POETRY BY KA

  A Journey to Saif-ul-Malook The train slowly rolled into Islamabad Railway Station just as the first rays of dawn painted the sky with shades of gold and pink. Aiza stepped onto the platform, adjusting her shawl as a cool morning breeze brushed against her face. Beside her, Saif carried their luggage, his eyes sparkling with excitement. Their long-awaited journey to Saif-ul-Malook had finally begun. After a quick breakfast at a small café near the station, they hired a car and set off towards the majestic Kaghan Valley. As the city disappeared behind them, winding roads welcomed them into a world of breathtaking beauty. The journey itself felt like a dream. Towering mountains stood proudly against the horizon, their peaks kissed by clouds. Crystal-clear streams raced alongside the road, their water sparkling under the morning sun. Every turn revealed a new masterpiece of nature—lush green meadows, cascading waterfalls, and forests of pine trees stretching endlessly across the hil...

  I was never made for noisy worlds, for rooms filled with hidden intentions and smiles stitched with hypocrisy. Since childhood, my heart learned the language of silence, the pause before cruelty, the weight behind certain words, the jealousy hidden inside laughter. People called me rebellious because I could not force my soul to bow before injustice. But I was never fighting for chaos, I was only trying to protect the softest parts of myself. So I walked away from places that made my light feel shameful. I chose distance, not because I hated people, but because my heart was tired of surviving around them. Now I find comfort in quieter things. The warmth of tea between my hands, rain touching the earth gently, wind passing through my hair, sunlight falling on tired eyes like a promise from God that life still carries beauty. The moon feels kinder to me than most people ever did. The stars listen without judgment. And somewhere between the silence of night and the sound of my own b...

  After the wedding chaos, the two of them had finally left for their honeymoon. For the first time in days, there was peace. No guests, no noise, no responsibilities — just Saif and Ayza beginning a new chapter together. They reached the railway station late in the evening because Ayza had always dreamed of a romantic train journey with the man she loved. Her excitement was impossible to hide. She held Saif’s arm closely while waiting for the train, her eyes sparkling like a child experiencing something magical for the first time. Sitting beside him on the station bench, she rested against his shoulder quietly. Saif had always been her safe place in this world — the calm in every storm, the comfort behind every fear. They were traveling to Islamabad by train, and from there they would continue their journey by road to the beautiful Kaghan Valley in KPK. Ayza had one dream she could never stop talking about — she wanted to see the beauty of Saif-ul-Malook Lake with Saif himself bes...

Soft Glow, Strong Soul I am not the storm anymore, I am the sky after rain, clear, quiet, and endless— holding sunlight without pain. No echoes of what broke me, no shadows left to chase, I walk in gentle confidence now, with peace upon my face. A little lighter in body, a lot lighter in heart, I found myself in healing— that’s where new journeys start. No bitterness lives within me, no past I need to fight, I chose my own reflection, and turned it into light. In my glam era, I rise softly, not loud, but deeply seen, a woman reborn in silence— calm, powerful, and serene.                                         KULSOOM AFZAL

I am finally becoming myself— no masks, no expectations, no borrowed identities. I have closed every door that once led me back to pain, back to people who couldn’t see my worth. This is my blooming era. Soft, yet strong. Quiet, yet powerful. I am leaving behind every sorrow that once weighed on my heart, every memory that tried to break me. Now I rise— like the sun after the longest night, warm, fearless, unstoppable. My eyes are set on everything I deserve, everything I once dreamed of in silence. The past no longer calls me back. I walk forward— towards a future glowing with light. A place where pain has no space, where worries fade into nothing, where only peace wraps around me gently. A life filled with true happiness, soft love, and a heart finally at rest. This is me— becoming, healing, rising.                                   KULSOOM AFZAL  

“Who Are My People?” There was a time when I thought “my people” meant everyone I loved. Everyone I showed up for. Everyone I gave my time, my energy, my softness to. But life has a strange way of teaching you the truth. My struggles didn’t just break me… they revealed things. They showed me who stood beside me in silence, and who disappeared in noise. I have known pain — the kind that sits quietly in your chest, the kind you don’t always have words for. I have smiled when I was tired, stayed strong when I was falling apart, and kept going when stopping felt easier. But in all of this… I found something. I found my people. They are not many. They don’t always speak loudly. But they feel like peace. They are the ones who understand my silence, who don’t make me explain my pain, who stay — not just when it’s easy, but when it’s heavy. My people are the ones who don’t drain me, they hold me. Not perfectly… but honestly. And maybe the most surprising truth of all— I became one of my own pe...

  A Candlelit Iftar — A Soulful Ramadan Love Story The Evening of Light and Prayer The room glowed in warm candlelight, soft flames dancing like whispers of peace along the walls. Zara sat quietly at the table, her hands folded in her lap, her heart beating with a calm excitement only special moments bring. Across from her sat Ayaan, his presence steady and comforting, like a silent promise that everything was exactly as it should be. The iftar table was filled with colors and scents — golden samosas, crispy pakoras, bowls of fruit chaat glistening with freshness, glasses of chilled juice, and in the center, a small plate of dates waiting patiently for their sacred purpose. Outside, the world hurried on. Inside, time slowed just for them. Two Souls, One Dua As the minutes before maghrib slipped gently away, both raised their hands for dua. No sound filled the room except the softness of their breaths and the quiet rustle of faith settling into their hearts. Zara whispered her praye...