Wednesday 17 December 2014

A Letter To The World

On Tuesday, 16th December 2014, an inhuman incident took place on the streets of Peshawar, Pakistan. Terrorists from an organisation called Taliban attacked a school, murdering 141 innocent people. 132 of these individuals were harmless children. Throughout the day, the Pakistani army fought tirelessly against the terrorists, finally succeeding in defeating them as night fell.

As a Pakistani, this was a day of great tragedy and sorrow. I woke up to the news of the attack, and my heart fell as I switched on the television. It was chaotically painful. I was not alone, Pakistanis all over the world were just as dumbfounded, just as sorrowful as I was. To us, it seemed that the children who were being killed were ours, that the future of Pakistan was dying. To us, it felt as if our children, our brothers and sisters were being murdered in front of our eyes. There are no words to describe what happened in Peshawar, there are no words to portray our sorrow, our pain. All I can say is that there are some events which unite people; sometimes these events are pleasant, sometimes they are tragic. The December 16th attack was one of the tragic events that united Pakistan in standing together against this barbaric act, in standing together with our children.

Here begins my letter to the world:
The terrorists who committed this inhuman act today are not Muslims. The terrorists who are killing in Syria, in Afghanistan, in a lot of other countries are also not Muslims. They do not represent Islam, and they most certainly do not follow it. Islam is a religion of peace, it condemns the killing of any innocents whether they be Muslim, Christian, Jew, Hindu or of any other religion. Islam also does not allow the killing of the elderly, women and children. A verse in the the Quran states that whoever kills a single human being, it will be as if they are killing all of mankind, and whoever saves a human, it will be as though they are saving all of mankind. 

Dear World, the extremist organisations such as ISIS, Al Qaeda, Taliban and many more have distorted the teachings of Islam to fit their own propaganda. They are using my religion, the same religion of 1.6 billion Muslims around the world to conduct inhuman and unjust acts. The 1.6 billion Muslims ask only one thing of you: please do not believe the lies the terrorists are feeding you. Please do not hate us because we are Muslim; because we are from a Muslim country, because our religion is different to the one you follow. Please do not judge all Muslims simply because a group of people who say they are Muslim are killing innocents everyday. We, like you do not want these killings to continue, we like you want to defeat these extremists who are ruining lives all around the world. 

Dear World, a Muslim conducts their lives just as you do. We wake up, go to school or work, we come back home, spend time with our family and then sleep. Yes, during the day we do pray five times a day, we read the Quran, some of us wear the hijab, some of us wear religious attire. But what I want to ask is that, don't Jews or Christians indulge in their religious practices? Why then, are we targeted, why is every terrorist attack blamed on us, why are we called terrorists wherever we go? I ask you: how can a small group of violent people represent the Muslims all around the world?

Dear World, we want peace, we want to help others. We donate to charities, we help orphans, we help the disabled, we help the injured, we are just as humanitarian as people from the other faiths . Yes, there are immoral people who follow the same religion as us, but there are followers of other religions who also lack morality. If they can be ignored whilst the pious are highlighted, then why can't the same be done for us?

In light of the attack in Peshawar and the siege in Sydney, I would like to tell the world one thing. Muslims do not want this, we do not want the destruction of innocent lives. All we want is peace. Dear World, peace can be achieved if we unite against this threat, this menace which can ruin us all. We saw this unity in Sydney and India, who stood up alongside Muslims, who see us as terrorized rather than terrorist, who stand united with us against the brutal terrorists. Dear Sydney and India, you restored our faith in humanity on two days where we had lost that faith. Thank you for protecting us Sydney, thank you for standing with us India. Those who defended Muslims in Australia with the #IllRideWithYou have shown us that we are not alone, that the world stands united against these wrongdoers, and that we do not need to be afraid of practicing Islam because there are many out there who will always protect us. Those in India, who treated Pakistan's greatest tragedy as their own with the #IndiaWithPakistan have warmed our weeping hearts, as we saw two rival countries become one when faced with the great sorrow of 132 children being killed. For that, India and Sydney I would like to thank you on behalf of the Muslims worldwide. You have shown us that we are not alone and even when it may seem that all is lost, there is always a ray of hope. I thank you for your support; you have restored my faith in humanity on two very dark days, you have shown us that we are united to attain a better future. In return, I promise that I will stand with you, just as you stood with us. And to the rest of the world, I hope you may stand with us too, because after all unity is all we need.

Friday 2 May 2014

Rainbow

The thunder rumbled. Outside the sky was as black as coal, the clouds hung low; dark and foreboding. The warm morning breeze had become icy wind, howling for all its worth. The houses on top of the hill had disappeared. Then it started to fall, heavy blocks of ice, crashing down on the ground. Although they were tiny ice droplets, they made torrential noise. Then, rain fell, beating down on the ground. Minutes later, colours enveloped the sky. Blue, green, yellow, violet, red and orange fired out of the ice droplets, painting the earth until all was bright again.

Being at home makes everything beautiful

Stepping outside, the bright yellow light shone on her. It kept her warm, it was comforting. She swung open the coal black gate, her fingers resting on the lock for a moment. The air was dusty, polluted and dirty yet she took it in, walking on the uneven grey road. The trees were a deep, lush green; their leaves floating gently in the wind. Red flowers bent down as the gust blew harder.

She stepped into the car, directing the driver to her destination. As the journey ventured on, she gazed out the car window. Other cars rushed by her's; some honking, some screeching, some releasing a dark cloud into the air. They were all bright in some way or another despite the fact that they were covered in dust.

The busy roads were still gentle to her, which was a thing only those who lived there would understand. They stopped at a traffic light, and she quickly averted her eyes from the window as lines of beggars appeared. One; an old woman with deep sunken eyes came up to her car. She knocked on the window, her eyes saying more than her mouth did. Shadows of tear stains were visible among her dark circles and wrinkles, her face weak and fragile. In her arms she held an infant; a dark, malnourished boy with dry skin which thirsted for a drop of water. Her heart melting, the girl lowered her window and slipped a twenty rupee note into the women's lifeless fingers.

The light turned green and she left the woman behind. Passing by the huge red school, she saw the country's green and white flag raised in the air, fluttering freely in the wind. She smiled when she saw it, watching the colours come alive in the people around her. Warm skinned individuals roamed the streets. going about doing their usual errands. The wondrous thing about them was that despite the colours they wore, they were all bright; shining, full of joy. Some were frowning, some had their eyebrows scrunched up, but in all of them there was a happiness which she had never seen before. Maybe it was because they were all at home.


Wednesday 26 March 2014

Lonely and out of place

She walked on the streets thinking to herself. Her hair flew in the wind, whipping her face. She changed the song on her iPod and paid no heed to the wind, or to how messy her hair was. Her thoughts drifted to back home and how easy it was. Her mother had done everything for her, everything was edible, life was just really simple. Here she felt out of place, judged, inferior and mostly alone. Trust was something unheard of and friends were almost never permanent. The tiniest of things hurt her, people were different. Maybe she was making this all up in her head. It didn't matter really. To her, home was always Pakistan. That was where she was meant to be.

Tuesday 21 January 2014

Things I miss about home

  1. My family
  2. My mom's hugs
  3. My awesome best friends i.e all my friends
  4. Pakistani dishes
  5. The freedom to eat whatever I want without worrying about a billion things
  6. Being in the same time zone as most of the people in my life
  7. The beach
  8. Hearing the Azaan
  9. Acting like myself because that is who my friends have grown to know and love
  10. Laughing like a crazy person
  11. Urdu
  12. The colors of Karachi
  13. Shalwar Kameez
  14. People who understand me so well that I never have to say anything
  15. My cat
  16. Feeling safe at night
  17. Not being an emotional wreck
  18. Free and cheap things
  19. Not worrying about money
  20. Hot weather
  21. Being overjoyed when it finally rains in summer
  22. Feeling like I'm important to the people I love
  23. The smells of a big city
  24. People actually listening to me when I talk
  25. Pakistani weddings
  26. Pakistani and Indian music
  27. Being in charge of meeting up with friends
  28. People having time for each other's problems
  29. Parents having all the responsibilities
  30. Normal people who aren't over dramatic or jerks
  31. Debating over issues without feeling I've lost before the argument even began
  32. Singing songs with my friends and being crazy
  33. Love
  34. Home
  35. A place to call home, knowing that I'm already there and being proud of it