Azhar - A Short Story
Short Story Peerzada Muzamil " Although, he can, no longer, see the world, but his dreams, still palpable, are vividly haunting. " They say, ‘wars never end’. They are just draped by illusions of peace. Ever since the Garden of Eden housed Adam and the ensuing The Fall, there have always been wars; sometimes as outrageous as the great war of the twentieth century; sometimes as silent as a sigh of a lovelorn soul. Every time there is some apparent triumph, there, inevitably, has to be a defeat; the entire process submerging mankind in a sheer delusion of victory or even loss while the truth remains that there is no end to the war. People rise again to fight for their nations or their untamed desires, to again portray the end in red; in the bloodstained streets, or the rubble of massacred emotions – the cascading spate of blood and tears, a spiral of insanity and the abyss of sin. You see, how frail and silentious, yet too grave, the first ever war was – fough