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Rubber & Pencil







From that time I was born I am doing mistakes and still I never hesitate to do so. Maybe this is in my instinct. Sometimes I feel sorry for doing this but mostly before I feel sorry you come to help me out without any hesitation. People never own such culprits who do mistakes or sins consistently but you are the one who own me with all of my mischief and never had regret.


Pencils always do mistakes but rubber is always there to erase those mistakes by touring itself into pieces. Whenever pencil makes a mistake rubber gets hurt but vanish those mistakes in no time. This is a fact that rubber never ever mind this. Even one day rubber is gone and bestowed its life on the pencil with a glowing face. Pencil still remains there but exchange old rubber with a new rubber.





Parents are like rubber. They are always there to erase child’s mistake. Mold its behavior to seek education of what is wrong and what is right. They tend to manage and inform child to work in between those lines which are accurate. Parents educate their child to not to go beyond those lines and if he goes beyond those lines they erase that error and ask him to write it again until he can write. They keep on assisting us until they take their last breath like rubber.


We exchange our old rubbers with new ones i.e. our spouse take the place of our parents. We forget those rubbers who initially educated us. As for now we do less mistakes but never give credit to them who demolished in demolishing our mistakes.



World’s Oldest City


I still remember when I was playing with my cousin and my father called me on our land line and I picked up the phone. I started shouting with joy and my mother and sister were shocked. My father told me that we will be going to Damascus in three days. It was very pleasant shock for me. My aunt lives there and this was a surprise by my father. My summer vacations were just started so I was mentally free and relaxed. We left for Karachi with a Pakistani airline. The flight was delayed as of the reputation of our airlines. We have to take Iran Air’s flight from Karachi so we were much tensed. We reached after an hour of our scheduled time. We rushed towards our flight and as soon as we reached there the plane flew. We reached Tehran in three hours. And we had to stay for three hours for the next flight. At that time there were no direct flights from Pakistan to Syria. We ate Persian Chalu Kabab and zarishk rice from Tehran International Airport. Kabab were made up of lamb meat and were made on coal flame. Zarish is a traditional food of Persia.

Belly Dancer in the open air Arabic restaurant

Belly Dancer in the open air Arabic restaurant

After spending three hours we moved to our new flight that took us to Syrian capital Damascus in five hours. It was a huge airport and its structure was like a massive tent. Our aunt was present there to receive us who took us to the new Damascus where she lives. After having some rest we planned to go out for the dinner. Our aunt and uncle took us to a traditional restaurant near their house. We tasted Arab food for the very first time. They cooked whole lamb on flames with minute spices. They cut lamb and put boiled rice in it and then sew it to serve. The interior was very catchy. We sat on hand made carpets. It was an open air restaurant and I enjoyed a lot. While we were eating a belly dancer was dancing in the middle of the restaurant.


Out side Bab Ul Saghir in Damascus.

Second day we planned to visit wall city of Damascus. Damascus is said to be the world’s most ancient city ever developed. Those remains of pre Christ era are still there. All of the religions have some sort of affiliation with Damascus. Ancient area is still extremely beautiful. Unlike wall city of Lahore they preserved almost every bit of it. There was very pleasing light effect which they used. Even the street lights of inner Damascus took us to a whole new world. Damascus is believed to be the oldest continuously inhabited city in the known world and the Umayyad mosque stands on a site that has been considered sacred ground from at least three thousand years. We visited Umayyad mosque which was synagogue and church before respectively. There was a tomb of Prophet Yahiya in the mosque. The Umayyad mosque is still one of the most impressive sites in the Islamic world, with a grand courtyard and specious prayer hall. Some of the original eight’s century mosaics still remain on the north outer space of the transept, under the gable, on the arcades and the back of west portico and on the arches of vestibule. They minarets date from the time of Al Waleed with some reconstruction around 1340 and 1488. The minaret in the south eastern corner is called the minaret of Jesus because of a tradition that this is where Jesus will appear before day of judgment. The upper portion of the ceiling was made up of gold foil. It had huge ceiling with so many pillars. There were marvelous wooden work and carving on the walls and doors. The main gate of the mosque is still made up of silver and wood which is supposed to be thousand year ago. Upper portion of pillars had gold coverings, chandeliers of primitive Arab style gave the royal effect if the place.

Soq al Hamidia

Soq al Hamidia

We visited a church and a synagogue in the old Damascus as well because majority of the population of Damascus was of Christians and Jews. We also visited the tomb of prophet’s granddaughter and daughter of lady Fatima and Ali , Zainab in the nearby area of Damascus. Her shrine’s tomb was made up of pure gold. Our aunt told us about the prestige and the holiness of that place.


Traditional Syrian Swarma

We also visited the hill stations near Damascus. We enjoyed hiking there as well. Long range of mountain was looking epic at the sunset till the border of Lebanon. The tomb of Prophet Adam’s son, Abel was also there on the mountain. This was the first murder of human race.

We bought some Syrian antiques from the most famous market which they called souq ul hamidia and ate there tradition Shuwarama. One another worth watching place was chapel of Saint Paul in Damascus. It had biblical relation and a very sacred place for Christians.

We spend fifteen unforgettable days in Damascus.

Gold Plated walls of Ummayd  Mosque

Gold Plated walls of Ummayd Mosque

The Selfie Syndrome


By Feroz Qadri


According to the Oxford English dictionary, the term selfie refers to ‘A photograph that one has taken of oneself, typically one taken with a smartphone or webcam and uploaded to a social media website’. Simple enough, yes. But here I will discuss the intricacies of the selfie syndrome; the wave of narcissism and YOLOing that has consumed our generation. From Oscar host Ellen Degeneres and her possy, to biker boys one-wheeling in liberty, people all over the world seem to be hooked on to this phenomenon.

Let us first look at selfies in terms of practicality. What if all ten friends insist on being in the picture? Fair enough. Selfie zindabad. This is justified not only in terms of practicality but also in terms of social acceptability. But when a single loner, sitting idly decides to take a selfie, things become incredibly, utterly sad. The adjusting of a fat face to show off a nonexistent jaw line, twisting a bulbous blob of a nose for a narrower version, a shockingly sleazy pouty lip that really no one finds attractive; these are all contrived versions of ourselves that do not even exist.

The point of a selfie is to make it seem as though it was a natural and spontaneous take, yet ironically it is the most contrived of portraits. What is interesting to note is that even the ugliest of selfies have been carefully and meticulously planned to the tee. There is not an iota of naturalness or candidness in these takes. The ones below are examples:

An otherwise handsome and perfectly symmetrical-faced Sheru looking cross eyed and slightly constipated.


A forlorn looking Feroz looking off into the distance searchingly with an open-mouthed Tyra Banks pout that looks downright gay.


A suited booted Musti raises his eyebrows for a bit of swag perhaps. Going for a smooth look, he accidentally ends up with a constipated one.


Fluttering Wings


Right to Ricochet

Is it like when winter wind blows?
No matter now for no one knows
My eyes dart from darkness to darkness
In my trembling body, my fright shows

I hear voices, echoing screams
And something white, a light it seems
Fluttering wings I vaguely see
Like those I remember from the first of my dreams

It is time to leave this cave of darkness
To a place where nothing dwells but lightness
I am no longer what I knew myself to be
Spirit of the heavens; my new identity

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And She Knew No More


Right to Ricochet

By Fatima Ebadat Khan

“Get up! You worthless woman! Get up now!” the drunken shouts of Tehmina’s husband mingled with her terrified, blood curling screams of last night echoed in her ears.
As her eyes snapped open, it took her a minute or two to take in her surroundings. She found herself lying on the cold marble floor, wearing what remained of her already tattered clothes, which were now in shreds.
Tehmina tried to lift herself up but regretted this almost immediately as this slight movement made every nerve in her body twist and agonizing pain rippled through her body. Screams escaped her lips as she mustered the strength to lift herself from the floor. At once she collapsed onto the hard sofa. Tehmina peered at the blackish – blue bruises that her husband had inflicted upon her in his last night’s fit of rage. Carefully avoiding her face and…

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They Do Not Leave


By Myra Jafri


They leave without a trace –

No fleeting embrace,

No peck on the cheek or a squeeze of the hand,

No warm whispering breath bidding you farewell.

But you can hear them still

   In the lull of leaves,

      In the whirling of winds,

         In the tossing of tides –

You can hear them.

You can smell them still

   In the just-watered grass,

      In the rusting of brass –

You can smell them.

You can see them still

   In the searing sun,

      In the dusty clouds,

         In a flickering flame –

You can see them.

They do not leave.

   They have simply set sail,

      Trailing behind them pieces of themselves

For us to keep.


 (Dedicated to Nana Abu)

For The Love of Everything Korean


Right to Ricochet

By  Asiya Shoaib Ismail

It’s something that started rather reluctantly, really. There was this dread attached to somebody forcing me to sit through a 16-episode Korean drama, just because he found the lead girl adorable. Though I was in fits for the very first episode staring at a highly caked-up lead male who looked too effeminate for any girl’s taste, but oddly the first episode ended at this amazing note that I sat through all the 1-hour-long episodes in 2 sittings. This drama was called Heartstrings (넌 내게 반했어/You’ve Fallen For Me). You-ve-Fallen-For-Me-Heartstrings-youve-fallen-for-me-heartstrings-23591556-1280-1024

Highly caked-up lead (aka Jung YongHwa) Highly caked-up lead (aka Jung YongHwa)

This was just the start of an immensely severe addiction for everything that is Korean, from the plethora of good music, talented singers and dancers, the well-scripted Korean dramas, as well as the language and the connection I feel to their culture being from Asia, albeit a separate region of the continent.


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Right to Ricochet

By  Asiya Shoaib Ismail


People expect most of those around them to be concerned and sympathetic to the troubles that others face, and it is, I guess, the most natural and humane response to incidents of violence or hurt. But what does one do if they stop giving the normally expected response?

Clearly that is, what I appear to be going through. As a child and a teenager, I was rather impassioned, full of patriotism and this hope that I could fix things, fix my society of its ills and evils. I had grown up expose to many realities of my country but still viewed them in a very idealistic light. The mere fact that I have given up even before I have graduated is a shame, and I am truly embarrassed to admit that I am, in fact, apathetic.


It’s worth addressing why I have become so. Being exposed to…

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