Azlan and the Clock Disaster

It was year 2030 and a chilly Friday evening in London, and 12-year-old Azlan sat in the living room, pretending to do his homework while secretly plotting his next "adventure." His 7-year-old sister, Irha, was busy munching on a bag of chips she wasn’t supposed to touch. Their parents were busy preparing for Saturday morning when guests were coming over to meet Grandma, who had just flown in all the way from Pakistan.

Grandma was the queen of the house. She brought the best mithai, had a million funny stories, and gave the warmest hugs. But this Friday night, Azlan wasn’t thinking about hugs or sweets—he had his eyes on the giant antique clock standing proudly in the corner of the living room.

The clock was over a hundred years old, or so Grandma claimed, with golden hands, a shiny glass door, and a pendulum that swung hypnotically back and forth. “It’s just a clock,” Irha said when she caught Azlan staring at it.

Azlan smirked. “It’s not just a clock. It’s a mystery waiting to be solved.”

Irha rolled her eyes. “You’re going to break something again, aren’t you?”

“Relax, Irha,” Azlan said confidently. “I’m a professional.”

Azlan opened the clock’s glass door and gave the pendulum a gentle push. Then he gave it a harder push. “It’s so... swingy,” he muttered, his curiosity growing.

“Azlan, no!” Irha whispered.

But it was too late. Azlan had already grabbed the pendulum with both hands and tried to sit on it like a swing. For three glorious seconds, he felt like a superhero. Then came the CRASH.

The pendulum snapped off, the clock hands froze, and pieces of the antique clock scattered across the floor. Irha gasped. “You’re doomed!”

“Shhh!” Azlan hissed, his heart racing. “Don’t tell anyone!” He frantically gathered the broken pieces and hid them behind the couch. “No one will even notice.”

Irha looked at him with disbelief. “Azlan, it’s a giant clock. Of course, they’ll notice!”

But Azlan wasn’t listening. He was too busy pretending nothing had happened.

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The next morning, chaos erupted. The family had overslept because the broken clock hadn’t rung its usual 7:00 AM chime.

“Azlan! Irha! Wake up!” Mom yelled, running around the house. “The guests are here!”

Grandma was still in her pajamas, Dad was trying to tidy up the living room, and Mom was frantically chopping vegetables in the kitchen. Irha, who wasn’t a morning person, stumbled out of her room with a pillow stuck to her hair.

The guests arrived to find an untidy house, no breakfast, and Grandma apologizing in Urdu for the chaos. “Zara late ho gaye aj subah. Clock ka kuch masla tha,” she explained, blaming the very clock Azlan had destroyed.

Azlan stayed quiet, feeling guiltier by the second. After the guests left, Mom noticed the broken clock.

“Azlan!” she shouted. “What happened to this?”

Azlan tried to play dumb. “What clock? I don’t even know what a clock is.”

“Don’t you dare,” Mom said, her eyes narrowing.

Finally, Azlan cracked. “Okay, okay! I broke it. I’m sorry!”

Mom sighed. “Azlan, you need to stop acting before thinking. Now, go to your room!”

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That night, Azlan had a brilliant idea. He grabbed Irha and called their cousins in Pakistan—8-year-old Kiswa, 6-year-old Mirha, and the tiny but bossy 5-year-old Shani Bhai—for a secret Zoom meeting.

“Guys,” Azlan began, “I broke the clock, and Mom is super mad. I need your help to fix it and make her happy again.”

Kiswa raised an eyebrow. “Wait, you broke the clock? Why were you even touching it?”

“I was... conducting an experiment,” Azlan said sheepishly.

“You were being an idiot,” Kiswa corrected, making everyone laugh.

Mirha leaned forward. “Okay, here’s the plan. We’ll guide you step by step to fix the clock. And Shani Bhai can plan a surprise party for your mom!”

“Wait, why is Shani planning anything?” Azlan asked.

“Because I’m the smartest,” Shani Bhai declared, eating a mango as he spoke.

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The next morning, the mission began. Following Kiswa’s instructions, Azlan and Irha pulled out the broken pieces of the clock.

“Azlan, the pendulum connects here,” Kiswa said, holding up a diagram she’d found online.

“Wait, is this the pendulum, or is this a—” Azlan started, holding up the wrong piece.

“That’s a spoon,” Irha interrupted. “Why do you have a spoon?”

“Focus, people!” Kiswa said, laughing.

With Mirha’s help, Azlan and Irha cleaned the clock pieces and began putting them back together. Meanwhile, Shani Bhai kept popping up on Zoom with “helpful” comments.

“Azlan Bhai, don’t break it again!”

“Azlan Bhai, that screw goes the other way!”

“Azlan Bhai, I’m hungry. Send me a pizza!”

Finally, after hours of work (and a lot of arguing), the clock was fixed. Azlan placed it back in the living room, and the golden pendulum swung gracefully once more.

________________________________________

While Azlan and Irha worked on the clock, the cousins guided them through planning a surprise party for Mom. Kiswa suggested decorating the living room with balloons and a banner. Mirha helped them make a card that said, “We’re Sorry, Mom!”

Shani Bhai contributed by singing a party song that was so off-key, everyone ended up laughing. “It’s a gift,” he said proudly.

By evening, the living room was ready. When Mom walked in, Azlan and Irha shouted, “Surprise!”

Mom’s jaw dropped. “What’s all this?”

“We’re sorry, Mom,” Azlan said, handing her the card. “We fixed the clock and wanted to make you smile again.”

Mom’s eyes softened. “You kids... you’ve made me so happy.” She hugged them both tightly.

On Zoom, the cousins cheered. “Mission accomplished!” Shani Bhai yelled, wearing a party hat he’d made out of paper.

The family spent the evening laughing, eating cake, and listening to Grandma’s stories. And from that day on, Azlan made a promise to himself: no more experimenting with antique clocks... at least not without supervision.