it is a burden on her so she will leave, but a mother’s heart melted and asked her to stay.

“She never smiled in my presence. She hates me wholeheartedly. I know this, but I could not help. It has only been a year maybe after some time she will stop reacting like the way she do now. She is not creating any panic, but is not behaving normally. I still love her the way I did when I fist saw her. God please instruct her. Jennifer is a sweetheart. She is growing up beautiful and cute. Mrs. Grace and Mr. Collins are happy and contented. I am trying to keep things smooth. Maybe tomorrow something changes. I wish. Amen.” She felt ashamed, turned the page. Blank. It was the last page.

After few months, Mrs. Grace asked Angela to marry Joe. She accepted. About a year passed, but she never treated Joe as her husband. However, she being mortified a bit, but her standards was not allowing her to accept him. Jennifer was growing up fine and loved by both equally. Joe never treated Angela badly, but always gave respect. It has been a year today. Angela was cleaning her room, where she found Joe’s diary in the drawer, she sat there reading it, she felt guilty of all her deeds she did in her past. For all the disrespect, she showed to him even after getting married in a condition when acid patches on half of her face affected her beauty and good looks thrown by his ex-husband. After all those arduous months of unemployment, Eric was announced publicly a depression patient with the acts of immorality and maliciousness. Not a single day in a row of three he beats or thumped Angela and Jennifer. Angela was forbearing, but a day arrived when she announced to file divorce and leaving him for good. The news outraged Eric and a day he tried to assault Angela by hurling acid into her face, but she helped herself and only few patches damaged her skin tissues. Later she filed a case against him; Eric caught by the police and sent to jail until further notice issues. She wept bitterly and asked for her forgiveness first to God and then to Joe when he arrived with bouquets, gifts and cake. He placed the stuff over the table holds her hands and kissed them, took her face in his hands, fixed her fringes behind her ears and kissed on her forehead. She upper herself a bit, held his face in her hands, kissed his cheeks, his birthmark and hugged him tightly. Jennifer came in and Joe held him on his lap. Hugged both of his assets and thanked God for making inner beauty wins over external beauty.