Editorial

Dear Friends,
Assalamu alaikum. Hope this issue will find you in good mood in an ever evolving socioeconomic landscape of the country. Eid is knocking at the next door but not all Eids arrive with laughter, feasts, and festivity. Some arrive wrapped in silence — and sealed in an envelope. Sakib Bin Atiq’s deeply moving story, “The Roar of Rockets, the Silence of Love,” captures one such Eid through the eyes of twelve-year-old Saad, whose brother Haris is away at war. What begins as a tale of longing unfolds into a profound meditation on sacrifice, memory, and the quiet strength of love.

In a world obsessed with material celebrations, Saad’s Eid is painfully different. There are no vibrant outings, no overflowing plates. There is instead a letter — handwritten, tender, and alive with the heartbeat of a soldier who knows he may never return. This letter, from Haris to his little brother, becomes more than a piece of paper. It becomes a qurbani — a sacrifice of words, love, and hope.

Atiq’s story echoes a larger truth. For countless families in war-affected regions or serving nations, Eid does not always mean togetherness. Sometimes, it means remembering those who are far — or gone — and finding the courage to celebrate anyway.

This tale reminds us that real courage is not just on the battlefield, but in the quiet resilience of those left behind. It asks us to expand our definition of Eid — beyond ritual to compassion, beyond festivity to remembrance.

As we exchange greetings and gifts, may we also remember: some Eid gifts arrive not in wrapping paper, but in ink-stained letters. And sometimes, they carry the weight of a world — and the warmth of a heart that still beats through memories. Hope you will like the cover story.

Eid Mubarak — to those who feast, and those who remember.