Story Time: The Spirit of Freedom

Baber was playing cricket with his friends in the street. His family had recently moved into this neighbourhood. Every evening, the children would come out to play cricket, ride bicycles or just get together for a chat. Babar was a very well-mannered boy and a good cricketer. He soon made many friends.

As they played, a small boy ran up to them carrying the ball which Babar had hit for a six. The boy was small and dressed in old, stained clothes. His plastic slippers were too big for him and his hands were dusty. Baber smiled at him and stretched his hand forward to accept the ball.

“Hey you! How dare you touch my ball?” Umar said in a furious tone.

“Here, give it to me. You have made it dirty,” Umer snatched the ball from the young boy’s hand and pushed him away aggressively. The boy ran away with a frightened look in his eyes.

Babar was stunned for a minute. He could not understand Umer’s anger.

“Why were you so rude to him Umer?” Babar asked. “He was only returning the ball.”

“You are new here, Babar. You don’t know these dirty children,” Umer said with contempt. “Our parents have told us not to go near them. They might have lice and they are always dirty and smelly. Don’t encourage them or they will want to play with us. And we won’t allow that.”

Just then Babar’s mother called him inside and their conversation ended. But Baber could not get the image of the young boy holding out the ball out of his mind.

The next day, he asked his own maid about the kids.

“Those are poor maid Kalsoom’s kids,” replied Sakina. “Her husband died of kidney failure a few months ago. She has four children and no one else to take care of them. She is working in many homes to make ends meet.”

“Do the children go to school? Baber asked sympathetically.

“I think the older one used to but since their father died, he works as a gardener’s help in a house. Others are too young to work so they stay at home.” Sakina said clearing away the breakfast table.

The next week, it was August 14. All the children were excited. They had been planning for Independence Day celebrations with great fervour. Umer had bought yards and yards of paper flags to decorate their house. Kamran was putting up a huge green and white flag. Some children were planning to decorate their home with candles. Some had been collecting money to buy firecrackers, balloons and badges.

“What are you going to do on 14th August, Baber?” Umer asked. “We are planning to have dinner in a five star hotel. It would be so much fun.”

“Dad says I can buy as many firecrackers as I want,” boasted Noman.

“Last year he did not get any money and he threw such a tantrum that my father has promised to give him lots of money this year,” his brother Junaid chimed in.

“You are very quiet, Baber? Aren’t you going to celebrate Independence Day?” Junaid asked.

“I am planning to light three candles this year,” said Baber mysteriously.

“Just three candles! How can you be so stingy? If you wish, I can share my flags with you,” added Kamran generously.

“No thank you. I have enough for my needs.”

The next day, the children saw something very strange. First Baber came out with a long plastic table. Then he dragged some chairs around it. He arranged a stack of books and some stationery. From the other end of the street, the children saw maid Kalsoom’s children make their way hesitantly. Baber smiled at them and told them to sit down.

Baber gave a colouring book and some colour pencils to the youngest boy. He then turned his attention towards the other two. “You will come here every day at this time to get your lessons. I will teach you to read and write.”

Tears glistened in Hassan’s eyes as he opened his copy. With great difficulty he wrote the words “Pakistan”. By this time, Baber’s friends had gathered there to see what was going on. They looked confused.

“Baber, have you gone mad? You are going to teach them?” Umer asked.

“Why not? Our country cannot be truly free while it suffers from poverty, illiteracy and inequality. We must remember what the Quaid said to the youth, ‘I look forward to you as the real makers of Pakistan. Create amongst yourselves complete unity and solidarity. Set an example of what the youth can do. Your main occupation should be to devote your attention to your studies. With faith, discipline and selfless devotion to duty, there is nothing worthwhile that you cannot achieve.’

“I am going to light my share of candles today. This is what our country needs more than firecrackers and parties.” The children stood silently, then Junaid said, “I will help you too. There is no better cause and no better way to celebrate the Independence Day.”

First Published in Dawn, Young World August 12th, 2017

An Unwelcome Guest

“Fahd, have you brushed your teeth?” “Yes mom.” Fahd yelled back from his bedroom.

“Okay, son, then good night.” “Good night mom,” Fahd replied slipping into bed, grinning.

He had fooled his mom again. He hadn't brushed his teeth. In fact, he hadn't brushed them in the morning either. He had got up rather late and instead of bothering to clean his teeth properly with toothbrush and toothpaste , he had just rinsed his mouth and rushed out of the bathroom. Not bothering to brush his teeth had become a habit now and while his toothbrush looked new and shiny in the blue ceramic mug on the bathroom shelf, his teeth looked yellow and slightly stained.

Sometime around midnight, Fahd woke up with a start. What had just happened?? He saw a small impish creature looming in front of his eyes. It was holding a spear like thing in his hand. The tiny creature pointed his spear towards Fahd, and the frightened boy felt a sharp jabbing pain on the side of his head and cheek.

“Ow, Ow!! Stop that!” The creature laughed mercilessly and danced about in the air.

“Hello, Fahd. How are you feeling?” It cackled. “Who are you and what you doing in my bedroom?” Fahd asked straining to see clearly in the dark.

“I am your guest and you invited me to come here,” replied the creature. “What? That’s impossible. I don’t know you and I would never invite a…a terrible, ugly and cruel monster like you into my bedroom, “Fahd spluttered.

“But you did, dear boy,” replied the cheeky little creature still dancing in front of Fahd’s eyes. “Are you calling me a liar?|”

“I am telling you. I DID NOT invite you, “Fahd replied furiously.

“Well, you are a little liar, aren’t you?”Said the creature slyly. “You lie everyday whenever your parents ask you if you have brushed your teeth or not. You trade your sandwiches and chicken nuggets for lollipops and candies in school and let your mom think that you eat a healthy lunch.”

Fahd felt very ashamed as well as scared. This creature seemed to know his habits quite well.

“How did I invite you? I mean, did I send an email or a letter or call you by phone?” Fahd asked timidly.

“Oh no, you invite me every time you don’t brush your teeth. Whenever you eat sticky toffees, gummy sweets and lollipops and don’t bother to even rinse your mouth, you send out an invitation to me,” it replied smugly.

Just then, the creature lifted his spear and Fahd again felt a horrible pain on the side of his face again. “Ouch!! Stop that,” he yelled.

“Sorry I can’t. You see you have invited me into your life and now you will have to face the consequences. I am not a pleasant guest to have around and it is quite difficult to get rid of me once I come to stay,” the little monster replied.

Poor Fahd was feeling awful by now. His cheek and neck were throbbing and it hurt even to turn his head. “You still haven’t told me who you are, “he cried desperately, holding a hand to his cheek. “Tch, tch. Haven’t you recognized me as yet? I am Tooth-Ache. Children who don’t brush their teeth regularly and do not practice good oral hygiene habits get to know me very well. I am a great friend to bacteria and plaque that live in your mouth. I like to live in cavities in the teeth and today I have come to stay in the home that you have provided for me,” the creature answered and loomed towards Fahd.

Fahd yelled and tumbled out of his bed and rushed to his parents’ room. His parents were very worried to see Fahd’s face which had swollen due to the massive tooth-ache. They all passed a terrible night.

Next day his mom took him to the dentist who gave Fahd a long lecture about taking care of his teeth and dangers of not brushing them properly. He had to have the cavities filled and it was not a happy experience.

“Now remember Fahd. You must brush your teeth twice a day, especially before going to bed. Also brush them after eating sweets, chocolates and toffees etc. or at least rinse your mouth thoroughly with water. Eat lots of fruits and vegetables and avoid snacking on sugary food stuffs and fizzy drinks that are harmful for the teeth.”

Fahd listened to the dentist’s advice carefully. After all he didn't want any more unwelcome visitors at night. I am sure neither would you!

First published in Dawn, Young World, March 19th, 2015

The Brave Little Dog

Little Sally whined softly while Susan bought an ice cream from the ice cream seller. Sally, the little puppy did not like the look of the scruffy guy who was smiling shiftily at the children crowded around his cart. Her doggy senses were giving her bad vibes but the children chattered happily as they handed coins and notes to the ice cream seller.

Susan’s father had brought Sally as a present for her sixth birthday and the two adored each other and were always inseparable. The only time the two were apart was when Susan went to her kindergarten school. 


Sally would wait mournfully all morning with her silky head on her front paws till she would hear the horn of the school bus. Then she would tear down the street to welcome Susan home. All day long, Sally followed Susan like a faithful shadow. She even slept in a little basket in Susan’s room at night.

After buying their ice creams, the children went away in ones and twos. Susan also turned away, tugging at the wrapper with her little fingers.

“Hey, little girl, you forgot your change,” the ice cream seller called her back. “Come with me, I’ll get you the money from my van.”

Busy licking the ice cream, Susan followed the man to the back of the van. She looked up with fright when another man pulled her quickly inside the van. Before she could yell or react, the man had put a sack over her head and closed the doors of the van. The ice cream seller quickly got inside too and drove off.

Sally barked and yelped but the street was quiet and deserted. Sally started following the van as it sped away. On and on it went, past the dainty houses, the tiny shops, the green fields and the farm-houses. Sally’s little legs felt tired and heavy but she knew in her doggy heart that her mistress was in trouble.

Finally, the van stopped outside a ramshackle house. The two men dragged the frightened little girl inside where a shabby old woman was busy washing dishes.

“Here she is, ma,” said one of the men. “Take care of her while we send the ransom note to her rich daddy.”

Meanwhile, Sally tried to follow the men inside but found the door locked. Her keen nose picked up the smell of her beloved mistress. She turned away from the door and started running back all the way to Susan’s house.

Susan’s mother stood in the garden, looking extremely worried. She had asked all the children whether anyone had seen Susan but nobody had a clue. All that could be seen on the street was melted ice cream. She called Susan’s father who immediately informed the police. By the time, the policemen arrived, Susan’s parents were sick with worry.

Sally limped up to Susan’s father and tugged at his trousers. He was talking to the policeman and tried to shoo the little dog away and even kicked her once when she wouldn’t let go.

Susan’s mother picked up the little dog. “Do you know where she is?” she asked with tears in her eyes.

“Were the two of them together all afternoon?” asked the burly policeman “Oh yes, they are inseparable.”

Sally would not calm down. She barked and yelped and kept on running towards the door and then returned to tug at their clothes.

“I think she knows something. Come on little dog. Tell us where your mistress is,” the policeman patted Sally on her head and opened the door. Sally tore outside and barked excitedly.

Without wasting a moment, they all got into a couple of cars and followed Sally. Sally ran and ran once again past the houses, the market and the fields till they reached the farmhouse. She stopped near the fence and whined softly. The police then took control. They made Susan’s parents wait in the car while they approached the house from all sides. One of the constables kicked down the door and quickly nabbed the two men and their mother while they were still quarrelling over the ransom note.

As soon as the door went down, Sally rushed inside and made a beeline for one of the rooms where she could sense her mistress. A policeman unlocked the door and found Susan inside. The little girl was frightened, but unhurt. Her parents were extremely happy to have found her and hugged her and her brave little dog tightly.

When they reached home, the neighbours and their children had all gathered outside Susan’s home to welcome her back. The police chief looked at the young group and addressed them:

“Children, you must remember not to stay outside on the streets alone. When outside your home, you must stay together in a group and older children should see to it that younger ones go home safely. It is better that your parents or some other adult buys ice cream and toys from street vendors for you. Never accompany a stranger to his car or inside a house.

“I am sure you know that you should never to talk to strangers nor accept toys, gifts or any sweets from them. So from now on, will you all look out for each other?”

“Yes, we will!” the children replied in a loud chorus. I hope you all will too!

First Published in Dawn, Young World, February 13th, 2015

The Brave Young Soldier

Zawar jammed the green cap on his head. His bright eyes were shining with joy and pride.

“How do I look, grandpa?” He turned an eager face towards his grandfather.

“Just like a brave fauji jawan (young soldier),” his grandfather replied fondly and Zawar beamed happily. Standing upright on the donkey cart, he saluted the grazing cows, the roadside beggar, the green fields, the grand old trees and even the bleating goats that he saw on the way.

Zawar and his grandfather supplied milk to the army base near their village. Everyday, before dawn, the little boy would help his grandfather milk the cows and cart it to the base canteen. Captain Khalid had befriended the young lad and gifted his old, worn out cap to him. When they reached home, Zawar rushed to show his cap to his mother who was churning butter.

The following evening, a stranger called Durab came to the village. He told the villagers that he wanted to buy some land. He toured the whole area and met everyone. He was terribly interested in Zawar when the old munshi told him that they supplied milk to the army base. He was very friendly but Zawar did not like him. He felt that there was a cunning look in his eyes. Mr Durab asked a lot of questions about the soldiers but the young boy grew silent and unresponsive.

Mr Durab was staying in the little village inn. The next day he again came to Zawar's house.

“Well, boy,” he said. “Would you like to earn some money?”

Zawar did not reply. They were poor but he did not trust Mr Durab.

Mr Durab gave him a gaily wrapped box. “Do me a little favour, boy. Tomorrow morning when you go to supply milk, give this mithai (sweets) to the guards. Our soldiers are so brave. I want to show my love and respect for them.”

Zawar took the box. It was very heavy.

Mr Durab handed him a shiny watch. “This is for you for being such a good boy. If you do me this favour, I'll bring a nice, fat envelope full of money for you.”

Zawar again had an uneasy feeling but the watch felt nice on his slim, brown wrist.

“Don't tell anyone. Ok?” He patted Zawar on the head and went away. On an impulse Zawar decided to follow him. Mr Durab slowly went up the narrow, dusty road. It seemed as if he was not going anywhere in particular. However, when he reached a little forest at the end of the village, he gave a little whistle. To Zawar's immense surprise, the old beggar came out. They talked in low voice and Zawar held his breath.

“What can they be talking about?” he thought.

The two men looked around and went into the forest. Zawar followed and saw them enter an old, abandoned hunting lodge. He went around cautiously and heard more voices. He peeped in through the grilled window and saw Mr Durab and the old beggar with another person. They were eating and talking in a language he did not understand. He snooped some more and in another room he saw something that made his blood run cold. On the floor, there were some weapons and uniforms.

Suddenly Zawar knew that they were enemy spies. He looked around desperately. He could not tackle three men and he was too far away from his village to call anyone for help. There was only one thing to do. As quick as lightning, he darted forward. The three men looked up in alarm. Before they could move, Zawar slammed shut the heavy iron door and bolted it. With trembling fingers, he took the heavy lock from the gate and locked it too. The men were shouting, kicking and hurling threats but Zawar quickly sped towards the army base. He was afraid that those angry men would escape and come after him.

At the base, he poured out his story to Captain Khalid. Hardly believing his ears, he called his superiors and then everything happened very quickly. They raided the hunting lodge where the three furious and frustrated men were still locked up and arrested them.

Zawar threw the watch at Mr Durab. “We lay down our lives for Pakistan, Mr Durab. No amount of money can make us betray our country.” The prisoners glared at the young boy who had ruined their evil plans to create chaos.

Later, Zawar was given a medal for his bravery in a special ceremony. But the best reward for the little fauji jawan (young soldier) was the scholarship to study in the best cadet academy and a chance to serve his country.

Short story: The Blue Ribbon

“Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we often might win, by fearing to attempt.”  William Shakespeare

Ali Noor stared at the students in the parade ground with a hungry look in his eyes. It was a clear, sunny day and the rehearsals for the Annual Sports Day were in full swing. All his school-mates were busy marching on the field, their footsteps perfectly matching the beat of the drum. 

Some were rehearsing acrobatics while others were practising relay and sack racing. The parade leaders were twirling their batons while the Sports Teacher supervised the practice session. Each student was trying his utmost to display his strength and agility. The whole place was abuzz with noise, colour and excitement.

Ali Noor sat alone under an old tree. Every fibre of his being wanted to be on that sports field, running and marching and proudly raising the red and gold school banner but a tragic reality prevented him from doing so. Ali Noor had been paralysed in his infancy by polio. He belonged to the tribal areas and had not been vaccinated.

When he was five years old, polio had struck and left his left leg useless. His father, a wealthy carpet dealer had left no stones unturned for his son’s health but to no avail. Extensive physiotherapy had given him some use of his lower limbs but Ali Noor would never regain full mobility. 

Later, his father decided to shift to Islamabad and Ali Noor was enrolled in a new school. He was a quiet, studious boy but a bit of a loner. He did not want to be pitied or get involved in students’ activities so he shunned all friendships and liked to be alone dreaming of all the things that he could not do.  

Just then, something landed at his feet with a thud, snapping him out of his reverie. He looked down at the black and white football near his well-polished shoes. He wanted to kick hard at it to vent out his frustration but as usual his left leg refused to act. Ali Noor heard running footsteps and swallowed his tears of bitterness. He looked up and saw Zaheer, captain of the school sports team who had come to retrieve his football. 

“Hello Ali. How ya doing?” Zaheer asked cheerfully. Unlike Ali Noor, his shoes and pants were covered with dust and grass stains marred his white and gray uniform.

“It must be tough for you, sitting here all alone.” Zaheer added conversationally.

Bitter words sprung up in Ali’s throat. He knew that Zaheer had not meant to be unkind but his words hurt nonetheless. He looked at Zaheer with resentment, tinged with envy. Zaheer was tall, athletic and extremely well built. If seeing him run after the ball during school hours was not enough, Ali Noor had to bear the sight of him playing every evening as well. 

They lived across the street from each other. Every evening, while Ali Noor was bent over his books, he heard Zaheer and his friends playing cricket or dribbling the football on the concrete road outside. This was usually accompanied by shouts of joy, laughter and high-fives. Ali Noor would draw his curtains in an attempt to block out the sight of these boys enjoying themselves but the sound of running footsteps would continue to torment him. 

“What would you know about what’s tough for me, Zaheer?” he asked bitterly. 

Zaheer’s smile faded when he saw Ali Noor’s stony face. Ali’s hostile gaze had made him uncomfortable. He was a good natured boy who made friends easily. He was highly revered by his coach and class-mates for his athleticism but this attention had not made him vain. 

He did not know how to respond to Ali’s blatant antagonism so he shrugged and tucked his football under his arm. He turned to race back toward his team-mates but something made him check. He was struck by the anguished look in Ali’s eyes. He came back towards Ali and looked down at his crippled class-mate.

“Listen, Ali,” he said earnestly. ”Would you like to compete in a race?”

Ali Noor’s face darkened with anger. He felt sure that Zaheer was making fun of his disability. 

“Yes, Zaheer,” he replied sarcastically.” Maybe we should have a wheelchair race and I’ll be the only participant and we’ll see who runs the fastest.”

“I did not mean to hurt your feelings, Ali,” Zaheer added gently.” We are having a three-legged race. If you agree to be my partner, you’ll be able to participate in the sports day with the rest of the school. I’ll talk to the coach.”

Zaheer’s words left Ali speechless. He was suddenly ashamed of his outburst. 

“It’s not possible, Zaheer. I’ll slow you down and you’ll lose the race.”

“Maybe. But maybe I’ll win a friend, instead.” 

Ali Noor’s head was suddenly filled with visions of him running alongside the school’s sports captain. He wanted to run, to feel the wind on his face and to feel that rush of adrenalin. He imagined himself racing towards the finish line, faster than anyone else……

The coach’s shrill whistle brought him down to the earth. He looked down at his leg encased in a metal and wood brace, deformed and shrunken. He let out a half-laugh, half-sob sound.

“No, Zaheer. As I said, it’s not possible. Other students will either pity me or mock my efforts and I can’t face that.”

As Zaheer tried to convince him, Ali Noor gathered his crutches and turning his back on Zaheer, walked away.


Later in the evening Ali sat in front of the TV, flipping channels morosely.  The door-bell chimed and a few seconds later, his mother led in Zaheer.

“Come on, champ. At least give it a try.” Zaheer bent down and forced Ali Noor to stand up 

Ignoring Ali’s protests, Zaheer firmly led him outside. It was dinner time and the street was deserted. Ali Noor tried to extricate himself from Zaheer’s clutches once again.

“Go on, son. At least give it a try.” It was his mother’s gentle voice that made Ali straighten up his shoulders.

“Oh all right then. Whatever you say,” he capitulated

Zaheer tied Ali Noor’s left leg to his right leg. With their arms around each others shoulders, they tried to run a three legged race. It was extremely slow going. Ali’s movements were slow and awkward and he kept tripping over. 

“It’s no use, Zaheer. Maybe you should find a new partner,” Ali panted. 

But Zaheer would not let him quit. Next evening and every evening after that, the two of them practiced under the light of the street-lamps. Gradually, their movements became more coordinated and their friendship grew.  While Ali learned to appreciate Zaheer’s “never-say-die” attitude, Zaheer too learned to value all those simple things which he had always taken for granted…. the ability to run, jump and dribble and kick a ball. 

Finally, the Sports Day arrived. Ali Noor was extremely nervous. He looked at the spectators’ pavilion which was filled to its capacity. His own parents were also there.  As the commentator announced the start of the three-legged race, the students took their positions at the starting line. Ali Noor’s anxiety gave way to pure dread and panic. He looked at the blue ribbon stretched across the finishing line and it seemed miles and miles away. He imagined himself sprawled on the sports field and all the people laughing and jeering at him.

“I can’t do it, Zaheer. I am sorry.” He turned away but Zaheer grasped his arm firmly.

“Listen, Ali. Sports isn't about running fast or jumping high. It is about team spirit and giving your best when the chips are down. Right now your team needs you and if you quit, I’ll have to forfeit too.”

Ali looked up to where his parents were sitting. More than anything else, today he wanted to make his parents proud. He unclenched his hands and gave a thumbs-up to Zaheer. The whistle blew and they all set off. Ali saw the contestants on his right tumble and fall in a comical heap. People applauded and cheered them. 

The contestants to his left were also having a difficult time synchronizing their hops. Filled with a sudden feeling of exhilaration, Ali grasped Zaheer’s shoulders even more firmly and they propelled each other forward. Faster and faster, they hopped till the blue ribbon loomed ahead. Ali stretched his hand forward and to his delight, they were the first one to cross the line. 

The whole school stood up to applause his remarkable feat. Ali and Zaheer embraced each other as their team-mates surrounded them, slapping their backs and hugging them.  Ali Noor saw his father on his feet clapping hard, unashamed tears of joy rolling down his cheeks. His mother too looked at him with pride and love. 

“Thanks Zaheer,” Ali wanted to say more but words eluded him.

“No sweat, champ. Maybe you should train for the sprint race now,” Zaheer joked.

Ali grinned and took his crutches from the assistant coach. He had learnt to laugh at his disability and not wallow in self-pity. 

After all, isn't life all about overcoming the disadvantages and surmounting the setbacks? What would life be if we had no courage to attempt anything?

Let's Make A Difference: A short story

“There is no happiness except in the realization that we have accomplished something.” Henry Ford 

Ibraheem sat alone in his classroom with an open book in front of him. It was recess time and all the other children were outside. He heard their chatter and the thump-thump of a basketball being dribbled in the playground. Then a shrill whistle from their sports teacher pierced the air as he tried to line up the boys. But Ibraheem’s mind was on the poem they had just read in the Urdu class. 

The poem was about little raindrops. Each raindrop feared that it was too small and insignificant to bring any relief to the dry, parched earth. They all hesitated while man and beast suffered alike under the scorching sun. But their leader told them that if they all fall together, they could ease the suffering and bring respite to the people. When the raindrops fell together, the sun-baked earth rejoiced and the people celebrated Allah’s bounty 

Ibraheem’s mind reflected upon this story and an idea began to evolve in his mind. His pencil beat a steady staccato against his desktop till the ringing of the bell signalled that the recess was over. He hastily ate his lunch and gulped down a mouthful of water as there was an onrush of footsteps. The boys came in and Ibraheem hastily brushed away the crumbs from his shirt and got ready for the next class. He was ready to put his idea to test.

The next class was Social Studies. Their teacher, Sir Imtiaz was a young, idealistic person. In their last session, he had asked the students to come up with ideas for their social work project. Such projects were initiated and funded by the school to create social welfare awareness in the students.

“So, does anyone have any ideas that would bring about a positive change in lives of people around you? 

As Ibraheem hesitated, Saad’s hand shot up in the air. The students groaned in unison. Saad was the class clown and his suggestion was sure to be an outrageous one.

“Yes, Saad. Let’s hear your idea.” 

“Well Sir, I think it would be a great idea if our school remained open for only a couple of days per week. It is such a simple idea and would surely bring happiness to many of the students,” Saad suggested a little cheekily.

Amongst the laughter and the applause that followed, Sir Imtiaz said gravely, “I will forward this idea to the principal with your compliments, Saad.” 

As Saad’s cheeky grin faded away, he added a little kindly “Let’s hear some more suggestions“

Sir Imtiaz looked at his class. A few of the students yawned and looked bored. Some looked at each other for inspiration while others had a vacant expression on their faces. Slowly, Ibraheem’s hand went up.

“Yes Ibraheem. What do you have to say?” Sir Imtiaz asked.

“Sir, there is a vacant plot of land at the end of Jauhar Lane. It was once a park but now it is abandoned and in terrible shape. I think, that if we all work together, we can restore that land into a children’s park…..”

His words were greeted with a chorus of dissent and protests.

“Are you crazy?” objected Hassan. “That ground is being used as a dumping area for trash and rubbish for years.”

“My father says it is a haven for drug addicts at night,” added Sohail.

“”What about all the muck and slime? How do you propose we clean that up, Ibraheem?” Ali asked sarcastically.

“Boys, boys,” Sir Imtiaz intervened. ”Let us at least hear what Ibraheem has to say.”

“I know that the plot is in a terrible shape. That is why we will try to clean it up. Instead of being a breeding place for flies and mosquitoes or a sanctuary for drug addicts, it will be a clean and fun place for the children,” Ibraheem added a little diffidently.

“I think it is a perfect project for our Social Work Week. But how do you propose to go about it?” asked Sir Imtiaz

“Well, Sir, if we all work together, we can clean the debris. Saad’s father owns a plants’ nursery. If his men help us to cultivate the grass and plant a few trees, we’ll have a nice park in no time. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy,”

“If the broken fence is fixed and painted, it can provide a secure boundary,” Haider piped in.

“We can ask Ghulam Ali to build a few see-saws and swings,” added Fawad. ”We’ll all help.”

Ghulam Ali was the school handyman. He repaired the broken desks and chairs, mended windows broken by sailing cricket balls and prepared the backdrop sets for their school‘s Annual Drama. He was an extremely skilled craftsman and could make anything out of wood.

All the boys sat up and looked extremely excited. They started discussing the project in earnest and in no time they had evolved a clear strategy. Lists of jobs were prepared and all duties were relegated according to interest and aptitude.

The students were given one week off from studies. 

Next day, they arrived in old, plain clothes and the school bus took them to the vacant plot. It was littered with old newspapers, discarded shoes and clothes, cans, broken bottles, cigarette butts, pieces of junk and a few syringes. The boys donned protective gloves and overalls and attacked the debris with gusto. They used brooms and rakes to collect the trash and put them in huge trash bags. There were a few groans and grumbles but on the whole everyone was rather enthusiastic. Most students were happy to be outdoors instead of pouring over boring school books. 

Five hours later, they had got rid of some of the worst debris. They boarded their bus and went back tired but satisfied. Next day, Saad’s father sent some of his expert gardeners to help the boys. First they mowed the wild, overgrown grass. Then they raked and weeded the land and spread a new layer of fertile soil. They pruned the existing hedges and planted some new rose bushes. Pesticides were sprayed where needed and some decaying plants were completely uprooted. Everybody worked hand in hand and an amazing change could already be seen as the land transformed before their very eyes. 

Meanwhile a group of students worked under Ghulam Ali’s guidance to mend the fence and set up the swings. Others cleaned the green and slimy fountain in the centre of the park. Their efforts paid off when a smooth, white structure emerged. 

People from nearby apartments came out to see what was happening. They were amazed by what they saw. Where there was once filth and rubbish, now there was a vast expanse of freshly mowed land with neatly trimmed hedges. The newly painted bright green fence gleamed in the sunlight. The tree bases were also painted white with a little red border to give a neat and orderly appearance. 

Like little raindrops that quenched the thirst of the burning earth, the boys worked in unison to provide the children of the area with better and safer playing facilities. At the end of the week, the park was opened for public. All the students received medals for their hard work and efforts but their best reward was the laughter and shouts of joy of little children as they scampered about in their new park.

A Hero's Tale

Ali Noor looked at the little group gathered outside the school with dread. He hated this part of the school morning. 

Everyday, before the bell rang for assembly, Junaid and his little band of bullies would gather near the school gate and wait for Ali Noor’s arrival. As Ali would hobble across the paved sidewalk, their group would stare and laugh at him.

“Here he comes,” he heard Junaid say excitedly. “Get ready, Hamid. It’s your turn today.” 

Ali Noor felt cold with fear. “What are they planning to do today?” He wondered.

He did not have to wait for long. As he entered the gate, Hamid got behind him, exaggerating his every movement. He dragged his feet and then hopped as all the boys erupted in loud laughter and chuckles. They considered it all a big joke.

Ali Noor felt tears of rage and helplessness spring in his eyes. He was extremely humiliated and wanted to hit them but he was alone and crippled and they were four in number. He silently hitched his bag on his shoulder and moved towards the school building while the boys behind him were still doubled with laughter.

Near the brick building, Faraz was waiting for his friend. He took one look at his Ali’s face and exclaimed 

“They have been making fun of you again, haven’t they Ali?  Why don’t you report them to the principal?” he asked angrily.

Ali Noor shook his head. He was fourteen years old and he did not want to seem like a cry baby.

“No Faraz. It will only make things worse. Forget it”

“They don’t know anything about me. They just don’t understand.” Ali Noor would keep reminding himself.  If only Junaid stopped picking on him; he was sure the others would back off as well. Junaid came from a rich, affluent family and was bit of a spoiled brat.

After school, Junaid was again waiting for him at the gate.

"Hey, Ali. Are you the new hunchback of Notre-Dame?”

Ali silently passed Junaid and was stepping around others when Junaid put his foot out. It caused Ali to trip and fall comically on the sidewalk. Laughing loudly the bullies went away.

Ali Noor was fed up with their cruel jokes! This time he could not hold back the tears.  Three years ago, Ali and his family had faced a life changing situation and ended up in Islamabad. Ali was new in his school but no one yet knew his story and it was hard to talk about the traumatic incident.

When he entered his house, his mother saw the tears and instantly enveloped her brave son in a warm hug. "Ali, isn’t Friday the Assembly Day at your school?  I have an idea that might just stop those bullies from making fun of you," she said. 

Ali Noor looked at his mother with doubt but as he listened to her suggestion, he slowly nodded. Together, mother and son started working on their project. 

Next morning, the school bell was ringing as Ali Noor and his mother entered the school with large posters. While Ali went to his class to deposit his school bag, his mother went to the Principal’s office to talk to him. Making his way to his class; he stumbled once again over Junaid’s feet which he had stuck out just as Ali was passing.  Ali Noor just picked himself up with dignity and went to the Assembly area. 

A peon was setting up the posters on tripod stand. After the prayer and school anthem, the principal announced:

“Today we are having a special show and tell segment. A young hero will tell you his story and I hope everyone will pay attention,” he added sternly.

.Ali Noor limped up the stairs and began his story

“As you all know, a horrific earthquake occurred in October 2005 in northern areas of Pakistan. I was in my school in Balakot and I saw death and devastation all around me. Many of my class fellows were trapped under rubble.

I could hear their shouts of help but there was chaos everywhere. I had stepped outside for a glass of water and that saved my life. I tried to move slabs and stones with my bare hands. Some people soon gathered but the passage was too narrow and many students were hurt. 

I was slender enough to go down and drag some of my injured fellow students out. Again and again I crawled under and pulled one student out at a time. There was another aftershock and a slab fell on my back. I was later rescued by army personnel but extensive damage had occurred. I have been in physiotherapy for the past three years and have recently joined school again. I was not always a cripple. You can look at the photographs….”

There was pin drop silence as students stared at Ali Noor with awe and admiration. A few teachers wiped their tears. Junaid and his friends were really ashamed. Suddenly Junaid stood up and went to Ali Noor and embraced him in a tight hug. 

“You are a true hero, Ali. Can you forgive me?”

All was forgotten and the two boys became best friends.

Not Such a Good Idea After All!

Khalid clutched his stomach and let out a loud groan.

“I really can’t go to school today, Mother. I have a terrible stomach ache.”

His mother looked at him with concern and some exasperation.

“Khalid, how can you have a stomach ache now? You were absolutely fine last night,” his mother said, checking his forehead for any sign of fever and finding none.

“It just started suddenly,” Khalid answered feebly.

“I’ll make you some herbal tea. I have a very important meeting at office today. Will you be all right by yourself?” she asked, feeling rather worried.

“Yes, mother. Please go to your office. I’ll be fine,” Khalid quickly assured her.

As soon as he heard his mother leave, Khalid jumped out of the bed with a whoop. It was Friday morning and Khalid had a very special reason for not attending school. You see, on last Friday of every month, his math teacher Sir Hassan would take a special test to see how much mathematical concepts his students had understood. 

Sir Hassan was a very dedicated teacher and would gladly spend hours explaining theory and numericals to the students. He did not mind going over the same thing again and again till he was certain that each and every student was on board. But he expected the same level of commitment from his students too.

If anyone did not do well in his special tests he would make sure the student stayed behind in recess and sports classes. Sir Hassan would then coach him on a one to one basis. Khalid was quite intelligent but quite careless. 

His mother was sometimes very disappointed with his lack of commitment to his studies and often urged him to balance his play time and studies but her reminders fell on deaf ears. 

At home he spent most of his time glued to his computer games. He had not studied a single word last evening and spent the entire time flying virtual planes and shooting down the enemy. Now he dreaded giving the test and had faked a stomach ache to avoid it. 

Feeling very pleased with himself, Khalid roamed the house in his pajamas. He made his own breakfast and ate it in front of the television. 

“My poor friends,” he thought smugly. “They’ll be sweating over the difficult questions right at this moment while I am lazing around.”

He watched some cartoons and an action movie. By 11 o’ clock, he had started yawning so he switched on his computer. After an hour or so, even his computer games had lost their excitement. By 2 o’clock, he was so bored that he started thinking of his school

“Even Sir Hassan’s most horrid test would be preferable to this boredom,” he thought morosely. “At least in school, I have my friends and so many other activities.”

Out of sheer boredom, he took out his school books and started studying. He was extremely glad when his mother came home in the evening. 

Next Monday, Khalid went to school bright and early. He had a written application from his mother to explain his absence on Friday so he hoped that Sir Hassan would not be too angry. As soon as he entered the school, his friends surrounded him.

“Where were you on Friday, you idiot?” His best friend, Ali grabbed him. “Why did you miss the test?”

“Was Sir Hassan very angry?” Khalid asked nervously.

“No, silly,” Akbar replied. “After he marked the test papers, he invited us all to go with him to PAF Museum.”

“He said we had worked very hard so he had sought special permission from the principal. It was a grand surprise. We went by school bus and had a tremendous time,” added Zohaib.

“Sir Hassan really is great,” Ali raved. “He knows a lot about air crafts. His father was a pilot. We saw wonderful fighter air crafts, lots of weapons and machinery.”

“Do you know the plane used by Muhammed Ali Jinnah is also on display there?” Zeeshan piped in.

“We also did some shopping at the souvenir shop. See this?” Ali proudly showed poor Khalid a small, bright fighter craft model.

“Yes. Sir Hassan loaned us some money……See,” they all crowded around Khalid showing him their proud collection of shirts, pens, key chains and aircraft models.

Khalid was extremely disappointed and felt very sorry for himself. His ambition was to become a fighter pilot when he grew up. Now he had missed a golden chance to visit PAF complex with his friends. Missing school just was not such a good idea after all. 

“Oh why didn't I study for the test? Then I wouldn't have to deceive my mother or miss such a wonderful trip.” Khalid thought guiltily.

Khalid tore up the false application. He went to Sir Hassan and apologized for his absence. Sir Hassan smiled at the sad, little face and forgave him.

That evening, he surprised his mother with a big hug, a perfect test score and a card that said “I am Sorry.” 

Maya's Bracelet

Maya’s granny had given her a beautiful gold bracelet on her thirteenth birthday. It had tiny rubies that glittered under the lights and a delicate clasp that could be opened. Maya felt extremely proud and grown up. She decided to wear her new bracelet to her school and brag about it to her friends. 

Maya’s mother told her many times that gold jewelry should be worn at special occasions only but Maya would not listen. When her mother wanted to put it in a safe place, Maya simply ignored her advice and would not take the bracelet off from her arm.

Next day Maya wore her bracelet to school. Students were not allowed to wear real gold jewelry in school but Maya pulled her long sweater sleeve over it during class hours. During recess time, she proudly showed her bracelet to her class fellows who crowded around her.

“Wow! It really is beautiful,” Sara exclaimed and Maya beamed.

“Is it really made of real gold?” Hira asked a bit enviously.

“Of course it is. Can’t you tell the difference? And it is very expensive too.” Maya bragged arrogantly.

“Well, you are not supposed to bring jewelry to school so you better not boast about it or I’ll tell the teacher,” Hira retorted angrily.

Maya was afraid that Hira might carry out her threat so she quickly pulled her sweater sleeve over it. Glaring at Hira, she went away to play with her friends.

When she went back home her mother again asked her to put away the bracelet safely as they had to go out for some shopping. Maya pretended that she had not heard her mother and went to change her clothes. She tossed her uniform in the clothes basket and quickly put on her favorite jeans and shirt. They went shopping and later had tea at her aunt’s house. Maya wanted to show her beautiful bracelet to her cousin but she suddenly noticed that her bracelet was gone. 

Maya was horrified. She jumped up from her chair and looked around the room. She searched under the sofa and behind the cushions. Her mother and aunt saw the commotion and hurried over. When Maya told her that her new bracelet was missing, they also joined in the search. 

Maya could not remember the last time when she had seen it so they checked the shopping bags and boxes. They searched the car and the garden. They went back to the shops and asked the shop keepers. They went to the school and searched the premises with the school peon. But the bracelet was nowhere to be found. 

Maya and her mother came back home feeling tired and dispirited. Her mother was silent and tight lipped. Maya was depressed and tearful.

“Oh why didn't I listen to my mother?” she thought guiltily. “If only I had not worn it to school and to the market. Now I’ll never find it.”

After dinner, Maya went to bed with troublesome thoughts crowding her head. “What will Granny think? She’ll be so disappointed in me. She’ll think I am not responsible enough. And it was so pretty and costly too.” Tears of sorrow and remorse welled up in her eyes and she cried herself to sleep.

Next morning, Maya got ready for school with a very heavy heart. As she picked up her dark green sweater, something fell out of its arm sleeve and rolled under the bed.

“Clink, thud.” 

Maya heard the metallic sound. She went down on her knees and peered under the bed. To her utter delight and amazement, it was her lost bracelet. Its clasp had come loose and opened when Maya had carelessly taken off her sweater and had got entangled in the wool’s weave. 

Maya yelled with joy and rushed off to tell her mother the good news. Her mother was also very happy. Maya hugged her mother tightly and gave her the bracelet for safe keeping. Bragging and boasting is not much fun if it comes with such heartache, she decided. 

Don’t you agree?

Shoe-Shine...a short story about honesty

Gul Zeb was only twelve years old when his entire world shattered around him. A powerful earthquake left him and his seven year old sister homeless, destitute and orphaned. Their house was reduced to a pile of rubble and along with their ailing grandfather; the two siblings were taken to a relief camp. Kind strangers took care of them, clothed and fed them as the two children and thousands others struggled to come to terms with their loss and misery.

Time passed and Gul Zeb and Zuhra came to Islamabad with their grandfather. They were placed in a temporary relief center. It was run by Mr. Azmat Ali, a kind man who tried to comfort them and ease their sufferings. Gul Zeb was sent to school but he hated living on charity. His father had always emphasized on hard work and Gul Zeb wanted to work for a living.

Seeing the young boy’s determination, Mr. Azmat gave him some money. Gul Zeb bought shoe brushes, polishes and some other supplies. Everyday after school, Gul Zeb would put his things in a worn out satchel and carry them to the market nearby. He made a placard bearing the words “SHOE-SHINE” which he used to place on a make shift counter.

Men would stop at his work-top to have their shoes cleaned and polished. Back and forth, back and forth, his brush would sweep away all the dirt and grime and bring shine on dusty shoes. Gul Zeb worked hard and was always awarded some money for his efforts. His thin shoulders would sometimes ache with all the effort and beads of perspiration would shine on his brow but he was satisfied He would spend some of his hard earned money on food and medicines and gave the rest to his grandfather for safe keeping.

In the evening, he would pack up his bag and go back to the centre. At night, he would tell Zuhra about the bustling market with its glittering wares, the shiny cars and the well-heeled men and women who shopped and dined there. Zuhra would listen to these accounts with fascination and wonder. The trauma of losing home and parents had left her weak and silent, but her brother did his utmost to amuse her and keep her happy.

One afternoon, there was a light drizzle. Gul Zeb was sitting on the pavement with his tools ready when a big, sleek car stopped near him. From it emerged Mr. Hussain Agha, a wealthy business tycoon. Mr. Agha had some last minute shopping to do before attending an important function and he was in a great hurry.

As he stepped out of his car, his foot went into a puddle and muddied his shoes. Cursing slightly, he came over to Gul Zeb’s counter. “Hurry boy. I don’t have much time,” he ordered brusquely. Gul Zeb bent over his shoes and quickly polished them. Without glancing back, he dropped a fifty rupee note in Gul Zeb’s lap. Gul Zeb eyes widened. He decided to wrap up his work early and buy a small doll for Zuhra before heaDeeng heading home.

As he packed up his supplies, he noticed a fat, glossy rectangular object wedged under his work stool. Puzzled, he picked it up and realized that it was a wallet. He opened it gingerly and the thick wad of money inside made him gasp. He snapped it shut quickly. He looked around to see if someone was watching and then tossed it in his satchel amid the shoe cleaning rags.

He went home. His grandfather was surprised to see him so early. Gul Zeb mumbled an excuse to explain his early return. Later that night, when everyone was asleep, he opened the wallet again. He took out the money cautiously and the crisp notes crackled in his trembling hands. Gul Zeb had never seen so much money in his life. He was sure that the wallet belonged to the rich man who had tipped him Rs.50 for his shoe polish..

“I can keep the money and no one would ever know,’” he thought.” I will spend it on Baba and Zuhra little by little. I will take Baba to a good doctor who might be able to cure his cough and Zuhra can have new dolls and maybe we can buy new blankets. Winter is almost here…”

But his innate honesty would not let him rest “Is this right thing to do? This money is not mine to spend. What should I do?” His grandfather’s bout of cough snapped him out of his reverie. He quickly stuffed the money back in the wallet and put it under his threadbare pillow. It made an uncomfortable lump under his head but Gul Zeb did not mind. He was not going to let this money out of his sight!!

That night, sleep did not come easily to Gul Zeb. He tossed and turned in his bed but peace eluded him. After a long time, he fell into a troubled slumber and dreamt of his parents. His mother, who used to teach Quran to the local girls when alive, appeared to be in tears. “I did not raise you to be a thief, Gul Zeb,” she seemed to be saying. “You cannot take what does not belong to you.” Gul Zeb’s father appeared equally sad. “The money might last for sometime, my son,” he said.” But the guilt will last forever.”

Gul Zeb woke up with a start. He was sweating all over. How real did his dream seem. He felt as if his parents were in the  room with him, comforting him and urging him to do the right thing. As the sound of the fajr azaan rang outside, Gul Zeb opened the wallet once again. He fished out its contents but this time he did not look at the money. He found some cards and some receipts in the wallet but best of all he found a photograph of the wallet’s owner with his name and address.

Next day was Sunday and Gul Zeb woke up early. After a hurried breakfast, he snatched his satchel and bade a quick farewell to Zuhra and his grandfather. He had become familiar with the streets of Islamabad and found the address quite easily. He was rather daunted by the sight of the mansion and the two guards that stood in front of the gate.

One of the guards, thinking that he was a beggar tried to shoo him away but Gul Zeb stood his ground. “I have something of great importance to give to Mr. Agha,” he said. The guards were surprised at his audacity. One of them, a kindly old man that reminded Gul Zeb of his grandfather, told him to wait outside while he himself went in to get permission from Mr. Agha. Moments later he returned and took Gul Zeb inside.

Mr. Agha was having breakfast in his sprawling, green lawn. Gul Zeb approached him with a hammering heart. The opulence around him had unnerved him. He fished for the wallet from his satchel and handed it to Mr. Agha. Timidly, he explained how it got into his possession.

“Do you know what is inside this wallet?” he asked the trembling boy. .

“Yes, sir. I had opened it. But I did not take anything from it,” he added quickly.

Mr. Agha was dumbfounded. He was used to dealing with corrupt officials who wanted to be bribed, dishonest friends who cheated on business deals and committed tax frauds and avaricious greedy relatives for whom amassing wealth was a lifelong ambition. But this simple act of honesty left him amazed.

“Sit down, my boy and tell me about yourself,” he said kindly.

Gul Zeb plopped down on the comfortable lawn chair and told him about his circumstances. Mr. Agha was much moved. “What would you like as a reward?” he asked next. Gul Zeb hesitated. He was tempted to ask for money for Zuhra’s doll and his grandfather’s blanket but he felt awkward doing so.

Seeing his hesitation, Mr. Agha gently urged him to ask for anything he wished for. When Gul Zeb did so, Mr. Agha was overcome with emotions. He thought about his two teen-age sons, always demanding more and more money for luxuries and self indulgence.

He hugged Gul Zeb and told him to bring his grandfather and Zuhra to his house. He promised to give them accommodation in the servant’s quarters and take care of their education and other needs.

“And little Zuhra will have as many toys as she wants and your grandfather can have the warmest blanket money can buy, my son,” he said.