Until He Returns

Until He Returns

IOC Chronicles
-By Qanit Takmeel The call has been made and I wait for our leader to stand. It’s early morning and we’ll never understand. How long the siege shall last. How long we’ll remain cooped up in the annuls of this haven. My heart has begun to stir up emotional prayers. For the time is ripe. The Liar and the unjust have for long been torturing us… It’s a test of our faith. He surely must have a thorough plan. The white tower is in front of me… How beautiful shall be his face. I imagine what my eyes shall see As I walk to greet him, That brightness in his face, Better than anything else I've seen before. His charm and his grace. And then as I greet him, He’d…
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Fighting for our gifts

Fighting for our gifts

IOC Chronicles
- By Maleeha Babar When did people become numbers and bodies become commodities? When I look through my newsfeed, I see lists of deaths. Articles upon articles pile up my newsfeed, filling it with intoxicating death: spiritual death, emotional death, physical death and intellectual death. Rape is a cliché. But it's not. Until we recognize our humanity, however, it will be. Everywhere I go, I see our humanity denigrated to parts and pieces, to objects and commodities, to numbers and statistics. And yet no one says a word. We'll like and share and like and share pictures upon pictures of people being violated, slaughtered, used and abused, yet we won't stop to think: How are we a part of this? How are we engaging in this? And these are difficult…
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Dolor

IOC Chronicles
By Zulkar Khan Several summers ago, a neighboring family friend had a hemorrhagic stroke while late in her pregnancy. Her son was a close friend of mine. I vividly remember one late afternoon, when after dropping off some food at their house, I saw my buddy lying on the sofa. He just stared blankly at the wall; his eyes had run out of tears by then. I had no clue what he was enduring. I just avoided him until school started. A few years later, tragedy struck closer. My dad was hospitalized for jaundice and during one of my hospital visits, the diagnostic team rolled into the room. A physician asked if I was eighteen yet, and when I replied in the affirmative (“barely”), he solemnly told us that my…
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Nothing but Clay

IOC Chronicles
-By Sumrah Iqbal “A barrier is formed within my mind, The serenity of peace I cannot find. Doubts come together, brick by brick. A wall is formed – my heart is sick. Slowly caution slips away. Slowly I forget I am but clay. A void is formed, Its silence so deep. I begin to shiver – for I cannot weep. But the moment I step outside that door, Suddenly the tears I cannot control. The sight that greets, me humbles me, The beauty of nature, of Allah, I can see. The force of the wind chips away at the wall, The bricks begin to crumble, And they begin to fall. Nature’s music allows me to hear, And the sun allows my sight to clear. Suddenly my heart takes a breathe,…
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Finding a Way Back

IOC Chronicles
-By Maleeha Babar When we are young, there’s an enthusiasm for life, a zest that paints all of our actions. Exploring the world, finding out all the beauty it contains is an adventure that we look forward to every day. We possess curiosity and creativity, vigor and joy. We look forward to talking to other children, sharing with them and connecting. There’s life within us. When we make a mistake, it’s serious. When we do something good, it matters. When someone hurts us, it actually hurts. At the deepest level, we understand the miracle that life is. Yet, as we grow older, that very same spirit begins to wane as we enter the “real world”. We are subtly told that the lifeless homes we see, the race for money, the…
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