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productivity-8

Red

As a child, my mother used to tell all of my relatives this ridiculous story about me, that I was scared of the color red. She used to narrate it as follows, “Oh dear, did I ever tell you about that time when little Zeeshu saw blood for the first …

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productivity-9

The Past Lives On

I wasn’t there, and he was only just a child. But his stories were enough to make me a part of his bloody montage with all the blood sucking creatures who called themselves human, the scarlet rivers, stabbed infants, the ashen skies and raped women. It was like I heard …

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productivity-4

Call me a Teacher

Call me a teacher, if I burn my nights for your kids. Call me a teacher if I sacrifice my sleep to plan something good for your kid. I get tired, but call me a teacher if my smile makes your kid grin. I fight with this world too but …

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productivity-5

Crossroads of Love

It is the early hours as I watch my keyboard stare blankly at me. Outside, janitors are coming in their full force, armed with their brooms to sweep the streets. Islamabad is waking up from a deep slumber, causing a sense of urgency to rise in my chest. I stare …

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