Fatima Raza

Fatima Raza

The author is a Biosciences graduate and a student of MPhil International Relations. She aspires to be an accomplished writer someday.

Series 5 Finding salvation Part 2 ‘The bloody bride’

Read part one of the Finding Salvation series here. He could hear footsteps. It sounded as if someone was approaching but at a snail’s pace. This gave time for his heart to slow down. He stood hidden partly behind an old pillar. The silhouette came to light, whatever dim light was on at that time, and an old man came into view. Dragging his slight self by a cane, he slowly thudded his way towards a bench. Saleem saw him sit down on the bench, completely oblivious to his presence. The man took something out of his pocket. Trying to focus ...

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Series 5 Finding salvation Part 1 ‘Love allergy’

The old rickshaw came to a skidding halt in front of the station. He poked his head out and looked at the busy station in distress. Saleem hated noisy places. Paying the driver in change, he got off. He threw his backpack on his shoulder and hesitantly waded through the crowd squinting for the ticket booth. “This has to be oldest train station in this province!” He thought irritably wrinkling his nose at the touch and smell of other human beings. The stench was unbearably strong. What to say of the germs this crowd must be carrying around. After struggling for ...

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“There will be no Eid here. Eid makes no difference to me”

“Eid makes no difference to me. I only wait for rain.” He answered. Standing under a rare tree shade Ali Murad Sathio waited for his turn to get water from the pump. Yes, it was true. He did not care for Eid – or any event, for that matter. It had been a few years since he stopped caring. Still, whenever someone mentioned Eid, his thoughts travelled back to the fateful Eid days, three-years-ago. His beautiful mother had prepared him for Eid day. She had managed to cook one sweet dish which was as delicious as the nectar of the heavens. Or at least that was how ...

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Mor Mahal is great creative effort but not Sarmad Khoosat’s best work

You know when Jon Snow (although he knows nothing!), stands at the edge of the great wall looking down at the steely snow filled north, he is actually glaring at the camera. Duh! But he is not standing inside a studio. It is Iceland. It is a brutal -35˚C out there. Why go to such extreme lengths, you ask? It is all about authenticity. The Pakistani fictional production of the ‘Mor Mahal’ is a great creative effort by the brilliant Sarmad Sultan Khoosat as a director, but several things stand out to question its authenticity. The set designs are exquisite with ...

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Sea cemetery: The height of human folly

Do you know you can smell death? Yes, you can. It smells like blood. It smells like bones. It smells like Syria. In six years, it has claimed more than 400,000 lives and alas, we are still counting! The land has literally shrunk from abundant horror of burying human flesh. For thousands, the waves of the Mediterranean have become the final resting place. These are the unfortunate citizens of this doomed country who try to scramble out and move to a land with no war. But the ferocious waters, devious boat captains and inadequate supplies toss them into the merciless ...

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Maria Toorpakai’s life sings like a Khaled Hosseini novel

Cut off my locks….my pretty black locks…. Throw away my frocks….my pretty bright frocks…. I will ditch my bangles and my dainty shoes…. I will run as a boy and let myself loose…. They will spare my life if I turn into a boy… And if I remain a girl, they will kill my joy… Birds of a feather flock together. But if you aim to fly high, you have to leave the flock first. Such a bird is Maria Toorpakai. Her life is nothing short of a Khaled Hosseini’s novel; the war struck her home town, the high profile political family and the strangest dream ...

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To the mothers of the lost unborn

As her eyes flickered and she finally regained consciousness, we both were relieved and afraid. Relieved, that she pulled through and afraid that now someone we would have to break the news to her. Her mother caressed her hair lovingly looking upon her pale face. “Zara! Open your eyes dear.” She finally awoke, registering her surroundings while trying to recognise our faces. And then she asked the one question we were all dreading, “Where is the baby?” She asked twice. Nobody had the courage to answer her. She tried sitting up, wincing with pain, but her mother stopped her. She was puzzled before but then ...

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Is Tum Kon Piya on its way to becoming a house-hold favourite?

Tum Kon Piya is a befitting title for a story that revolves around the deep affection between a father and his beloved daughter. From the first episode, you can tell that Maha Malik penned down these characters with bewitching fondness, and that has been brought to life by a string of talented actors and actresses.

Yasir Nawaz and Abdullah Kadwani came together to launch this drama adapted from the novel by the same name written by Maha Malik. Imran Abbas and Ayeza Khan pair up in a picture perfect couple for this serial creating beautiful chemistry on screen. The ...

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He was penalised for drinking water out of a well

O’ lord, my Lord, may I have my wage…? It is dark out now and my boys eagerly wait… It was a scorching hot day as I tended to your crops… I toiled all day as sweat rolled down in drops… I felt needles in my throat… my eyes burned with fever… I longed to sit in the shade and have a cool drink of water… I worked near the tube well, a lot of wood I logged… Yet I dared not quench my thirst for the fear of being flogged… I am not complaining O’ master… I have known the rules for ...

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He named her Angel

I named her Angel and she looked the part too. After four rowdy boys, my wife and I had prayed for a girl. I was blessed, fathering four sons or at least that is what everyone told me. However, the Easter of 2011 brought with it the true tidings of joy and blessings for me, when my Angel was born. I have recorded every moment, every toothless smile, every shaky step and all first mumbles from her beautiful mouth. I have watched her sleep, memorising the details of her innocent face and I have stayed up with my wife ...

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