shahkar jalal
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And she was murdered.
Your watch had begun when two pistol shots broke the silence of the cemetery in the air. While spending the night in the house under the three trees, the moons flew away after hearing the sound of the shots. The first shot pierced the girl's bulging chest and sank her heart into the mattress on which she had been shot for the last time that night, because now she had to get up after the pig was blown out. The second shot also went to the grave in the middle of the night. The victim's name was Nadia and she was of the same age as Shabab. The killer's name was Chaudhry Khuda Bakhsh, whose hair had the sheen of silver strands. Before Nadia's chest was pierced, there were traces of the khakiness of the paddy and the purity of the fox in her eyes, and after the shot, the veiled innocence was revealed on that familiar face, while the innocence of the victim's legs was radiant. Even after her breathing stopped, it was thought that she was still in a deep sleep. She would wake up and take the alarm and disrupt the system of the ears, but it was just the ears Nadia had returned to the village three months ago after completing a four-year degree in physics from a government university in Lyallpur. She had accepted that the time had come for her to get married because her father would never allow her to get a job. He had to give her permission because, after all, he was the village Chaudhary, who owned four acres of land, two hundred buffaloes, high-bred horses, a tractor, and four kanals of land. There was something about him that seemed like the story of a king. According to the Podhry's self-made belief, if he allowed his daughter to get a job, her community and the village would be ostracized. Nadia was a poor girl, so she did not discuss the job with her father.
By shahkar jalal4 months ago in Criminal
A Muslim
It is raining heavily. It is the cold season. The morning dew spreads its leaves with pleasure. Tabani Tawra has prayed the morning prayer but is still sitting on the bed. The rosary beads are on the fire. The little ones are still sleeping. Tabani Tawra woke up and after a while she prayed, then she burst into tears. She gathered the bed, woke the children up, took them to the mosque and went to the animal house herself. Chamani left the house and went to the animal house. Abby, what have you done? It will crack. Tabani said. God will tell me. I will give you alms. It is winter. The same night of the year has passed. It will be rainy. Chamani will be with you. Now, do you see us working? If you fall, we will be in another sorrow.
By shahkar jalal4 months ago in Humans
The Silence of Ranjha
Not a day goes by in the village, whether young or old, men or women, that the name of Gunga is not mentioned, and there is no one, young or old, who does not visit Gunga at least once a day. Gunga is famous throughout the entire region because she has a large and famous shop selling Peew Masto in the village market, and Peew Masto is a daily necessity for everyone.
By shahkar jalal4 months ago in Fiction
Suffering and Hunger: A Son’s Struggle for Survival During the Days of Curfew
It was the day of pilgrimage. Like every other morning, I woke up to the call of dawn prayer. I washed, prayed my Sunnah, and left home for the mosque. Our small village sits between Mardan and Charsadda, and the mosque stands right along the main road.
By shahkar jalal4 months ago in Humans
The Broken Promise: A Tale of Love, Class, and Silent Suffering
Aslam was leaving his uncle’s house today — apologizing to everyone as if he would never return. Even if his uncle had lived for a thousand years, Aslam no longer felt like spending another moment there. The silence of the previous day, the silence that came from Shinu, still echoed painfully in his mind.
By shahkar jalal4 months ago in Humans
“The Fall of a King: When Power Meets the Heart”
There was a time when Malik Samundar Khan was so powerful that no one dared to approach him without permission. In his household, he was the last word. No one ever questioned his authority — not even his own father. Malik Sahib was the respected chief of the village, the owner of a grand palace, and the father of five sons, each holding senior government positions.
By shahkar jalal4 months ago in Families
Separation: When Love Turns to Silence
It was a cold winter night, long past midnight. A dim lamp flickered in the corner of the room. Azam lay on the sofa, his legs stretched out, one hand resting on his head, the other on the table. Between his fingers, a half-lit cigarette burned slowly.
By shahkar jalal4 months ago in Humans
Sleepy Eyes
The night was calm, heavy with the scent of autumn. In a small village house, Jamala Bibi lay on her bed with a rosary in one hand and prayer beads in the other. The half-moon cast a faint light across the room as she looked toward the door again and again, her heart waiting for someone who never came home on time.
By shahkar jalal4 months ago in Families
Mina Naz: The Price of Love and Honor
hey say love is the most powerful emotion— It can build empires or destroy families. Mina Naz was once the heart of her home, a girl adored by everyone. But when her love crossed the boundaries of family honor, her world turned upside down.
By shahkar jalal4 months ago in Humans
Sleepy Eyes
The night was calm, heavy with the scent of autumn. In a small village house, Jamala Bibi lay on her bed with a rosary in one hand and prayer beads in the other. The half-moon cast a faint light across the room as she looked toward the door again and again, her heart waiting for someone who never came home on time.
By shahkar jalal4 months ago in Families
