Through every word, seeks to build bridges — one story, one voice, one moment of peace at a time.
THE STORY Between two villages—Noorabad to the north and Rehmatpur to the south—lay a wide, open field. Once, it had been the pride of both villages. Wheat grew tall there. Children ran freely. Farmers worked side by side, sharing tools, water, and laughter.
By M.Farooq21 days ago in Humans
THE STORY At the far end of a quiet village named Mehrun, there stood an old house unlike any other. It had two front doors.
THE STORY The railway station of Mehrabad did not sleep—it only waited. During the day, it looked tired. Dust settled on the benches, stray dogs curled into shadows, and tea stalls shut their wooden doors as if the place itself needed rest. But at night, especially before the 2:15 a.m. train, the station woke with quiet urgency.
By M.Farooq23 days ago in Humans
THE STORY At the far edge of the town of Gulshanpur, where paved roads slowly turned into dusty lanes, stood two houses that had once felt like one home divided into two halves.
THE STORY Sarangpur was a town split by a wide, winding river. On the west bank lived the Khans, known for their storytelling, poetry, and traditional music. On the east bank lived the Shahids, skilled artisans who crafted wood, metal, and stone with unmatched precision.
By M.Farooq28 days ago in Humans
THE STORY The village of Noorabad lay between gentle hills and a winding river. Its homes were simple—clay walls, wooden doors, and roofs that caught the golden light of sunset. For generations, the village had been united by a tradition: every evening, someone would climb the hill at the edge of town and light the old lantern, a symbol of hope, guidance, and togetherness.
THE STORY Rahimabad was a small town, quiet and dusty, surrounded by low hills and winding roads. People knew each other, but they had stopped truly listening. Disagreements over land, water, and school management had slowly widened the gap between neighbors.
THE STORY The town of Karvanpur had long been famous for its vibrant market, a place where life flowed like a river between stalls of colorful spices, woven fabrics, clay pots, and hand-carved trinkets. Merchants greeted each other in the morning, families exchanged news, and children ran through the aisles playing games between the rows of goods.
By M.Farooq30 days ago in Humans
THE STORY The coastal village of Nayara had thrived for centuries on the bounty of the sea. Its harbor was alive with boats painted in bright colors, the scent of salt and fresh fish drifting through the narrow streets, and the rhythm of daily life measured by tides rather than clocks.
THE STORY The town of Mehrabad was once alive with movement and sound. Its streets were narrow and winding, lined with cobblestones, colorful shutters, and the scent of fresh bread wafting from bakeries. At the center of it all stood a tall clock tower, its bells ringing every hour, a heartbeat for the town.
THE STORY The village of Roshni lay nestled between golden fields of wheat and sunflowers, kissed by the sun every morning. For generations, it had been a place where neighbors shared meals, celebrated festivals together, and helped each other in times of need.
THE STORY The river Seren ran calmly between two villages: Willowbrook on the left bank and Mapleford on the right. Once, the villages had been one community. Children played together, merchants traded freely, and festivals were celebrated on the banks of the river. But a quarrel over land ownership decades ago had split the town in two.
By M.Farooqabout a month ago in Humans
