An eye for an eye: A death sentence to Shahrukh Jatoi and Siraj Talpur, life to another
Shahrukh Jatoi and Siraj Talpur, along with two others, have been slammed with the death sentence today. The harsh reality of murder has just taken its form and reactions across the board differ. Many people are pondering over whether or not this really is justice served. In my opinion, it is. As cruel as it may sound, I not only agree with the decision made by the court but laud their valour to resort to such a decision. Many feel this may be another instance of judicial activitism but this is, unfortunately, justice in its raw form. Some may argue that the sentence ...
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Schoolchildren’s travel woes
Children, as young as three-years-old, travel long distances to reach their schools and that, too, in overloaded vans, pickups and rickshaws. Sometimes, unfortunate accidents occur, like the one in Gujrat a few weeks back, which shook the nation. Sixteen schoolchildren and a teacher were killed when their school van caught fire. It is the responsibility of the schools to keep a continuous check on the vehicles their students travel in. They must keep a copy of the driving licences of the drivers and other documents of the vehicles. It is a fact that, at times, accidents are destined to happen ...
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My grandfather died two days after casting his vote
On May 13, 2013 my maternal grandfather Abdul Majeed, died at the age of 85. He was suffering from Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease. (COPD). As a result of this illness his lungs were not able to function properly and fill in the required amount of oxygen. This became the eventual cause of his death. Not only was he bedridden and totally immobile since late March, he had been finding it increasingly difficult to breathe since the beginning of May. However, despite his condition, he actually took the trouble, fought severe pain and found the strength deep inside him to ...
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Abdul Waheed Khan: When a social worker dies, a little piece of Pakistan dies too
Ladies and gentlemen, the conundrum for you today is to guess what March 13, 2013 and May 13, 2013 have in common. Many of you will answer, ‘the number 13,’ but looking beyond this obvious similarity, the former date marked the death of Perveen Rehman whereas May 13, marked the unfortunate death of Abdul Waheed Khan. Perveen and Abdul were both human rights activists, trying to improve the situation in Pakistan in terms of social mobility. It has been two months since Perveen’s death and nothing has been reported with respect to any investigations or legal proceedings against her killers; attaining justice for ...
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On my sister’s death anniversary: Jasmines to ‘the daughter of the eastern stream’
Time is a great eraser, yet its weak opacity has failed to blur the loving memory of noted poet, short story writer, journalist, fine artist and columnist Abeda Iqbal Azad – my Apa, who passed away on April 20, 2012, leaving us behind in deep shock and sorrow. She was a great lady, a good person, a beautiful human being, a devoted wife and a shield for the family against all odds. Unlike just a conventional ‘big sis’ figure in the family, Apa stood with us in all our ups and downs, supported us through and remained involved inseparable till ...
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Pakistan needs a leader like Margaret Thatcher
“If you just set out to be liked, you will be prepared to compromise on anything at any time, and would achieve nothing.” Margaret Thatcher. Margaret Hilda Thatcher embodied these words. To some she was an icon of assertiveness and conviction, to others, she was just a bossy old lady. Perhaps no other prime minister in the history of Britain has been loved and reviled at the same time as she has been, but that is who Margaret Thatcher was. To judge her on her political and economic beliefs solely would be to overlook her love for her country and her superhuman steadfastness ...
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She told me not to buy the motorbike…
Ammi was screaming and creating a fuss around the house. Abbu sat in his corner, silent. “He is just 21-years-old! No boy this young in my family has ever had a bike,” Ammi cried. Abbu nodded, not taking his eyes off the newspaper. “Are you listening to me? I said this boy is not going to get a bike. And that’s final,” Ammi was infuriated. Abbu just smiled. I knew the court had ruled in my favour. Abbu’s smile was the verdict: I was finally getting a bike. It was the best feeling of my life; owning a bike, taking it to university instead of boarding ...
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Would you like to stay online after you die?
Over the last few years, social media websites, applications and services have taken over practically all aspects of our lives and now they plan to take over our lives after death as well! Usually, when a person passes away, his ‘online assets’ (social media accounts, email accounts, blogs, websites etcetera) are rendered inactive, however, I recently came across an article about services that will help to manage your social media pages even after you have passed away. After having read the article mentioned above and finding out a bit more about the services provided, I found out that this wasn’t the only website ...
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Suddenly, they came for me
Not long ago there was a time when I was relatively safe. I was someone who was a relative majority, and as far as the constitution and power went, my life was sacred. My city, however, was never safe. Someone or the other was always being killed, shot, murdered, raped, kidnapped, tortured, or blown into pieces and then burnt alive, but that was never me. Those were just statistics and numbers. Those were just faceless names and nameless corpses. Life went on and the riots escalated. The escalation initially was in far flung areas and thus not pertinent enough to my situation. ...
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When a child dies
His eyes; bright, innocent and carefree, Guileless; so perfect in their entirety, Smile; pure, sweet, untarnished, certainly, it was cherished. Mother, father- forever doting, Precious like a diamond, As beautiful as a lily floating, In crystal clear waters. But his life, taken away so suddenly, Cut short, ’tis such a tragedy, Why must things be so? The mother, she scarcely believes her eyes. On the cold stone floor he lies, “No” she whispers, “he is sleeping”, My eyes fill with tears, I cannot help weeping. “Wake up! Dear one, wake up!” She cries again and again, He does not, will never again, rise, Still she calls his name, in vain. I cannot feel what she feels, I only taste a ...
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