| Written by <a href="index.php?option=com_comprofiler&task=userProfile&user=1059"><span class="small">khurram khan</span></a> |
"An ideal teacher is said to be a candle which lights others by consuming itself”
An ideal teacher……quite a common topic to talk about & you, my reader's might not find it catchy enough to catch your attention. But ……hang -on .., I’ve got something more than usual to offer. More often, people do write-ups in praise of their guides & teacher’s. But, here the picture is slightly different. I am not in praise of a particular one. Sorry, if I 'm being rude or unintentionally hurting anybody's sentiments. This piece of writing is not a made up story, instead based on true facts. |
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| Those Where the Days |  |  |
| Written by <a href="index.php?option=com_comprofiler&task=userProfile&user=310"><span class="small">Sohail Khan</span></a> |
It was a fine sunny day of mid September, we assembled in a friends house whose marriage was being celebrated that day, The Bridegroom was all busy with hair cut, shave, bath, clothing and all that, and we the friends were as usual taking care of the guests of the family. He was the eldest one among his siblings and as per routine was getting married first, no doubt he was having a sister too but she was very young.
We were his closet friends who were present that day. Twelve in the total, among us were 3 Kashmiri pandits and nine of us Muslims. We were assigned every work as is the tradition in Kashmir. After two days of continuous hard work we were relaxing in the evening and getting ready to leave with the baraat. A couple of friends were busy with bridegroom selecting his clothes, trials and re-trails one after another, a couple of friends were discussing the waleema day arrangements and a few were trying to locate the baraatie.
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| Narrow Escape | | |
Since my childhood, I have been afraid of small, confined spaces and furiously fled such places. Later, I understood that this condition was known as claustrophobia, but I have never been able to master it. Now, unwillingly, I had to enter a closed narrow space. I was wrapped in a shroud and lying in a long coffin. I could hear the voice of the people around me quite well. And although my eyes were closed, I could see them clearly. “He died so young,” they said and added, “He had so many things to do.” It was true that I had left a great deal of work half done; I had not set up a good business for my son, completed the payment of the instalment of the car and TV.
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| English Stories by Kashmiri Writers | | |
The literature Kashmir has produced is both very rich and varied. For many centuries, apart from the Kashmiri language, it has been written in many other languages, including Persian, Sanskrit, Arabic, Hindi, etc. In the recent past, Kashmiri writers have also shown their mettle in the English language. With the world famous Agha Shahid as a pioneer, several other Kashmiris have started writing in the English language. In this section we try to bring the best of present and past English literature by Kashmiri writers. To begin with, here is a short story by Mr. Syed Anwar Owais. Owais, an engineer with the J&K government, is in his early forties and has already written three poetry books: The Nothing Wolf, The Princess and the Madman, and Kashmir Speaks. He is one of those contributing to the growth of English literature in Kashmir. His writings reflect the stark, honest reality of the present day Kashmir. READ ON... Love Story Daze of Unity The Manager Retires |
| Love Story | | |
“ What is a ‘frown’?” He asked, looking up from the book. His friend showed him the grimace. “ It has been three years and you still haven’t got Nusrat.”
Aashiq fidgeted. “ Look I am trying. I have talked to her a few times, haven’t I? And I gave her that letter. She took it, but hasn’t replied. I am trying, okay?”
“Try harder,” Iqbal said. “Both with her and with your studies. You don’t want to fail again, do you?”
Aashiq felt a sudden pang of gratitude toward his friend. Without Iqbal’s help, he would certainly fail again. He still had a lot of ground to cover, but he had improved. English - that was the problem. |
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