YoungPekhawar 2nd Newletter
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Transcript of YoungPekhawar 2nd Newletter
Fawad’s Eye ViewFawad’s Eye ViewFawad’s Eye View
crossroads of the
most politically
volatile region,
faced the brunt of
war on terror and
to this date
portrays its
vibrant culture;
Peshawar deserves a heartiest tribute!
July-August Edition
The Peshawar city is one of the
oldest, greenest and beautiful
cities, located in the mouth of the
historical Khyber Pass. It is 166
km from Islamabad and 58 km
from Torkham, the border check
post on Pak-Afghan border. The
majority of the population is
Pathan; a blend of various tribes
that take pride in carrying arms as a part of their dress; some
to instill fear, some to harass and mostly just to show off!
The best time to visit this unique and historic city is the
winter and spring. Since November to April are the pleasant
blooming months of the year. The local languages spoken in
this placid vale are Pashto, Urdu and Hindko.
Although recently Peshawar suffered a lot due to terrorism,
but it is my personal
viewpoint and
observation that the
people here are so
courageous, brave,
hospitable and kind-
hearted that they welcome
the foreigners from the
core of their hearts
and their smiling faces
show their
wholeheartedness. For a city that has existed at the
Contains original articles written by Peshawar’s
thriving youth.
A medium for literary and visual art.
The first ever philanthropic service for youth
that fosters their freedom of speech.
In this issue:
Fawad’s Eye View 1
Young and Poetic 2
Artsy 3
Cover Story 4-5
First Time in Peshawar 6
A Village Tale 7
MAHABAT KHAN MOSQUE
ZARGHUNI MOSQUE
GORAKHNATH TEMPLE
BALAHISAR FORT (TOP)
A Project by Youth Exchange and Study Alumni Peshawar
By Fawad Ahmed
Moments go on..
Days pass by
It looks like it was yesterday
When I had my first birthday
Time moves like
an unstoppable machine
No one but the Creator
knows its mechanics
I try to be fast ,but I lose track
I try to move on but
my inferiorities push me back,
I try to run away, but my heart ties
me with my loved ones,
It seems like my destination is just
close
But then...
I find out it was just a dream…
When you call,
Your voice will somehow reach
my ears,
Like an aromatic scent it will come
to me,
and happiness it will shower over
me,
Euphoria and peace it will preach,
Bringing joy and pleasure it will
reach,
No matter how far am I, my dear,
Deep inside your heart you will find
me very near
Young & Poetic
Time and Life The Call
By Zahra Qaiser By Urooj Siddiq (University Model School)
By Huma Khan
By Sonalia Qazi (UMS)
By Sahareena Wali, Jinnah College
By Sahareena Wali, Jinnah
College
COVER STORY
Strange by Ayesha Javaid
has to do with me. I’m just sitting here and thinking.” I
muttered in a low tone implying that I am busy and that he
should probably leave.
“You may find me helpful here young boy.
Other creatures like animals sometimes have a greater in-
sight into our thinking and my cat thinks I can answer your
questions”
How did he know? Hiding my astonishment, “You are try-
ing to be nice. I appreciate this effort of yours. But I don’t
need any kind of help. I feel I am a born warrior and will
fight against my thoughts myself. I don’t need anyone.
Thanks you nevertheless.” I said in an
extremely thankful way. And inside me
hoping that the man leaves me in
peace.
During this whole interval of a short
conversation with the man. The cat was
still exactly the same way as she was.
Stuck there hard as if she was consti-
pated. The man was about to answer
when I interrupted
“Sorry to interrupt but is this cat nor-
mal? Like really normal…I’ve never
seen such a strange creature before and I feel either she is
crazy or constipated “
The man smiled and replied
“Strange isn’t it? My cat never reacts this way. And you are
surely irritated by this manner of her? Aren’t you? Yet I too
see you in exactly the same way as the cat is. You are acting
abnormally and I too want to know about you. Trust me and
tell me your peace lies in my answers.”
Hypnotized and transfixed, out of my own accord I mum-
bled. “I don’t know if you have the answer but still my first
question is that why I cannot live in a fairy world? Where I
am the king .”
“You will for sure. But nature cannot be changed. You will
have to lose something in order to get something better. My
son you have to lose aggressiveness, impatience. You have
to lose your own choice and let others first”
“Well that would make my life a living hell!” I was irritat-
ed.
“Yes it will make hell out of the fiction. And as a result you
will get your kingdom in the real world. Which will never
end. You see everyone dies here. You won’t die there. So
Walking on my home on a dark black rainy thunder-
ous night, I was lost. Totally lost in my thoughts of
who I am? Where was I before I wasn’t me?
Am I fiction?
Why do you always have fantasies and cannot live
like fairies?
Why can’t you to forget about the feelings that ulti-
mately hurt?
And I suddenly stumbled against the trash lying be-
side a wall. I did not recognize during all this time
that the rain has finished. And the night is almost
about to end. I sat down in resignation and thought
about these thoughts gnawing at
my peace.
A black cat sauntered by and
bore holes into me with her em-
erald eyes, as if I had entered
her territory.
Extraordinarily the cat did not
even move a single time from
her chosen position. I leaned
near her in order to touch her.
Unlike normal cats she did not
budge!
The sphinx flabbergasted me!
“So he is the one you want me to meet?”
I heard a voice from behind the cats shadow. Slight
sunrays were falling on his wise wrinkled face and I
could hardly see him. But all I can say is that he
seemed to be an old man with silver beard trailing up
to his chest holding a rosary in his gnarled fingers.
“My cat MIGHTY AND MERCY”, he point-
ed at it, “I could see her disturbed the whole night. As
if she wanted me to meet someone really close to her.
And then by midnight she pawed me to ask me for a
favor. I got up and placed some milk before her but
she pushed the milk . spilled it on the floor and
caught hold of my shoe by her jaws and tried hard to
drag me somewhere out of the cottage. And here is
where she brought me to see you.” His eye roved over
me. “Hmmm. You seem from a well-off rich family.
Why are you sitting here beside this bundle of trash?
And the first thing I would like you to answer is that
how does my cat know you?”
“No, I seriously don’t know what does the cat
because we cannot perfectly erase our memory. And
each and every fiction has something to create a thrill.
Even the fairy tales. Even your kingdom of dreams
my son. Fiction works that way. And it is also a way
to test yourself. Will you commit the same mistake
again or no? And most of the times we commit it
again. Because of the fact no one is born perfect. Ex-
perience speaks my son.”
“Sure it does. I agree and thank you for being so kind
to satisfy my worrying mind.”
He smiled, “I did nothing else than speaking up your
own mind to you. At times we even hesitate to solve
our own problems. How strange isn’t it?”
“Yes. You have made me even come more close to
myself. I still don’t know myself and I’m fighting in
this fiction to know others. I need to know my pur-
pose and I really need to know it”
“The cat seems satisfied!” said the
old man. And trust me it was. The
cat swirled around his feet.
I, with a huge bright smile, replied
“Me too!”
The man then said. “I shall go to
perform my prayers. But before
going I would like to tell you 1
thing you must remember all your
life. Most of the times between the
race of a lion and a deer. The deer
wins ninety-nine times in a hundred. Because the lion
runs for food and the deer runs for life. PURPOSE IS
MORE IMPORTANT THAN NEED!”
I stood up and cleaned the dust from my pants and
shook hands with my kind mentor. I could feel he did
not have a bone in his thumb finger. I wanted to ask
but was in such an excitement of being me myself that
I ignored the fact. I bade him good bye and turned to
the nearby Masjid in order to thank Allah. But just a
blink later a thought came into my mind. The Masjid
is this way. So where did the old man go. I turned in
order to ask him and he wasn’t there. There was no
trash lying beside the same wall. There was nothing.
Absolutely nothing. I realized the trash was in my
mind which an angel came and cleaned up. Surely if
you need Allah’s help, He will give you more than
you need. I stepped into the Masjid. Thinking of how
strange the night was!
you decide peace here or peace there?”
His answer kind of satisfied me. I felt close to my own
self. And came across the reality that my life is fiction.
When my Creator reads the fiction I made. So if it’s a
universal best seller. He will let me go to the kingdom
I want. And if it’s a flop fiction. I’m into hell forever.
“Umm… thank you Sir, my next question is what was
I before I wasn’t me”
“Oh! So you went deep.. you… you were nothing but a
single soul that promised the Creator that will follow
His rules and His laws in order to get your own king-
dom. You were a selfish creature because you paid
attention to the beauty of your kingdom. The heaven.
But you ignored the fierce fire of hell. And here you
are granted with a chance either to amend the mistake
you committed or continue selfishly in your eternal,
fictional kingdom.”
He took a deep breath, “My
son! You have to decide. What
you did is gone. But now you
have to show who you are and
what you are. You are provided
with many doors in this game.
And you have got many keys
as well. The only thing which
makes you yourself is which
door you decide to open. The
one to your kingdom or the one
to fiction. You have the right to mould your fiction in
any way.”
Surprised at this very extremely graceful white-robed
man’s wisdom and composure I did not realize that the
sun was beginning to break the inky blue shell of
night. He gave me my answers. I could easily get to
others as well but I felt the train of time was almost
leaving.
“Okay! Sir one more question if you don’t mind...
please “ I said with a smile of satisfaction on my face.
And he said
“I am here to answer you. Please continue my son”
“The last question is that Why can’t we forget about
the feelings that ultimately hurt us?”
“Smart... indeed very smart. Remember you get hurt
because of yourself. You trust the wrong thing and you
get hurt. You go for something you shouldn’t and you
get hurt. So you get hurt because of yourself and even
if you try to forget this feeling. It still exists for a while
First Time In peshawar
With the sweltering sweep of summers and the
academic year ending, the Youth Exchange and Study
Alumni successfully conducted a School of Writing
workshop that spanned over two days. Dozens of
schools ea-
gerly sent
their students
forward to
participate in
this workshop, but we had to restrict the number to
50 students from age 15-19.
We are proud to state that with no virtually
professional help the members made this a produc-
tive event. There were well-prepared, comprehen-
sive presentations above 90 minutes on topics like Reading, Creative Writing, Communica-
tion Skills, Blogging and Journalism. Not only was the event free of cost, the participants
were given handouts of the presenta-
tion, refreshments and certificates. The
feedback was astoundingly encourag-
ing.
Clearly everyone learned and
enjoyed side by side. This workshop
inspired the students to come out of
their shells and write! It was an at-
tempt at developing their budding per-
sonalities and it is an immense pleas-
ure to know that these students are ar-
dently contributing to the YoungPek-
hawar blog. We hope to continue with
such groundbreaking educational
courses in the future.
13 km away on the forlorn outskirts of Nowshera, is a unusual sight of
a small village called Ziarat Kaka Sahib. It is a hilly area is famous primarily
for the tomb of a saint named Hazrat Kaztir Gul. It stands as a palpable land-
mark visible throughout the area. The village sustains buildings and relics
steeped in the ancient Hindu architecture before 1947.
Hazrat Kaztir Gul’s tomb drapes a
religious aura over the village, such
that every year in the month of Ra-
jab the villagers attend the Urs
(death anniversary) at the shrine.
Urs is believed to be humans con-
tact with the spirits and ends on
24th Rajab with the brightened,
dazzling display of lights called
Charagha. The shrine is made of
out white milky marble embellished
with calligraphic scriptures on the
outside.
To the observer it sits proudly as a pearl in its shell, untouched by the
hustling bus- tling bazaar outside. Behind this tomb
is an old mosque called Masjid-e-Hoz construct-
ed by Mughal king Akbar. The Mughal legacy contin-
ued here, even when Akbar constructed the Rang
Mahal, a rest- house constructed on water. The local
legend has it that Akbar once left a treasure behind
which no one dares to uncover since its protected by
some demon. Some say that in reality the special
kind of stone used during construction reflected a golden tinge and therefore
people spun tales about the existence of gold and
diamonds. Nevertheless, it is a beautiful sight
and a must visit for anyone interested in the
deeper truths of our heritage.
By Feeha Riaz (University Model
School)
Hassan Saeed (Youth Affairs Officer
at iEARN Pakistan)
Mobile: 0333-9100670
Nayab Mirza (Editor)
Mobile: 0341-3260220
E-mail: [email protected]
This time the people who deserve a Great Job Golden Star are:
Fawad Ahmed: A young blogger since June 2012, who wants to raise the
positivity about Pakistan and thinks that Pakistanis should be loyal to their
country and should know the heritage, natural beauty and amazing history
of this nation!
Urooj Siddiq: A young blogger who has read Vampire Diaries and thinks that, “Elena is not
worth the quarrel between Stefan and Damon!”
Feeha Riaz: A participant from School of Writing Workshop who has been in contact with the
editor with her vibrant articles and stories.
Ambar Siddiq: A proud Pathan who recently enjoyed an amazing trip to Swat and loves Ismail
and Junaid’s band!
Ayesha Javaid: A blogger since February 2012, loves sharing her life’s events, her thoughts and
random philosophies. She welcomes the reader to blog that is the “road to her very own mind!”
She loves books, dislikes music and is guilty of crying over movies!
Kudos to our Young Writers!
Youth Exchange and Study
Alumni
Word of the day:
Surreptitious (adjective): being cautious
and taking pains to avoid being observed.
(Sentence): He cast a surreptitious glance
at the door to see if the waiter was
bringing the food or not!
Quote of the day:
“Be yourself; everyone else is
already taken.” ~Oscar Wilde
Join us: [email protected]
Youngpekhawar ~
Let your voice be h
eard!
Editor’s Note:
We would love to hear your comments, criticism, suggestions,
concerns and opinions. Tell us how to make YoungPekhawar
a success, we really need your help, so will you help a friend
in need? If yes then take out time and write to us!