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Author: Eeman Adeel

About The Author

Eeman Adeel

like the lightning you see- alluring, dangerous and free⚡️

Froods X Papercrush

In this ever-changing world, the tendency to develop a sense of becoming less mindful of our negative habits. One of these habits is to waste food unthoughtfully, which is unfortunately common these days. People waste food everywhere, whether they attend or conduct wedding ceremonies or in restaurants or just in their daily work or school routine. As we ignorantly waste food, we often forget that there are so many in the world who do not have access to food that not everyone has the privilege to eat what their heart desires. With this privilege comes the responsibility to prevent...

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Education for the Rural Population

Reaching the heights of development and prosperity is led ever so bravely by the forerunner; namely Education. A primal source of economical and individual development, this principle characteristic is sparing throughout the developing world. Considering Pakistan, despite the increase in literacy rate in the recent years, educational quality is particularly neglected in the rural areas. The total rural educated population, overlooking the otherwise-vital elements – i.e quality of teaching content and style,  has just barely crossed 50% (increasing minutely from 51.9% to 53.3% between the years of 2016-2019). Several factors leading to the disparity between urban and rural education show that the gap needs to be bridged to increase the literacy rate – and hence the developmental status – for a stable, steady, and permanent welfare of the country as a whole, and not just the ‘privileged’ social groups. A brief insight into the realities of unequal education lie in the main difference between government and private schooling systems, lack of educational disbursement, semi or unqualified staff, ingrained disinterest from ‘backward’ mindsets towards female education, and monetary issues to afford enrollment in the first place. A government school or private village school – being Urdu medium – would automatically mold the student in a traditional type of way. While a private English medium school would construe situations, habits, as well as general thinking schemas similar to the Western culture....

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Our Youth

We were toyed around and left helpless We were downtrodden and lifeless We were left to pick up the pieces  We were the supposed cause to the crisis But we’re the ones who illuminate Our souls are made of light We broke the mysterious silence  We’re the ones who always win the fight  Our hands are windows to a new realm  We show the path to a better existence We’re the proud ones, the brave ones, the broken ones We’re the happy souls, the young and free, the shattered and weak We’re the only future, the lovers, the concrete...

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Stone Cold (Part 3)

… Wednesday, 3rd February. The funeral was scheduled. All robed in black, a small-scale peaceful burial took place. Inquisitive and curious questions flowed into one ear and escaped from the other as Jules stared from a fair distance into the open, watching the wooden encasings lower down six feet below her dusty boots. How do you even try to comprehend the situation and make sense of it when everything you have to live for is no longer breathing? And from that day onwards, Julie turned into a heartless entity. Fearing no consequence for the worst of the worst already happened, dreading no risk taken for the greatest guilt had embedded itself into her. She let go of her cocoon and transformed into a ferocious butterfly. No longer empathetic, no longer a stranger’s shoulder to cry on as her own only two consolers left her alone. She retained this attitude through university. Not showing a single sign of any emotion hidden deep within. With walls high up and a guard of harsh words, Jules managed to complete her Bachelors and finally apply for the job her father always wanted for her – any respectable position at the counselling firm he visited monthly for his anger management issues. The CV might have been impressive, as she was a literary student, but her hopes were below her knees considering the struggling journey...

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Stone Cold (Part 2)

… Room 325. Bingo. She entered silently, as to not disturb her entire world that was encased behind foreign walls. Looking at her parents’ state didn’t upset her, it made her angry. A form of anger that doesn’t make you shout, it makes you punch walls and cry like a new born baby. Composed; tears welled up in her eyes, flowing like a broken reservoir, silent tears of infuriation. Why must she have fought over a trivial party with her beloved father the previous night? Why did she turn down her mom’s request to assist her in grocery shopping, every single time? Why? Still sobbing soundlessly, Jules kissed her dads scratched forehead, a flinch was the only reciprocation she got. “I won’t go to the party dad”, she whispered. Another kiss on the mother’s purple bruised cheek, with her apron with flour patches and dried out cake batter still on underneath the patients’ gown. “I’ll bring the butter next time, you just sit and relax, okay?” Walking out upon the nurse’s request, she plopped on the floor, dismissing the steal bench across her desperately trying not to yell her lungs out. Proceeding a glass of water to ease her down, the nurse advanced to inform the daughter about the parents’ critical condition. No. No no no no.. no. Dad: brain damage. Mom: a heartbeat away from a straight line...

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