A common innocent stroy

It appears to be a common story, innocent and small, but this small, innocent, and ordinary story is the story of all of us. This is the reality that is connected to all of us and we all fall prey to this fact at some point in our lives.

My friend was brought up by his aunt. 'Aunt was a worldly unfortunate woman. Allah blesses her in every respect. It was good-natured. Allah had also opened the doors of knowledge to her. He did her MA forty years ago. She became a lecturer in college. She was young and there were numerous relationships, but the family chose a strange relationship. The family was supporting a poor and poor child. The family had educated the child in school, college, and university and also incurred all his expenses for 15-20 years.

When the child completed his education, the family decided to give the best girl in the house to him. The decision was made because the child was intelligent and the family thought that if he was married in their house, the paths of development would open up for him. 'The marriage took place, but a year later the young man did the CSS.' He came to the police service and divorced the woman as soon as he got a job. This man was a practical interpretation of Hazrat Ali's statement in which he said, "Do you a favor."'Fear his evil' The man later reached senior police positions and finally retired humiliated, but this man was not part of our story. It was just a character who came and got out of the game. 'The woman was heartbroken after the divorce.' She refused to marry again and dedicated the rest of her life to the family. 'During this time his elder brother got married, and my friend was born from this marriage.

The friend was taken as her son by the woman and she grew up in the arms of her oppressed and innocent aunt. 'The woman's life shrunk in the days to come. The child was confined to serving her parents and her brothers.' During this time, the leaves of the time were lost and during this fall her parents left the world one by one. When the father was buried, an artificial grave was built with him.

This is Kent cemetery and sometimes it becomes difficult to find a place in this cemetery. The Chanancha family requested that Gorkin and Gorkin made a pile of clay next to his father's grave and "booked" the next grave. When the family members went to the father's grave for Fateha, they often wondered who would come to whose part this grave would come in and the right to this grave. Dar eventually became an 'oppressed' innocent, simple, and noblewoman, but there is still the aspect of the story that forced me to write this column. ``Come back to my friend.' My friend made a mistake at the age of 10-11 and the mistake became a thorn in his conscience and embedded for the rest of his life.

As a child, she complained to her mother about her aunt one day. The complaint was false. The mother got angry with the aunt. When they both faced each other, the mother fought with the aunt. The aunt got upset. She called out to the child. 'My friend stood in front of both of them.' The mother said, 'The child saw the aunt and she was lying. He also repeated on his face, 'Aunty was surprised first' Then she smiled.' She put the child with her and said to her brother-in-law, ''If my son is talking, then it will be fine.

I must have told him, 'This word became an arrow at that time and went straight into my friend's heart.' Even today, at the age of forty, the word is embedded in his heart, and it caresses them every day with the fingers of thought and is restless.' That day and today my friend thinks every day he should go to his aunt and forgive him for his mistake. But initially shame' Tasaf and Khajalat did not give him a chance and later life's engagements got in the way of forgiveness.

This story is innocent and simple and we are all part of this story. It is a story made up of the fabric and the beat of safe and we are all tied to one end or the other. My friend's aunt was a social woman, but when her relationship broke down one by one, it became lonely. 'Parents died' sisters and brothers in their lives. They became engrossed, their children grew up, they got married and they too got entangled in the busy schedules of their own lives. My friend also started flowing in the course of life, but during this time he used to go to his hometown whenever he went to his hometown. They did meet her aunt. 'The aunt was now lonely and lonely. Her life was confined to just one room. She used to read the Quran, pray, read books, and watch television for a while. She would have had periods leaving the room. My friend estimated one day that The Aunt had eaten in a restaurant. Many years had passed and they had not crossed the road home for months.

My friend thought she was also my mother and I wanted to take her to a restaurant. I'd take her to a park and take them out for shopping or a drive. It would also make her heart flow and she would be able to witness the changing life. My friend thought that Aunty had locked herself in the room for years. And he didn't even know how many changes had taken place in the city and how much social life had taken so far.

My friend would plan this every time, but every time some untimely engagement would cut off the way to the project, someday he would not feel like getting out of bed. Someday he would take one of his children to the doctor. Someday he would go with his wife to watch a film and someday a friend would drag him with him and thus take the aunt out. The plan to go would have shifted to the next visit. The series went on for many years until my friend decided last week that he would take the aunt out this weekend.

It will take them out of the room, it will take them to the restaurant of their choice. They will feed them wonderful food and finally apologize to them for their childhood lies. My friend's decision was strong and irrevocable, but the decision flew into the air before the weekend. My friend was informed at 3.30 p.m. "Phufi Jan has died." He rushed to his hometown and the funeral of the aunt was ready. He took him to the cemetery and buried the aunt on his grandfather's side, but my friend's safe was left alive.

I had initially submitted, 'This is an innocent' simple and small story' This story is over but the hidden mill in this little story will never end. 'We all carry the burden of forgiveness in our hearts. 'We all have some aunt, some uncle, our father, our mother or one of our loved ones' friends and relatives of our precious time. We want to give a few moments' We want to feed someone or we want to get someone out of the locked room but life engagements are not allowing us to apologize and please others.

We are not able to look out of the circle of time, so our forgiveness and our attention are coming down in the graves one by one, and their graves are adding to our sense of remorse. 'I don't understand why we spread the forgiveness of a few seconds and two phrases for forty years, and we give our relationships a little happiness. Why do we think for ten years? Why do we spread today's work tomorrow and tomorrow for twenty-five years? 'I think we are all pharaohs of this simple, small and innocent story that does not recognize reality before the dives of the Nile River. We are slaves of laziness and blackness who cannot be happy themselves, nor any other. I can see happiness.