Fawad’s Eye ViewFawad’s Eye ViewFawad’s Eye View

crossroads of the

most politically

volatile region,

faced the brunt of

war on terror and

to this date

portrays its

vibrant culture;

Peshawar deserves a heartiest tribute!

July-August Edition

The Peshawar city is one of the

oldest, greenest and beautiful

cities, located in the mouth of the

historical Khyber Pass. It is 166

km from Islamabad and 58 km

from Torkham, the border check

post on Pak-Afghan border. The

majority of the population is

Pathan; a blend of various tribes

that take pride in carrying arms as a part of their dress; some

to instill fear, some to harass and mostly just to show off!

The best time to visit this unique and historic city is the

winter and spring. Since November to April are the pleasant

blooming months of the year. The local languages spoken in

this placid vale are Pashto, Urdu and Hindko.

Although recently Peshawar suffered a lot due to terrorism,

but it is my personal

viewpoint and

observation that the

people here are so

courageous, brave,

hospitable and kind-

hearted that they welcome

the foreigners from the

core of their hearts

and their smiling faces

show their

wholeheartedness. For a city that has existed at the

Contains original articles written by Peshawar’s

thriving youth.

A medium for literary and visual art.

The first ever philanthropic service for youth

that fosters their freedom of speech.

In this issue:

Fawad’s Eye View 1

Young and Poetic 2

Artsy 3

Cover Story 4-5

First Time in Peshawar 6

A Village Tale 7

MAHABAT KHAN MOSQUE

ZARGHUNI MOSQUE

GORAKHNATH TEMPLE

BALAHISAR FORT (TOP)

A Project by Youth Exchange and Study Alumni Peshawar

By Fawad Ahmed

Moments go on..

Days pass by

It looks like it was yesterday

When I had my first birthday

Time moves like

an unstoppable machine

No one but the Creator

knows its mechanics

I try to be fast ,but I lose track

I try to move on but

my inferiorities push me back,

I try to run away, but my heart ties

me with my loved ones,

It seems like my destination is just

close

But then...

I find out it was just a dream…

When you call,

Your voice will somehow reach

my ears,

Like an aromatic scent it will come

to me,

and happiness it will shower over

me,

Euphoria and peace it will preach,

Bringing joy and pleasure it will

reach,

No matter how far am I, my dear,

Deep inside your heart you will find

me very near

Young & Poetic

Time and Life The Call

By Zahra Qaiser By Urooj Siddiq (University Model School)

By Huma Khan

By Sonalia Qazi (UMS)

By Sahareena Wali, Jinnah College

By Sahareena Wali, Jinnah

College

COVER STORY

Strange by Ayesha Javaid

has to do with me. I’m just sitting here and thinking.” I

muttered in a low tone implying that I am busy and that he

should probably leave.

“You may find me helpful here young boy.

Other creatures like animals sometimes have a greater in-

sight into our thinking and my cat thinks I can answer your

questions”

How did he know? Hiding my astonishment, “You are try-

ing to be nice. I appreciate this effort of yours. But I don’t

need any kind of help. I feel I am a born warrior and will

fight against my thoughts myself. I don’t need anyone.

Thanks you nevertheless.” I said in an

extremely thankful way. And inside me

hoping that the man leaves me in

peace.

During this whole interval of a short

conversation with the man. The cat was

still exactly the same way as she was.

Stuck there hard as if she was consti-

pated. The man was about to answer

when I interrupted

“Sorry to interrupt but is this cat nor-

mal? Like really normal…I’ve never

seen such a strange creature before and I feel either she is

crazy or constipated “

The man smiled and replied

“Strange isn’t it? My cat never reacts this way. And you are

surely irritated by this manner of her? Aren’t you? Yet I too

see you in exactly the same way as the cat is. You are acting

abnormally and I too want to know about you. Trust me and

tell me your peace lies in my answers.”

Hypnotized and transfixed, out of my own accord I mum-

bled. “I don’t know if you have the answer but still my first

question is that why I cannot live in a fairy world? Where I

am the king .”

“You will for sure. But nature cannot be changed. You will

have to lose something in order to get something better. My

son you have to lose aggressiveness, impatience. You have

to lose your own choice and let others first”

“Well that would make my life a living hell!” I was irritat-

ed.

“Yes it will make hell out of the fiction. And as a result you

will get your kingdom in the real world. Which will never

end. You see everyone dies here. You won’t die there. So

Walking on my home on a dark black rainy thunder-

ous night, I was lost. Totally lost in my thoughts of

who I am? Where was I before I wasn’t me?

Am I fiction?

Why do you always have fantasies and cannot live

like fairies?

Why can’t you to forget about the feelings that ulti-

mately hurt?

And I suddenly stumbled against the trash lying be-

side a wall. I did not recognize during all this time

that the rain has finished. And the night is almost

about to end. I sat down in resignation and thought

about these thoughts gnawing at

my peace.

A black cat sauntered by and

bore holes into me with her em-

erald eyes, as if I had entered

her territory.

Extraordinarily the cat did not

even move a single time from

her chosen position. I leaned

near her in order to touch her.

Unlike normal cats she did not

budge!

The sphinx flabbergasted me!

“So he is the one you want me to meet?”

I heard a voice from behind the cats shadow. Slight

sunrays were falling on his wise wrinkled face and I

could hardly see him. But all I can say is that he

seemed to be an old man with silver beard trailing up

to his chest holding a rosary in his gnarled fingers.

“My cat MIGHTY AND MERCY”, he point-

ed at it, “I could see her disturbed the whole night. As

if she wanted me to meet someone really close to her.

And then by midnight she pawed me to ask me for a

favor. I got up and placed some milk before her but

she pushed the milk . spilled it on the floor and

caught hold of my shoe by her jaws and tried hard to

drag me somewhere out of the cottage. And here is

where she brought me to see you.” His eye roved over

me. “Hmmm. You seem from a well-off rich family.

Why are you sitting here beside this bundle of trash?

And the first thing I would like you to answer is that

how does my cat know you?”

“No, I seriously don’t know what does the cat

because we cannot perfectly erase our memory. And

each and every fiction has something to create a thrill.

Even the fairy tales. Even your kingdom of dreams

my son. Fiction works that way. And it is also a way

to test yourself. Will you commit the same mistake

again or no? And most of the times we commit it

again. Because of the fact no one is born perfect. Ex-

perience speaks my son.”

“Sure it does. I agree and thank you for being so kind

to satisfy my worrying mind.”

He smiled, “I did nothing else than speaking up your

own mind to you. At times we even hesitate to solve

our own problems. How strange isn’t it?”

“Yes. You have made me even come more close to

myself. I still don’t know myself and I’m fighting in

this fiction to know others. I need to know my pur-

pose and I really need to know it”

“The cat seems satisfied!” said the

old man. And trust me it was. The

cat swirled around his feet.

I, with a huge bright smile, replied

“Me too!”

The man then said. “I shall go to

perform my prayers. But before

going I would like to tell you 1

thing you must remember all your

life. Most of the times between the

race of a lion and a deer. The deer

wins ninety-nine times in a hundred. Because the lion

runs for food and the deer runs for life. PURPOSE IS

MORE IMPORTANT THAN NEED!”

I stood up and cleaned the dust from my pants and

shook hands with my kind mentor. I could feel he did

not have a bone in his thumb finger. I wanted to ask

but was in such an excitement of being me myself that

I ignored the fact. I bade him good bye and turned to

the nearby Masjid in order to thank Allah. But just a

blink later a thought came into my mind. The Masjid

is this way. So where did the old man go. I turned in

order to ask him and he wasn’t there. There was no

trash lying beside the same wall. There was nothing.

Absolutely nothing. I realized the trash was in my

mind which an angel came and cleaned up. Surely if

you need Allah’s help, He will give you more than

you need. I stepped into the Masjid. Thinking of how

strange the night was!

you decide peace here or peace there?”

His answer kind of satisfied me. I felt close to my own

self. And came across the reality that my life is fiction.

When my Creator reads the fiction I made. So if it’s a

universal best seller. He will let me go to the kingdom

I want. And if it’s a flop fiction. I’m into hell forever.

“Umm… thank you Sir, my next question is what was

I before I wasn’t me”

“Oh! So you went deep.. you… you were nothing but a

single soul that promised the Creator that will follow

His rules and His laws in order to get your own king-

dom. You were a selfish creature because you paid

attention to the beauty of your kingdom. The heaven.

But you ignored the fierce fire of hell. And here you

are granted with a chance either to amend the mistake

you committed or continue selfishly in your eternal,

fictional kingdom.”

He took a deep breath, “My

son! You have to decide. What

you did is gone. But now you

have to show who you are and

what you are. You are provided

with many doors in this game.

And you have got many keys

as well. The only thing which

makes you yourself is which

door you decide to open. The

one to your kingdom or the one

to fiction. You have the right to mould your fiction in

any way.”

Surprised at this very extremely graceful white-robed

man’s wisdom and composure I did not realize that the

sun was beginning to break the inky blue shell of

night. He gave me my answers. I could easily get to

others as well but I felt the train of time was almost

leaving.

“Okay! Sir one more question if you don’t mind...

please “ I said with a smile of satisfaction on my face.

And he said

“I am here to answer you. Please continue my son”

“The last question is that Why can’t we forget about

the feelings that ultimately hurt us?”

“Smart... indeed very smart. Remember you get hurt

because of yourself. You trust the wrong thing and you

get hurt. You go for something you shouldn’t and you

get hurt. So you get hurt because of yourself and even

if you try to forget this feeling. It still exists for a while

First Time In peshawar

With the sweltering sweep of summers and the

academic year ending, the Youth Exchange and Study

Alumni successfully conducted a School of Writing

workshop that spanned over two days. Dozens of

schools ea-

gerly sent

their students

forward to

participate in

this workshop, but we had to restrict the number to

50 students from age 15-19.

We are proud to state that with no virtually

professional help the members made this a produc-

tive event. There were well-prepared, comprehen-

sive presentations above 90 minutes on topics like Reading, Creative Writing, Communica-

tion Skills, Blogging and Journalism. Not only was the event free of cost, the participants

were given handouts of the presenta-

tion, refreshments and certificates. The

feedback was astoundingly encourag-

ing.

Clearly everyone learned and

enjoyed side by side. This workshop

inspired the students to come out of

their shells and write! It was an at-

tempt at developing their budding per-

sonalities and it is an immense pleas-

ure to know that these students are ar-

dently contributing to the YoungPek-

hawar blog. We hope to continue with

such groundbreaking educational

courses in the future.

13 km away on the forlorn outskirts of Nowshera, is a unusual sight of

a small village called Ziarat Kaka Sahib. It is a hilly area is famous primarily

for the tomb of a saint named Hazrat Kaztir Gul. It stands as a palpable land-

mark visible throughout the area. The village sustains buildings and relics

steeped in the ancient Hindu architecture before 1947.

Hazrat Kaztir Gul’s tomb drapes a

religious aura over the village, such

that every year in the month of Ra-

jab the villagers attend the Urs

(death anniversary) at the shrine.

Urs is believed to be humans con-

tact with the spirits and ends on

24th Rajab with the brightened,

dazzling display of lights called

Charagha. The shrine is made of

out white milky marble embellished

with calligraphic scriptures on the

outside.

To the observer it sits proudly as a pearl in its shell, untouched by the

hustling bus- tling bazaar outside. Behind this tomb

is an old mosque called Masjid-e-Hoz construct-

ed by Mughal king Akbar. The Mughal legacy contin-

ued here, even when Akbar constructed the Rang

Mahal, a rest- house constructed on water. The local

legend has it that Akbar once left a treasure behind

which no one dares to uncover since its protected by

some demon. Some say that in reality the special

kind of stone used during construction reflected a golden tinge and therefore

people spun tales about the existence of gold and

diamonds. Nevertheless, it is a beautiful sight

and a must visit for anyone interested in the

deeper truths of our heritage.

By Feeha Riaz (University Model

School)

Hassan Saeed (Youth Affairs Officer

at iEARN Pakistan)

Mobile: 0333-9100670

Nayab Mirza (Editor)

Mobile: 0341-3260220

E-mail: youngpekhawar@gmail.com

This time the people who deserve a Great Job Golden Star are:

Fawad Ahmed: A young blogger since June 2012, who wants to raise the

positivity about Pakistan and thinks that Pakistanis should be loyal to their

country and should know the heritage, natural beauty and amazing history

of this nation!

Urooj Siddiq: A young blogger who has read Vampire Diaries and thinks that, “Elena is not

worth the quarrel between Stefan and Damon!”

Feeha Riaz: A participant from School of Writing Workshop who has been in contact with the

editor with her vibrant articles and stories.

Ambar Siddiq: A proud Pathan who recently enjoyed an amazing trip to Swat and loves Ismail

and Junaid’s band!

Ayesha Javaid: A blogger since February 2012, loves sharing her life’s events, her thoughts and

random philosophies. She welcomes the reader to blog that is the “road to her very own mind!”

She loves books, dislikes music and is guilty of crying over movies!

Kudos to our Young Writers!

Youth Exchange and Study

Alumni

Word of the day:

Surreptitious (adjective): being cautious

and taking pains to avoid being observed.

(Sentence): He cast a surreptitious glance

at the door to see if the waiter was

bringing the food or not!

Quote of the day:

“Be yourself; everyone else is

already taken.” ~Oscar Wilde

Join us: youngpekhawar@gmail.com

Youngpekhawar ~

Let your voice be h

eard!

Editor’s Note:

We would love to hear your comments, criticism, suggestions,

concerns and opinions. Tell us how to make YoungPekhawar

a success, we really need your help, so will you help a friend

in need? If yes then take out time and write to us!