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Posts Tagged ‘Pakistan


Sometimes he looked out of the window at the airplane on the runway or stared at the ceiling of the office where he was. There were three other men besides him in the room. They were wearing uniforms of three different colors. It was obvious that they belonged to different agencies. Awhile later the man in light blue uniform said to him; “if you admit that you are a Pakistani national and sign this paper that says that you are Pakistani; we’ll deport you to Pakistan with a request to the concerned department to treat you humanely”

Turning his face towards the man who asked him to sign the document, he looked at him for some moment and without saying a single word he looked out of the window and at the airplane. The man’s silence provoked the soldier in dark uniform to pull his hair and snarled; “While searching your clothes we found things that prove that you are a Pakistani. You traveled without visa and passport to Iraq and then to Syria. You worked in Syria for an NGO to serve the war stricken people. Both Syria and Iraq has confirmed that you are neither a born Syrian nor Iraqi or Arab. But you are a Pakistani”

The man looked at the man in uniform with any expression on his face and went back to look at the airplane on the runway. The third man fully clad in khaki uniform who was listening quietly lost his temper at last and howling at the man hitting the table said; “Go to hell man! We’re least bothered who you are or where you come from.“Our government doesn’t acknowledge you as an Iraqi or Syrian refugee; you are a Pakistani for sure. We will send you to Pakistan in the air plane you see there on the runway” he then looked at the two officers. Those two men took him to the Immigration Investigation office in hand cuffs then towards the airplane standing on Budapest airport. They handed the man over to the captain of the plane and came back to the same room.

While the plane was waiting to take off, the airhostess brought him a glass of water

The airhostess brought him a glass of water without his asking for it. She kindly said in English to him to drink water. He looked at her gratefully.  She understood his helplessness and heartrending story from his silence. His silence exposed his unaided vulnerability to her. So she assured him more gently that she’ll take care of all the way during this flight from Budapest to Islamabad.

After a while, the plane speedily took off

He was feeling worn out so he closed his eyes and rested his head against back of his seat.  He didn’t know his destination. His thoughts floated same like the plane in the sky. Memories ran on his mind screen one after the other.

Due to bad weather the plane getting imbalanced bound into an air pocket and within no time alleviated again. With the jerk he also emerged from the unfathomable ocean of thoughts. He looked out of the window but there was nothing except sheer darkness.


Wishing Happy Eid to everyone

Every national, each one, everyone

Tolerant liberal nationals of Pakistan

Stay blessed nationals of Pakistan

Let’s all enjoy and celebrate

Let’s greet, meet and celebrate

Fields we own gardens we own

High mountains, stars and moon

We own all cities, towns of Pakistan

All glowing faces wish Happy Eid

To one and all, living in Pakistan

Stay blessed nationals of Pakistan

عید مبارک عید مبارک
اہلِ پاکستان تمھیں

پاک وطن کے رہنے والے
ہنس کے مشکل سہنے والے
شاد رہیں آباد رہیں
عید مبارک کہنے والے
عید مبارک عید مبارک
اہلِ پاکستان تمھیں

آؤ ہم سب ہنسیں ہنسائیں
عید سنیں اور عید سنائیں
گلی گلی میں تانیں مہکیں
عید کے نغمے مل کے گائیں
عید مبارک عید مبارک
اہلِ پاکستان تمھیں

کھیت ہمارے باغ ہمارے
اونچے اونچے چاند ستارے
شہروں شہروں بستی بستی
سب کے چہرے پیارے پیارے
عید مبارک عید مبارک
اہلِ پاکستان تمھیں


Divine morn, vibrant spring, firm loyalty

Mark of victory, grace, and sign of dignity

The moon, light, the Sun, flora, the beauty

Solely engulfed; every lane in love of loyalty

At times its just land, at times akin to sky

The great land is precious to me as mother

It’s lighted, wide and spacious like audacity

It has valor, vim and vigor, and vital gaiety   

                                         The rain, the gale raises its glory’s vanity                                                

Time passes with pride and drives each day

 Nature’s divine call echoes in all directions

 This great land is precious to me as mother

This land was founded on the ideology of equality

Where on earth is such land of pious integrity?

Fragrant twilight rests and glorious morn rises

History speaks of its chivalry, gallant nobility

I’ll devote self to defend till I breathe my last

This great land is precious to me akin mother

Composed in Urdu by Razia Subhan


Pak 4 pakistan1 Pak 8 Pak 10 Pak2 Pak 11 Pak5 Pak3 Pak6 Pak7 Pak9

Dara Syed is my Nephew’s son. his father (my nephew is a  doctor in Boston) his wife is an Irish lady. Michelle is a very  loving mother , a caring wife and a good house wife. Dara interviewed his grandmother (my sister in law) I like it so much that i felt like sharing with my blogger friends 🙂10360197_10153505896639148_5317222178268315911_n34343_401503857986_8185593_nmy sister in law Rehana Syed
Dara is sitting next to his siter Leena Syed and brothers Deen and Adam
Dara Syed
C Block Social Studies
Reflection Paper

I interviewed my Dadhi (Grandma) on the Indian Civil War, otherwise known as the Indian War of Independence, which took place in 1947. At that time, she was 8 years old, and living comfortably in her family home in the huge city of  New Delhi, the capital city of India. I really enjoyed learning about a big part of my grandmother’s childhood while she lived there.
India had been under British rule for about 100 years back in 1947. Muslims and Hindus had coexisted peacefully for several hundred years before the British occupation. Indians wanted their independence from British rule. After the Second World War,  the British Empire was significantly weaker than before. With the efforts of powerful leaders such as Gandhi and Jinnah, India became liberated. In this struggle, there was a major Civil War, and millions of innocent lives were lost. My grandparents lived in India, and my great grandfather Hassan Syed,  had a good job in New Delhi, where he was a Court Official for a British judge. My grandmother went to an elementary school, along with her siblings, and lived a comfortable, stable life. No one could have predicted that her life, as she knew it, would never be the same after that fateful event in her life.
She recalled the beginning of her real life ‘nightmare’ in August 1947. Her father(Abba) came home from work, and told the family that they had to flee their home immediately, to go to the shelter. Most of my grandmother’s family was killed in this struggle-my grandmother’s cousins, grandfather and many relatives were killed. Her family lost their house and all their belongings. According to her, her house had been marked with a big ‘X’, meaning that they were potential targets. My grandmother had told this to my father before, and he informed me. My grandmother had not talked about this huge event in her life until recently, and when I asked her permission to interview her, she agreed, but added it brought back painful memories. She wanted me to emphasize that she doesn’t have any bitter feelings towards her homeland, India, but rather she relishes the memories of the wonderful life she had there as a young child.
Because of this assignment, I learned a lot about India. I learned that Muslims and Hindus were able to live peacefully side by side for seven hundred years, prior to the British colonisation of India in the mid 1800s. The British strategy was “Divide and Rule” and this caused disharmony among a society which had coexisted and was prosperous. India was known as a “Golden Bird” at that time in history. But according to my grandmother, this all came to an abrupt end once they were forced out of India.
As I reflect on my grandmother’s early life, I am so proud of her for being so brave during such trying times. I had asked her during the interview what was her age during this event, which she said 8 years old. I cannot even think of what  it must have been like for her, to be be suddenly removed from your own country at the young age of 8. But when she recalled with glee how she was so ecstatic to miss school and go on an airplane ride for the first time, I could somehow relate to her unusual happiness in such bad times. She was just a child after all, and really didn’t understand what was unfolding around her.
When Dadhi started to recall her horror at the death surrounding her back then, one of my follow up questions was ‘that must have been so frightening’? Dadhi agreed, saying that she can not forget the image of all the dead bodies she saw. What a difficult thing for a young child to go through. Dadhi spoke about how one of her dreams had come true in an unusual way, as she had always wanted to go on an airplane ride, and that she finally was getting her wish. She told me after I interviewed her, that as a little girl, when she saw an airplane up in the sky, she would say “come here, come here”. Her greatest dream was coming true! I found it so funny that she was also glad to miss school and I could easily relate to that!
             Dadhi mentioned during the interview that she slept for several years under her parents’ bed as she was fearful for a long time that she might have to escape to another unknown  place. This really shows how scared she was. I also reflect on my ancestors from India and how they defiantly stayed put in their homeland and I become sad about their fate.
            Another piece of delicate information Dadhi gave me after I interviewed her and was compiling my essay, was that her mother was pregnant with her youngest child, my father’s uncle Iqbal at the time of their migration to Pakistan.The youngest member of the family was then 3 year old Shehnaz. Now when I visit my father’s uncles and aunts in Canada, I feel very proud of the obstacles they have overcome in their lives, and I admire all of the positive things they have achieved as immigrants in a new country.
           My grandmother is in her mid seventies now and I am glad I was able to interview her for this project. She is amazed that these memories, although 60 years old, are being given a new life by my project. My grandmother is a brave woman,  and although she  has lived a sometimes tough life, she has emerged a stronger person. I am so proud of her and love her very much. I don’t think I could ever be strong like she was and I joke with her that one day I intend to write a book about her life.


Dr. Sayed Intesar is a surgeon. it is his own  persoanl tragic story

16th Dec was a sad day and known for “East Pak debacle”. However, for Pakistani nation from now on it will be remembered for different reasons in general and for many of us in particular. The incident has hurt the nation deep inside which is evident from the response by the masses.

Saima Tariq , my beloved wife was one of victims of this tragedy. She had just joined the school on 5th Nov as teacher. She was an educationist and had taught for16 years in APSACS. On my arrival at Peshawar, Pakistan i was strictly against her teaching job and wanted her to pursue her higher studies which she was already undergoing at City University. In spite of my resistance she forced me change my decision and joined APS Peshawar in order to follow her passion of teaching and educating the next generation. She was a soft spoken lady with a very kind heart and extremely popular with her students (fact which can be confirmed by her students and colleagues).
Now coming to the incident on 16th Dec 14, i have seen a lot of stories circulating on the social media with different versions (some facts and some not) and based upon rumours. The fact is she embraced shahadat with courage and stood up against these perpetrators for her students. What happened and how it happened is painful to pen down but the fact is she was burned by the terrorists. Beyond this i believe we should not discuss anything as it is painful for us the family specially when it is not based upon facts.
I also saw people’s remarks about the response being slow and all kind of criticism of security agencies. I want to clarify to every reader of this status that there are 84 schools alone within the Cantt premises let alone hundreds of schools in Peshawar. It is not possible to protect each and every school by the security agencies due to the lack of human resource. I am an affectee of the incident and still salute the wonderful response placed by the security forces in general and Army in particular. While criticizing we tend to overlook one fact that there were approximately 1100 kids in the school and over 950 have walked out safe and alive. Had it not been for the courageous response by my brothers in arms (being an eye witness and present on the spot) the loss could have been much much more. The SSG fought valiantly and took out each culprit. My sincere thanks to all of them who stood like a wall between the terrorists and 950 students saved. Let us all stop condemning the forces response and stand by them and appreciate them.
If the aim of this attack was to terrorize us or scare us i must admit that then they (TTP) have chosen the wrong enemy. I may be grieved b/c after all i am a human and have lost a near and dear one but i am not scared and my resolve to fight them has multiplied many folds. I am proud of my wife’s sacrifice and courage. She has not only made her family but whole nation proud and sowed the seed for change IA.
Finally i along with my family want to thank each and every person including my family members, colleagues, friends, course mates, Aviators, General offrs, PTI MNA’s, PTI MPA’s, ministers, Ex CM of KPK who spared time to visit me and shared my grief. I also want to thank all those who couldn’t join me in these trying times due to unavoidable commitments and called me or my brothers on telephone or messaged me for sharing their feelings. We are indebted to all of you for standing by me.
Saima you have toiled your blood but become immortal (as stated in holy Quran) but you have made us hold our heads high. You will always be missed and remembered by us all.


16th of December 2014 will be remembered as The Black Day in the history of Pakistan.

It was a regular routine school day in Peshawar   Army Public School. Most of the students were learning First Aid lesson to be given in case of emergency. The Principal Mrs. Tahira Qazi was observing the class. All of a sudden firing was heard. The students were asked to bend down and sit under their chairs. But, within no time 7 terrorists entered and started massacre.

Tahira Qazi. Her personal assistant says she had the opportunity to escape the school but instead chose to stay with the students. As the militants fired shots, she rushed from classroom to classroom, shouting at those inside to lock them in. She consoled, protected, and ushered many students to safety. She even phoned parents to come and collect their children. One source says, “the honorable principal was asked by the terrorists ‘where are the students and why are you hiding them?’ She replied: ‘Talk to me, I am their mother.’ The terrorists replied ‘Ok, you die first, in a miserable way. “Bullets were fired in her head directly.”

Mrs Qazi was known to be one of the most experienced head teachers in the city, running the elite school. In 2012, she was awarded the principal of the year award for “achieving excellence and showing professional exuberance in her duty”. Her family described her as a passionate, dedicated, and committed person- more committed to the students of the school than to her own family.

Tahira Qazi, with her martyrdom, has proved that the death of a martyr is a life of the nation. Her bravery has left the whole village proud yet bereaved. The principal of Army Public School Peshawar Tahira Qazi was laid to rest on Wednesday in her native village. The villagers were mourning the loss of prominent personality of the region.

More horrifying accounts have emerged of another female teacher being burned alive as she courageously stood in the path of the terrorists and told her children to run for their lives.

Afshan Ahmed, 24, confronted the marauding gunmen when they burst into her classroom and told them: ‘You can only kill my students over my dead body.’

The militants doused her with petrol and set her alight, but she still mustered the strength to beckon her pupils to flee.

Hifsa Khush is thought to have been burned alive in front of her pupils after being doused in petrol.

The children who were murdered by the terrorists were not murdered for “going to school” – they were murdered because those were children of family members in the armed forces, the very same armed forces who happen to be fighting these terrorists in War on Terror which began 13 years ago after the attacks in USA.

NO hospital in Pakistan indulges in gender discrimination. The reason why mainly injured boys in the hospitals is probably because all the causalities and injuries are boys! When the boys school gets attacked chances are the majority of the injuries and causalities will be males.
The “Pakistani Taliban” leadership all reside in AFGHANISTAN…the very same AFGHANISTAN, NATO is controlling. This might be a good time to go after them. Western media has done a wonderful job in painting our country something that it is not, and in the times of such unthinkable barbaric attacks, still can’t get off agenda in making us look like the boogeyman.

If one doesn’t know what  talking about (which is usually 99% of the time) then don’t bother reporting it until have the facts.


It’s your Pakistan,
it is my Pakistan!
Sacrifice heart for it
Sacrifice life for it
It’s your Pakistan,
It is my Pakistan!
There’s your blood and
my blood in its base
You’re honored for it,
I credited for it
It’s your Pakistan,
it’s my Pakistan!
You have its identity,
I have known through it
It’s your Pakistan,
it’s my Pakistan!
A city of lights and fragrance
is Mehran valley
The mud of Baluchistan
is my eyes’ illumination
Sahad is my heartland,
Punjab is life and soul
It’s your Pakistan,
it’s my Pakistan!
Sacrifice heart for it
Sacrifice life for it
It’s your Pakistan,
it’s my Pakistan!
It’s a living vision of
my great Quaid
Poet of the East’s
living dream
This dear homeland
is my conviction
it’s your Pakistan,
it’s my Pakistan!
Sacrifice heart for it
Sacrifice life for it
It’s your Pakistan,
it’s my Pakistan!


( extreme left sitting is Sabz Parri’s husband, I, Jansher Khan, Qamar Zaman, Mohibullah. Standing are Atlas Khan and his cousins at 8th World Open Championship Karachi)

It is rightly said that champions are born.

Every second person can’t be a champion, no matter how hard he tries. Its God gifted talent that excels with training, commitment and consistent effort.

For many years the name Khan had been synonymous with success in the game of squash.

Jansher Khan born 15 June 1969, in Peshawar, Pakistan    is a former World No. 1 professional Squash player from Pakistan. During his career he won the World Open a record eight times and the British Open six times. He won a total of 99 professional titles and was ranked the World No. 1 for over 10 years.

Jansher Khan is considered to be among the sport’s most illustrious figures.

Jansher first came to prominence when as an unknown he won the world junior championship. Two of his older brothers, however, excelled at the sport. Mohibullah, a top touring professional, and then Atlas, a highly rated amateur, competed in the 1970s.

It is an honor and pleasure for me that I know this champion family when they lived with us in Peshawar. His father was a storekeeper on the Pakistan Air Force payroll.

His eldest brother is Khan Sher, then his sister, Sabz Parri (green fairy)

Gulsher Khan, Mohibullah, Atlas and Jansher Khan

They belong to Nawai Kali a small village in Peshawar. Once in winter it rained nonstop for many days. Their mud house failed to resist the torrent rain.  The house was filled with rain water. Hence his father brought his family to our home. We had many quarters for staff so they settled there. I was a child then. Having no neighborhood or anyone to play with so felt very delighted to have them in our home. Sabz Parri was my age. We became good friends. Jansher’s mother was a very nice lady. She used to give us crushed ice mixed with sugar in summer afternoons. It used to be a treat for us, the children. She was very modest and caring responsible mother. Though poor having meager income. But she daily washed clothes of her children to keep them clean. Boys usually are careless and spoil their clothes. The mother was very strict. She used to send her sons to Officers’ Mess to help officers by picking up the squash balls for them.

These brothers practiced playing squash after the officers left. This is how they learnt playing squash.

There’s always a woman behind every successful man. The success of their championship is entirely their mother’s effort and support.

I watched his 8th World Open Champion match live in Karachi Creek Club.

In October 2011, it was revealed that Jansher was suffering from Parkinson.  He is being treated in Peshawar. I sincerely pray that he gets well soon and live a happy life again amen.


A beautiful masjid in south of Punjab Pakistan. It looks as if the mosque is finely placed on green velvet carpet

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