ميں كس كے ہاتھ پہ اپنا لہو تلاش کروں

For days I have been trying to gather the courage to write a few words about the Army Public School (APS) Peshawar attack, but the tragedy was so enormous that it had paralyzed my brain. Today, I will write a few words about one of the boys' (a 10th grade student) who was martyred in the attack. "Rafiq".

Rafiq, the most beautiful bright young boy I had ever met. The son of one of my dear colleagues' and brother. I met Rafiq for the first time when he was in 7th grade. I was in my room in office, working on some reports, when I heard a sweet and soft voice outside my room. I thought it was one of the ladies from the field offices. (Something that we used to tease Rafiq about, later.) I went outside and saw a very sweet little boy in my office. He would visit his dad after school, almost everyday, before leaving for home. Another of my colleagues' was teaching him math. The day he passed his exams with flying colors, I remember it being celebrated in office.

It is very hard to accept that he is no more. His sweet melodious voice still echoes all around. His radiant face shall never be forgotten.

"Yeh Zalim Jis Tarhan Say Khailtay Hain Khoon Ki Holi
Frishta Is Sadi Main Phoonk Day Ga Soor Lagta Hay"

Verse by -- Safdar Ali Safdar