Writer's Canvas

 Another trip to Hanna Lake Zainab Mustaali Sutterwala Darajah Ashera   “Are we there yet?” my grandson, impatiently, inquires the millionth time. “Beta, can you see the house at the top of the hill? We have almost arrived.” his mother consoles him. Yet still, I cannot see. I cannot see our two-storey holiday house. Nor its facade of French windows, for my eyes' current capability is only a shadow of what it used to be during my last visit. My eyes are weak but my sights from long ago help me review the place, as if through a clearer, sharpened lens. Memories from my last trip when I was nine years old.   But I do recall the roller coaster feeling while the car climbs up the steep road which is still there. ”Woah!” exclaims the young boy in awe as our car comes to a halt. I had been as excited as he was- maybe even more. I had jumped out of my car seat in hastiness only to hurt myself on the knees. But thanks to the adrenaline rush, I had forgotten the pain in no ...

  UNPRECEDENTED TIMES   Fatema Haidermota  Daraja 5AF      My friend and her father steered through the busy, run-down streets of her small town in Indore on her new purple bicycle. It didn’t fit in with the setting around her. It was all bright and sparkly compared to the grey and dull broken concrete that surrounded her. It did, however, match her spirit, cheerful and innocent compared to the problems that surrounded her             A little bit ahead, guiding the way to the market was her father. He steered through the flocks of cow carts and people, meticulously following his every swerve. Wrinkling her face in concentration, My friend tried to remember what they needed to buy from the store. She knew they needed green beans, onions, tomatoes, and… what was the last thing? Lentils, she remembered as her father pulled up to the cart.           ...

A Wet Delay Zainab Shk Saifuddin  4AF      The city drenched in a cloudburst. As if the sky had ruptured and was dropping oceans.  Hasan stood on a sidewalk, his umbrella wide open. They had left to visit an ailing relative but due to sudden downpour the car in which his father was coming to pick them up had collapsed in midway and his father had gone to fetch help, leaving them lingering outside, in the outpouring showers.            It was raining cats and dogs!      His mother and grandma were extremely frustrated with the entire scenario and the stench of boiling gutters from the main road nearby made it even worse, but Hasan was genuinely amused watching the tiny, translucent pellets bursting and popping on the grey asphalt. He gazed from the tip of the umbrella, at the graphite sky, wondering if the bright sky had worn a lustrous silver gown made of clouds or if it had been wrapped in a dull silver paper...

  Expectations Shehrebanu Zohair Bhai Punawala 4A    There was an eerie silence. Even the clock's tick-tock felt like noisy drum beats, creating a distressing tension in the room. Suddenly, the receptionist announced Mr. Khan’s name. He stood up - tensed - and stepped inside the teacher's cabin. His son Harris, who was hiding behind his mother, eventually froze in terror, when he heard his father's name being called out. His pleading eyes, filled with tsunamis of tears, appealed like a prisoner, begging for the sake of his life. He tightened his legs, refusing to go with his father, but a tight grab from his mother's sharp claws pulled him off from his chair. Desperately, he strode inside the master's room.     It was a huge room with perfect VIP comforts. Mr. Khan got engrossed while gazing at the hanging certificates, which had occupied one-third of the room's wall. He was regretting his spoilt childhood, as the certified degrees reminded him of his never...

                                                                     Zul Janah. Arwa Najmuddin Diwan Class 6A    Tears rolling down his face, bare-backed and severely wounded, his hair covered in the blood of his slain Master, wailing a constant cry of anguish whilst signaling in his mute language that all was lost, he stood against the silhouette of the setting sun, informing  Moulatena Zainab  AS,   Moulatena Sakina  AS and  Imam Zain-al Abedin  AS, that Imam Husain AS was beheaded in the most barbaric of ways on the hot sands of Karbala, and that the body was being trampled upon by horses and men alike. What thoughts must have raced through his mind at that moment? Torn between wanting to protect his Master's body from the onslaught of such animals-never to leave his ...

Looking through the telescope of life! Tasneem Mufaddal Marvi Darajah Taseah Looking through the telescope of life, We see far and long. But different people look through them, The elders who moan and the children who sing songs.   The incident in my life was a trail walk, That will be seen from two people's eyes. An elderly man who has had enough in life, And a young boy who copes with life and to do so,he un-mistakenly tries.   "Oh! We are going for a walk in the trail, I will have so much fun! I have packed my lunch and camera, I think it is all done."   Oh! Why go for a walk, I am tired now. Can't it wait Arthur, I can't stay much active but you can, how?   Yes! We have reached the trail, Look, there are animals and trees. Oh! I can see a butterfly! Go and stand there till I take your pic and say "cheese"!   I wish I could walk forever, This is wonderful. But i am very hungry, Can we eat grandfa...

  TRANQUILITY Amatullah Shk Fakhruddin Asherah A short story-  In the crisp air, the sun shining brightly as it played hide and seek, tucking itself behind the trees and buildings, and peering out again. Nearby, the waves could be heard, merrily splashing and crashing onto the shore. Overwhelmingly hospitable, the ocean gushed and rushed over to hug us, for we had finally arrived at the majestic city of Colombo. Here, our benevolent and beloved Aqa Moula Syedna Mufaddal Saifuddin TUS was about to commence the annual sermons on the martyrdom of our eternally revered moula Imam Husain AS. Asharah Mubarakah had begun! In the long lines of getting entry to the Masjid, stood an elderly woman and her grand-daughter, eagerly waiting to enter. The grand-daughter exclaimed, "Dadi look! The ocean looks so mesmerizing. I love the saline scent of the ocean! Feeling the soft breeze brings upon my face, tingling all my senses with joyous splendor." The grandmother couldn't ...

THE LIGHT THAT SHINES FOREVER   Maria M. Khuzeema Zariwala 1BF A young girl, As rare as a pearl, Completely was life changed, In the best way explained.   Leaving home had her heartbroken, Making her a confident person. A leap of faith is all she took, Began her journey to study The Book.   Across the sky, she flew, Not knowing even, a clue, In Allah is her trust, To a new life, she had to adjust.   “Tell me more!”, exclaims my grandchild, “Oh, how wonderful seems her life!” she cried. “My boy, lend your ear to this part,” “For her journey was a work of art.”     Entering her room with grace, Emotions gush to her face. Standing there are her roommates, Ready to welcome her and congratulate.   The Nairobi mukhayyam, For an adventure, here I am! With foundations so strong, Becoming Hafiz not before long. To help children exceed in life, All to blossom and ahead they’d strive.   Breakf...

The curve of HIS lips, a crescent so perfect! Nafeesa M.Hussain Mirza   Just a glimpse of mine makes people rejoice Eid dawns upon them, an influx of bliss washes away their blights Just a glimpse of mine, declares a plethora of celebrations Masajid packed with gratitude filled faces, Streets filled with captivating savories. Faces groomed with smiles and cheers, Houses echoing joy and laughter. Just a glimpse of mine bearing a magical impact, Seldom do they wonder, What is the secret of my powers? Little does my hovering in the sky strike them, What is my pursuit? For what reason do I rise each night? For a glimpse of the one, who influences my might. How lucky are those few, each day for them is an Eid, With a countenance permanent in their hearts, Of such beauty and excellence, A thousand moons lay at HIS feet The curve of HIS lips, a crescent so perfect A sight of it is Eid personified. Abstract ecstasy alive in one persona. I rise ...

FOOD FOR THE SOUL Munira Shk Fakhruddin Shakir  It was unknown for so long; truly undefined What would I describe as my peace of mind? This heart of mine was a seeker for adventure Joyous, mischievous, a girl finding solace in the nature And my mind, well, it was like a mature man, the manager kind In everything, it tried to find the logic behind; the sense confined So together, this giddy heart and strong mind of mine They used to find peace in a beautiful sunset or the enchanting skyline Where the beauty of mankind and mother nature would meet There was where my mind would sigh deeply; my heart would beat But when the clock of my life struck twelve, I entered a heavenly sea It dawned upon me: this is exactly where I'm meant to be These worldly beauties are all a hoax, it will never suffice; For it is the soul that needs awakening; finding peace in its own paradise.  Be it the 100th Milad of moula; on marine drive Where the sea was dancing, with a spiritual thrive Be it the i...

I See The Light Zahra M.Khuzaima Zariwala 2BF I sit among the wild. The grass envelopes me. My stare goes vacantly to the stars, As dark approaches in glee.   Even among the silence, My mind whirs with noise. The quiet that surrounds me, Gives my thoughts a voice.   “Have you ever thought?” She asks, The strangeness of the mind. The little space where I live,   Where silence is left behind.   She starts to think of mankind, The constant crossroads at hand, How every choice has a consequence. Whether it be good or bad.   She asks, “How strange is it?” That one's choice is never theirs, At every turn, some other voice Meddles in their affairs.     Some attractive side that is seen, A previous wrong choice chosen, A different opinion held by another, Meddles in their affairs.   Now in this stressful world, Full of choices to be made, How does one find some peace? If not only for a day?   She asks, remember being a child? The blissful ignora...

Retrouvaille A short story Zainab Mustaali Sutterwala  23766 The only thing that kept moving in the traffic was the meter of the taxi, so we  decided to walk the remaining way and save our money. We asked “H ow much?” but the driver only lip synced to the noise of the honks; s omehow we managed to comprehend him. They say, "Mumbai traffic is like a  game of Tetris" and I could not agree more. Like the tiles in  the game, my friend and I dodged the fast-moving automobiles to fit into the  spaces perfectly, trying to move forward gradually. Claustrophobia had seized my mind and the background music orchestrated by the  accompaniment of all these horns was not in harmony either. Moreover, the  sun that day had decided to beam its rays upon us,  causing our pores to burst, and douse us completely with sweat. At last, we reached the gates of our desired destination and quickly stepped in  to get away from the tumult outside. We stared at the magni...