Peshawar Attack: A Letter from 8-year old Bilal to his Mother

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My heart bleeds. My tears flow. I feel numb. Stunned and aghast by the horror of it all. What has happened to us? When will the madness end? May God forgive us and may He grant guidance to those sanctimonious souls who have gone astray. AMEEN.
To all who have been affected by this horrendous tragedy, know that God the Almighty has embraced each and every one of those precious little, innocent gems who now rest in Jannah, at peace, away from this cruel, wicked world.
My heartfelt condolences and fervent prayers go out to their parents, siblings and all family members…
“Allah grant you all strength and patience.”
AMEEN.

A beautiful, impassioned and most articulate piece of writing. Vividly described and so poignant….

God bless you, SYED M AMMAR

 

via Peshawar Attack: A Letter from 8-year old Bilal to his Mother.

Peshawar Attack: A Letter from 8-year old Bilal to his Mother

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It was a bright and a very beautiful morning in the city of Peshawar. The mid-december brought with it really cold weather. The usual morning rush hour had started. Little kids carrying school bags which were bigger and heavier than themselves were coming out of their houses. They looked funny but cute. All the kids were wearing those warm woollen hats, gloves and warm jackets.  Some were waiting for their vans alongside their parents and crying too. The mothers were , as always, persuading their kids to go to school. Their usual comforting line would be,” Beta, it’s gonna be fun, you’ll enjoy with your friends at your school, and while returning I shall prepare for you a delicious meal.” Some kids were comforted by this, while others were not. Everything seemed completely calm. The Warsak Street was filled with little and big feets making there way to their school, the ill-fated Army Public School. The kids were happily socializing and making plans for the soon-to-happen event which was supposed to be held at their school’s auditorium. Amongst the crowd was a young female, dragging her 8 year old son who did not want to go to school at all. Her mother approached the gate with her screaming little boy. He was wearing a green blazer, green pants along with a cute tie on the white shirt underneath his fine coat. His hairs were quite messy. Still yelling. His mother told him that he needs to be a good boy and go to school so that he can become an educated doctor and save lots of lives. Well, this comforted him… a bit. She bade him farewell and watched him disappear into the thick crowd of 500 students into his well-guarded school. Little did she know, this was the last time she saw her only son alive….

Assalam-u-walikum Ammi,

By now you must have heard the news of me getting killed in the attack at our school. I know Ammi, you are crying a lot and so is Papa. I can see everything from up here. Please don’t cry. I cannot see you both cry. It hurts me. I can see you both wailing and shaking my body violently and pleading me to come back. Ammi, stay strong please. Didn’t I tell you that I didn’t want to go to school today?

The function in the auditorium was going quite good. I was seated right in the middle from where I could see the stage clearly. Everything was calm and pleasant when suddenly a couple of Army men entered into the dimly lit auditorium. I thought they were here to watch the show, but they were all armed. They did not wear masks. Ammi, they looked very scary! And all of a sudden one of them shot down our Chief guest. We all screamed. And then they started firing on us. Many of my school-mates were hurt, some of them died on the spot. We started running here and there desperately searching for an escape. Ammi, I couldn’t find an escape route, I was so small. My friends from higher classes blocked my view. All I could hear were gunshots that almost made me deaf. I felt scared. I was lonely. I needed you Ammi. Where were you? I wanted to hide in your arms…

I also cried a lot and I was frantically shouting out to you and Papa, but I wasn’t sure if you were hearing me. Were you hearing me Ammi Jan? Didn’t Papa hear too? You used to say that you were always with me. Then where were you today? By then, my school’s auditorium was in complete chaos. Ammi! There was blood everywhere. I ran for the door and tripped over my English teacher’s body. I saw her, she was lying down in a pool of blood. I tried to wake her up too, Ammi. She did not respond. I knew something was terribly wrong. They even burned one of our teachers in front of us and forced us too see her die. She was a very good teacher. Why did they burn her? Why were these uncles killing us? I ran out of the auditorium and towards the sports field. I knew I could escape.

But as soon as I reached for the field there was another Army uncle who was in the field firing at us. He saw me too. I ran back inside but it was too late. Ammi, he fired me straight into my chest, twice. It started paining Ammi, my blood started to pour out and I fell down. The big monstrous man came over to me, stepped on my hand and pressed it against the ground, I managed to let out a short cry of pain, and then he shouted at me ‘Say the Kalma!’ He wasn’t human at all ammi. He shouted again in his somewhat Arabic accent. I couldn’t even manage a word out of my mouth. Seconds felt like days. The terrorists were worst than monsters in human disguise. It was very painful. I was facing difficulty in breathing. I did not want to move because it increased my pain. My body started to go numb soon. All I wanted was your lap to rest my head on. I thought I was sick, and you would come over and carry me with you, give me some syrup and sing me a lullaby until I sleep. It was all I needed, one last time, I could hold you, I could kiss you on your forehead and your voice, I wanted to hear it call my name. Slowly, my vision got blurred, the pain increased, I tried to cry out loud, but couldn’t. I always wanted to be a doctor, if I had been one, maybe I could have cured myself, right Ammi? And then I coughed a mouthful of blood and that was it. Yes, I was in my school uniform in the morning and now I sleep in my little coffin.

Papa always told me that Dadi went to Allah Pak and Allah made her a star. I think he was right. I am a star high above that world, it’s so beautiful up here. It’s also very peaceful here unlike our country. And I have met many angels here. They are so beautiful. And we all kids are living in a grand palace where we play all day. We have been told to wait until the Day of Judgement, when that uncle who killed me will be thrown in Hell. And I will wait for you both, I will hold yours and Papa’s index fingers and we will go to Paradise together, Ammi. Everything is beautiful here. But I miss you both. Don’t grieve over my death, it was Allah’s plan. Keep your faith in Allah strong. He is indeed the best Judge. He will make the wrong-doers pay for their sins. In the end, dear mother, just convey my message to the world that we Muslims are not terrorists, if we had been terrorists, today I wouldn’t have died. We want peace. Our religion wants peace. I don’t want any more kids of my age to suffer the same fate as I did, nor their parents Please tell the world to achieve peace ‘together’. It’s the only way to make this world a better place to live. That’s all. I love you, Ammi.

I know it’s very hard but please be Patient.

Yours Lovingly,

Bilal Khan

 

Maloquacious © 2014

A Celebration of Life

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Mal:

Our family has lost a priceless jewel – M.K.A – the most precious and perfect part, who was our pride and joy, and will forever remain in our hearts and in the hearts of all others who were a part of his journey. Be at peace, my sweet one, and rest in the safety of Heaven’s warm, safe embrace. AMEEN. My daughter Saneeya jots down her feelings and emotions for her beloved uncle in her blog which I share with you below. God bless.

Originally posted on Saneeya Qureshi:

I recently lost my most-beloved father-figure, my dearest, darling Uncle. He was a good, kind, honest and humble man. That he cared for and respected those he knew from all walks of life, has never been more manifest, than in the eloquent tributes that have been pouring in from all across the world. His passing brought to mind the following poem (I am unable to locate its original author, but would be happy to attribute authorship if anyone points me in the right direction):

The Measure of a Man

How do you know the measure of a man?
Is it through the life he leads?
Is it through his path of integrity,
That he never would concede?

Do you know the measure of a man
When he stares into your eyes?
When his love and kindness fills you
And his spirit you can’t disguise.

Can you see the measure…

View original 154 more words

Till we meet again, sweet Brother

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❤️ Darling Brother M.K.A ❤️

❤️ Darling Brother M.K.A ❤️

My beloved baby brother suddenly passed,
My heart weeps, my mind’s awry, no words that I can say..
Can ever take the pain away, O God..
Grant me peace, calm my restless soul.
….
My lashes rest upon my cheeks, my palms are raised and my prayers begin.
….
Aye, the tempest has lulled a bit, the cries and tears have lessened
Let Your blessed balm comfort me, O Lord …
As I embrace the beauty and goodness
Of my sweet brother’s soul.
Loved by all, his grace, his humility and deep compassion
Are now celebrated on earth by everyone.
Rest in peace, dear heart, till we meet again
Perhaps today, tomorrow … for only He knows.

 

Dear God, we thank You for the beautiful angel You gave to us, to be a part of our family. Oh, how we loved, respected and appreciated him – never forgetting to tell him how proud we were of him – and he, my baby brother, always acknowledged our love for him….for he knew we loved him to bits!

We bow to Your Will, O Lord, and in great humility voice our deep gratitude for the oh-so precious, most cherished fifty-three years we enjoyed with MKA. Rest in eternal peace! Ameen Amen.

 

Maloquacious © 2014

Of friends and flowers

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image via the web

What a delightful feeling it is, and how heartwarming! Yes, getting together with friends.

Whether the friends are from school or college, or even newly-made friends, time spent with them is so precious!

Having a cup of tea or coffee whilst chatting with them is simply lovely…and relaxing.

Ah, friends – even the blogger chums – I value them tremendously.

Each friend has a story to tell…

Their tales are woven in the rich tapestry of life. They are the sunshine that appears after stormy weather.

They are the comforting balm to heal our troubles.

They are the warm hug that says, “You’re going to be all right.”

They are the giggles after a tempest.

Their gentle touch is like magic, fairy dust sprinkled upon us.

They console us by telling us, wisely, that: “It’s water under the bridge, so stop worrying!”

They are the wink that tells us that a secret has just been shared…

Even my blogger friends add charm to the beautiful life.

They are across oceans and miles apart, but contact with them adds glitter and sparkle.

What diversity.. I love reading their various posts – especially when chocolate is involved!

Cheers for the friends I have. I truly value their presence in my life.

I embrace their vitality, wisdom and reassurance, together with the fun and laughter… Yes, I certainly do!

As someone once said: “Friends are flowers in the Garden of Life.”

God bless!

PS. Right, now kindly excuse me, I must skedaddle back to my coffee and chit-chat. Only the heavens know what all ‘gossie-wossie‘  vital information I have missed! ;)

 

Maloquacious © 2014

 

Stop and smell the flowers

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Courtesy of L.S

Courtesy of L.S

“When you take a flower in your hand and really look at it, it’s your world for the moment. I want to give that world to someone else. Most people in the city rush around so, they have no time to look at a flower. I want them to see it whether they want to or not.”  ~ Georgia O’Keeffe

Courtesy of F.M-G

Courtesy of F.M-G

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Courtesy of S.Q

 

 

 

I spent my childhood in England. Lovely memories! Vivid is the memory of the floral beauty there—daffodil, bluebell, chrysanthemum, sweet pea, geranium, foxglove, hydrangea, carnation, to name just a few. Happily, I can still picture the garden.

Courtesy of S.M

Courtesy of S.M

It’s a warm, sunny day. The flowers are flourishing. Bumblebees buzz among the petals and beautiful butterflies flit from bloom to bloom. Enhancing this delightful experience further, is the sweet fragrance of the different flowers.

Courtesy of M.A.Q

Courtesy of M.A.Q

But, alas, so many of us are forever dashing here and there, in a perpetual frenzy to reach our destinations that we don’t stop to take in the floral beauty that surrounds us. Carrying brollies and bags, we even fail to notice the gentle breeze which transports the sweet scent everywhere.

If we could just pause, a little while to relax. Take note of the splendid greenery…the flowers…trees and the verdant grass. Then inhale. Exhale. What a different (and better) person we would be! We would be more appreciative of God’s wonderful blessings. And, truly grateful to Him for His miracles.

Knowing how much I love flowers (doesn’t everyone?), my beloved friends from all over the world shared with me photos of  their gorgeous gardens. Bless ‘em, the dear souls!

Now, through my blog , I am sharing a few of the photos.

Enjoy!

Courtesy of F.M-G

Courtesy of F.M-G

Remember to also, think of happy, positive thoughts. Focus on your breathing. Inhale. Exhale. All the while, smiling. God bless!

 

 

Maloquacious © 2014

 

 

 

I shall pass this way but once

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Courtesy of F.MG

Courtesy of F.MG

 

“I shall pass this way but once; any good that I can do or any kindness I can show to any human being; let me do it now. Let me not defer or neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again.”
ETIENNE DE GRELLET

I deeply adore this quote but it makes me sad. It is poignant. I feel a little apprehensive. And I wonder. Wonder about…

..did I really do my best?

..was I truthful in my endeavours?

..was I a genuine friend?

..was I sincere in my intentions?

..did I honestly help the needy?

..was I compassionate to the poor?

..did I play my part in assisting the less fortunate?

..was I a good, caring sibling?

..was I a dutiful daughter, and a devoted mother?

..was I gentle and tolerant towards my old parents?

..did I step softly with humbleness on the earth?

..did I truly shun pride and arrogance?

..was I grateful, with all my heart, for His each and every blessing?

..did I remember Him daily?

..was His remembrance forever etched in my heart, mind, body and soul?

Seconds tick by. I pause to reflect. And I wonder..

…. Did I really do my best? My utmost best?
…. Did I embrace His teachings correctly?

…. But only at the end of my journey, will I come to know.

Therefore..

I beg You, guide me in Your way,

My head is bowed, my eyes flow with tears,

I implore Your help! To You, I earnestly plead!

Empower me with Your love, and eradicate my fears.

Amen.

Maloquacious © 2014

O Willow Tree Weep NOT For Me

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Courtesy of S.Q

Courtesy of S.Q

 

Weep not for me, O Willow Tree, ‘tis you I do implore,

Weep for those unblessed world regions, where humanity is no more.

Where, in senseless wars, horrifically, brothers execute brothers,

And elsewhere, yes, unbelievably, crazed brothers slay their sisters.

Where, also, so ashamedly, there is no tolerance, no patience, no compassion,

Only pride, arrogance, sanctimony, hypocrisy – Oh, Sanity, what happened to loving passion?

Families, countless, shattered; their dwellings, annihilated,

Womenfolk savagely tortured, battered and violated.

Weep on, O Willow Tree, for those innocent babes, yet to be born,

What? Aghast! Is the ‘Charter of  Human Rights’, all ripped and torn?

Sense the anguish, O Willow Tree, of screeching wails and deafening shrieks,

Note the poverty, the helplessness, the filth and dreaded disease.

O Willow Tree, you bow and weep, while the feeble try to sleep,

With depressed, rugged faces, their spirits scarred so deep.

Young and old alike, all crave a warm, safe embrace; a gentle, kindly smile,

Peace is what they pine for; security, utmost, they yearn for – Oh, Mercy, do end this tormenting trial!

Hence, once again, I do implore thee…

O Willow Tree, weep NOT for me.

Just look at the world – its chaos, turmoil, havoc and cruelty,

O Willow Tree, can’t you see? The world – itself – it weeps for me and thee.

 

Maloquacious © 2014

 

The name of the game – ‘Slice and Dice’

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Okay, folks, a couple of weeks back, I had a most interesting weekend. And I thought I would share it with you…..

Sunday sees me wake up at the usual time…..at the crack of dawn, 12 noon to be exact. No. I tell a lie.

As I take a sip of my morning cuppa, my cell phone rings. I answer it. It is my bestie. To protect her identity let us call her ‘George Clooney’. Oops! So ‘my bestie’ she is not. No. I tell another lie.

“Hey there, Mal, I just woke up (yeah, yeah, as they say ‘birds of a feather…’) and I thought we’d go watch a movie. Something interesting, an adventure with action, you know the usual blah-blah-blah, Mal. So see you soon.”

I say, “Fine,” as I take a delicate bite of the buttered croissant, “and I’ll be ready as soon as you are, Clooney darling!”

We hang up.

As predicted, she “soon” arrives, on the dot – after two hours. *eye roll*

Driving towards the cinema, she tells me about the movie she’s selected. “Oh, you’ll deffo like this one, Mal, I read that it’s a thriller and keeps one riveted to their seat!” GC enlightens me, her eyes shining bright with excitement.

This time we are to see ‘her’ movie because last time we watched my choice. Needless to say, ’twas a really bad choice. I concluded it was: “Horrible!” whilst dear Clooney declared, very kindly (yeah, at times, she can be quite nice), “Nah, it wasn’t that bad, Mal, the cinematography was brill!”

So, after purchasing two big small bags of caramel popcorn, drinks water and nachos, we ease ourselves into the nice and comfy seats.

Lights dim, darkness reigns and the movie begins.

Movie begins, darkness reigns and the lights dim.

Yes, my dear friends, the whole movie consisted of dark, drab, very dimly lit scenes. …And raging emotions…insane violence…gore…blood…sweat and stink…guns and knives…blood and gore. Plenty of it. Please note – Plenty as in muchas and muchas. Oh, yes, and severed limbs. …do you get the picture? What?? Fainted?! *shock*

Most of the time, naturally, I keep my eyes focused on the floor. I just cannot bear to see the senseless carnage shown and cannot even stomach the blood-curdling screams that resound in the darkness, all projected from the big screen.

In addition, I observe that I am not the only one to react this way. I take a surreptitious look at GC. Her mouth is agape; eyebrows touching the lofty heavens and eyes, all teary. Her right hand, in a mid-air pose, with fingers clasping sticky popcorn bits. The left hand covers her mouth, as if stifling the scream. (Yeah, eat your heart out, Edvard Munch).

To make matters worse, the ending of the movie (methinks, it’s utterly inconclusive) is left hanging, high up in the exosphere….somewhere way,way above everyone’s heads. Bewilderment. Disbelief. What a rotten anticlimax! *grimace*

We hear the lady in front of us inform her partner, “Oh my God, if it ends here, I’ll kill myself!”

Clooney and I quickly dash out. We both cannot endure another killing.

Clooney avoids eye contact. Stern-faced and in silence, and after a quick scan of the backseat (empty, phew), we sit in the car, lock the doors firmly and drive home.

Yes, GC had wanted to watch an adventure movie – that she certainly did. And I did too. Sigh. We were totally gob-smacked by the sheer scale of the morbid imagination. Awfully disgusted we were (and, also, a wee bit depressed).

Then and there, we decided to meditate…inhale, exhale and some happy thoughts later, felt a whole lot better – and, of course, all prepared (and energised) to face our next movie adventure experience.

Name of the movie? According to moi, the title should have been ‘Slice and Dice’ because that was the name of the game so brutally and graphically shown.. Stop! *Mal, think PEACE* …Breathe.

PS. To play safe, we now both check under beds.

 

 

Maloquacious © 2014

YOU are a different flower from the same garden

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Courtesy of B.M

Courtesy of B.M

 

Beauty is all around us. It envelops our very being. Feel the love in your heart. And, smile.

Yes, be happy with yourself. Endeavour to be the best YOU that you can possibly be. Hold your head up high. You are beautiful. In fact, YOU are beauty.

Always be confident. And know that YOU are a child of the Universe. You have a right to be here. The qualities you have are yours, uniquely yours. The talent you possess is yours, only yours. Take pride in them.

Walk tall. Be humble, for He has created you different from the rest. You are the pretty flower put on Earth to bloom and shine. Your traits are solely – and soully (pun intended) –  yours. Yes, yours alone. You are the original, not a duplicate. Feel the splendour of your whole being. Breathe. Embrace this knowledge. Reflect.

Yes, you are competent. Capable in ways you never imagined. You have the power. Just have Faith, and know that He has blessed you. Blessed YOU to be a good human being. Endowed you He has, with solutions to all your problems. Just be patient. Trust in His timing. As, without a doubt, His timing is perfect.

Be at peace with yourself. You are one of a kind. There is beauty inside you. That inner light radiates a pure brightness on everyone you meet. Goodness attracts goodness. Be gentle, kind and compassionate. This is how He wishes each one of us to be. The soul soars with delight…the heart sings. His Gifts are precious. Receive. Accept. And, be grateful.

Indeed, YOU are a treasure, more valuable than any gem that exists. Be proud of yourself. The Lord loves you best. Yes, you are like a pretty flower. Fragrance surrounds you. YOU are beauty…oh yes, you are!

 

Maloquacious © 2014