My travel story

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In my childhood when roads were not good the journey towards my native city was long. In those days Motorway was not constructed and eight to ten hours of journey through grand trunk or GT road (South Asia’s oldest and longest major roads) left my parents exhausted. On the other hand we children remained energetic for the mere idea of meeting with cousins and uncles kept us excited.

With time lot has been changed but my nostalgic feelings towards my city and late grandma’s house remained same.

It’s been some time that we wanted to take break from our monotonous hectic routines and this past week when our parents decided to arrange a trip to Attock, I and my sisters got excited.

It was early in the morning when we started our journey.

Province of Punjab is known for it green fields and as we were travelling between its two cities, we saw many beautiful scenes.

After every ten to twenty kilometers, I very much liked to stop and wanted to capture pictures of every scene but my mother reminded me that it would slow down our speed for at home the lunch was ready and every one was anxiously waiting for us.

In golden gleam of October sun, the road ahead was shining. I saw many villages where farmers were busy working in their fields while their cattle were enjoying eating food.

I saw workers along the road were busy in painting tree trunks white. At that time I didn’t understand but later I came to know they were doing this to protect tree bark from splitting and cracking.

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While the car was travelling on Motorway, I captured this image. White painted trees are visible in this picture.

After four hours we left Motorway and covered rest of the distance through GT road.

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I like this canopy of green leaves. The road ahead was looking neat.
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Sitting in front of car my mother kept on reminding me that my phone was not good to capture images but when I saw these horses and couldn’t resist capturing this picture.

This year on August 6, while writing a post on my blog,  I unconsciously mentioned my desire to observe reflection of sunlight in sea and this past week when I visited Attock river, I captured this effect of sunlight in water.

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I was happy and amazed for this picture is very near to the picture I saw somewhere on internet.

My favorite moment of family gathering is moment of picnic. We were some thirty people who went to river Attock and to river Haro on two different days.

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On that bright day the sun was shining. In the pictures the river looks calm but due to its unpredictable level it was dangerous to go near.

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On that day, I didn’t wear my joggers and in order to cross this mountain of sand, I took off my sandals. Sand was warm but I enjoyed my walk.

This is an old Attock bridge that was built in 1883 during English rule in subcontinent. The upper level of bridge is still in use for train movement. It’s been some time that the lower level of bridge is not in use for heavy traffic but still motorbikes and cycles from nearby villages use this bridge.

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While we were getting ready for picnic, we heard the sound of tain. I immediately got hold of my phone and tried to make small video on my phone.

What you give is what you get. We waved hands at the passengers in train. They looked grateful and waved back at us.

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Sitting on a rock, I particularly enjoyed feeling the sensation of cold water on my feet.

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While looking at the foamy waves of water, I silently thanked God for making the world beautiful.

Attock Fort is an important historical place which was built during Akbar reign from 1581 to 1583.

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In this picture the outer wall of Attock fort is visible. It’s been a long time that visitors are not allowed to go inside.

It’s been some time that I read somewhere that a person who don’t know about his family roots is not confident in practical life. I have myself experienced that whenever I get a chance to meet with my extended family, I feel myself fresh and more confident.

I’m grateful to God Almighty for this blessing of beautiful blood relations in my life.

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Plane Crash

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After it fell on mountain, the plane caught fire.

It’s been more than sixteen hours of receiving a tragic news of plane crash in Pakistan, there were some forty eight people on board and the tragic incident has left no survivor.

Death is inevitable, it’s a reality and being Muslims it’s our belief that those who have lost their lives in plane crash have all embraced martyrdom but reading stories of the relatives who have lost their loved ones in this incident, I’m thinking nothing but the fact that at the moment no pill but only prayers would help them in lessening their grief.

The people on plane were from every walk of life; there was a twenty-four year old engineer, there was country’s popular personality on board and there was a young civil servant with his wife and infant daughter, they all have perished now.

Couple of hours before hearing the news of incident on TV, I was watching heroic and inspirational moments on you tube. There I also watched a link to last seconds conversation of pilots before their planes got crashed.

It’s been told that after take-off, pilot radioed Mayday call. He had no control over his plane and while imagining the failed attempt of the slain pilot who tried to take control of his plane before it hit the ground, I thought of the passengers and  felt a tingling sensation in my spine; they knew they were all going to die.

This is a sad news; the nation is mourning and I can feel the grief of bereaved families. Their loss is irreplaceable and in the midst of this entire scenario, I’m thinking that sooner or later we’ll forget about this incident for when the life is moving we cannot stop, we’ll move forward and will forget about the loss of all those precious lives that were on board.

On hearing the news of someone’s death the Muslims are asked to recite prayer. Here is an English translation

“We surely belong to Allah and to Him we shall return.”

May they all rest in peace (Ameen)

The BBC has reported this news on its website

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-38238699

Those were some volunteers

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2005 earthquake in Pakistan is considered deadliest in country’s history. The 7.6 magnitude earthquake claimed some 76,000 lives.

October 8, 2005 was the month of Ramzan. On that day, I was on leave from college. It was around 8: 55 in the morning and I was busy solving Mathematics questions when I felt, the sofa on which I was sitting was shaking. At first, I stayed where I was but when shaking got worse, we all went outside.

Standing in my courtyard, grabbing my register, I looked at the houses; it was so bad that they were swaying like trees. I can’t remember the exact duration but it all lasted for few minutes.

That was a horrible experience. Though, I was reciting kalma but being a human being my heart was beating profusely. Once, on getting inside, I performed ablution and offered prayer. It gave me some satisfaction but the news on T.V channels weren’t good. It took some time before we realized the intensity of devastation. In capital city of Islamabad, a building got collapsed. It was named Margalla tower and the death toll in the northern areas of Pakistan was extremely high.

Once the news broke out, Pakistanis living abroad started leaving for their country. Volunteers from around the world offered their services.

That was the holy month of Ramzan in which Muslims abstain themselves from eating before the break of the dawn till sunset. In those days, I remember at the time of fast there were lots of blessings of Allah on our dining table and on every other day, I could see such pictures in newspapers in which group of volunteers were sitting patiently waiting to break their fast with nothing but water and some dates.

Those were some tough and painful days. There were stories of death and there were miracles of re-birth. Volunteers from the country and from all around the world performed their selfless service.

Reading the word “volunteer” for daily post took me back to that time, I can vividly recall watching all those faces in newspapers and on T.V which needed nothing but ready to give everything.

Those were some volunteers, mostly they were ordinary people, they didn’t need any kind of accolades and yet performed their selfless services and saved many lives.


Written for the daily post Volunteer

Attock:a bird’s eye view

Attock formerly known as “Campbellpur” is a small and beautiful city of lovely people. Maybe it’s my natural inclination towards my maternal family but I’ve always felt nostalgic feelings for this city.

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Road covered with Sheesham trees (Pictures near Attock city)

I can recall all those pleasure trips to my late grandmother’s house. In those days, the eight hour long journey usually left us tired and by the end we used to make our mother annoyed by asking repeatedly the same question

“How much time before we reached?”

For me, the very names of river Haro and the light grey Kala chitta mountain range hold a sweet scent of love and care.

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Kala Chitta mountain range
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River Haro

In my memories, my grandma’s house thrives as a warm and cozy place which wholeheartedly embraced the large family of more than thirty people. The veranda was large and in that sunlit place of home, we children remained busy in playing for long hours.

In front of the house there was a market. There were some shops of cobblers and all day long we could hear the hammering sound of their tools but in the evening as soon as the color of the sky turned black, the loud bang of shutters announced the closure of market.

In the small city of Attock, people wake up early in the morning and when the sun is still yawning, the city streets burst into life.

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Beautiful view of city

Attock is a city of largehearted people where residents are tightly knit with each other.The educational institutions in this “home of gunners” are best. This is a land of brave people and I feel proud to be associated with this city.

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Writing 101: A map as a muse

photo credit: pictures.org.es

3 Days, 3 Quotes- Day 1

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I have been nominated by afairymind to take part in 3 days, 3 quotes challenge. Thank you afairymind for giving me a chance. This is my favorite quote from les miserable. I was reading an article and I love this picture.

Image Courtesy: dawn.com/news/1186568

This is a picture of a child from Hussaini village Pakistan. It is situated in Hunza valley 145 Km north of Gilgit.

The rules of the challenge are:

1) Thanks the person who nominated you.
2) Post a quote each day for 3 days.
3) Each day nominate 3 new bloggers to take part.

My three nominees are:

1. Fatmawaty

2. randombytes

3. revels1

The story of a blue jacket!

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The sudden movement of the tectonic plates was brutal.

Standing in front of the ruins of what once was a school, I felt the biting cold air strike my face. Trying hard to fight against the freezing cold, I rubbed my hands and called out my team mates to get assemble.

I was leading the relief mission in that earthquake hit area and after issuing necessary orders, I and my teammates started to distribute blankets and warm clothes among the survivors.

I looked at them, they were large in number and huddled together for warmth their faces were telling the story of their ordeal.

The uncertainty of the future was evident from their faces and while, distributing the packets of warm clothes, my eyes caught a glimpse of something familiar. That man in his late twenties was sitting in a group of elderly people. Though, his curly hair looked rough, but his black eyes had still got a same shine in them. I instantly recognized him in my blue jacket.

The sight took me down into a memory lane.  The view of my Hostel room and the face of my roommate appeared in front of my eyes.   That was my favorite jacket and I admired its blue color. My roommate always wanted to wear that jacket, but I was possessive about my belongings. I even not allowed him to touch my things.  And, then the day came when he finally got a chance.

As soon as our last semester ended, the student started to pack their luggage and one day when I woke up I found he was gone. I ran towards the closet and found that he had also taken my blue jacket.

It had been some five years, but deep in my heart, I was still mourning the loss of my favorite jacket. And, now I could see it in front of my eyes.

I had a strange feeling that he had recognized me and I noticed that he was trying to appear as if he had not seen me. Controlling the emotions of my excitement, I took a deep breath and went towards him. My presence startled him, but I smiled and passing him a packet I said,

“Keep it, you need it more than me”.

Holding that packet in his hands, I saw dampness in his eyes and right at that moment, I heard a call for prayer. The Muezzin was saying “Allah ho Akbar” the God is great.

I looked above and felt a tiny drop of rain on my cheeks. I had never realized, that world is full of human sufferings and I had learned a lesson that if my tiny possessions could bring happiness to these faces then what’s the use of keeping them and boasting about them.

(In 2005 the massive earthquake of 7.6 struck the northern areas of Pakistan. The sweep of destruction was heart-rending. The above story is an inspiration from a real incident that I read in a newspaper.

Today, the people of Nepal are in need of our help. Please extend a helping hand to your Nepalese brothers and sisters.)

Lahore: The city of Lively hearts

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It’s a human nature that he loves and admires the place where he lives. It seems strange but it’s true that the man often appears unaware of this fact in his life.

Last year I visited my sister who lives in another city. It so happened that after five days I started to feel “home sick” and at that very moment I realized that I was actually missing my very own city of “lively hearts”.

Lahore is my city and I had spent my whole childhood here. Lahore is often known as a city of beautiful gardens and colleges.

I personally admires the semi arid climate of my city. So, the scorching sun of July always fills my heart with the warmth of happiness. It is a month in which temperature rises above 40 degree Celsius. This rise in temperature provides “Lahoris” with an excellent opportunity of enjoying their evenings in swimming. Mangoes, watermelon and Grewia Asiatica are among some of the summer fruits which provide some relief from the sweltering summer.

Lahore is a city of lively people. “Lahoris” are popular because of their nature of enjoying each and every moment of their lives. They love to eat and the city is known for its delicious “Lahori cuisine”.

This is only a bird’s eye view of my beautiful city. My people are “amazing” and this city is “worth visiting”.

Dear reader, thank you for taking a virtual tour of my city.

God Bless you!

(image courtesy: Google image and Wikipedia)