Dignity Magazine Vol. VII
Cover page by Dania Khan XD Pechs Cambridge
Table of Contents Mirroring Thoughts……………………………………………..4 Global Dignity and Education…………………………………..6 Our Dream Matter Too…………………………………………7 Perceptions……………………………………………………...8 Colours…………………………………………………………10 Give Respect……………………………………………………11 Planting the Roots………………………………………………12 Candle…………………………………………………………..13 A Bud…………………………………………………………...14 Comfort………………………………………………………....15 Be a Buddy– not a Bully………………………………………....16 Dignity painting…………………………………………………17 My Vision……………………………………………………….18 Dignified………………………………………………………..19 Labour Day and Night………………………………………….20 The Hidden Truth………………………………………………21 This Alien World………………………………………………..22 Child Labour: a plague of the world…………………………….24 The Old All Alone…….………………………………………...27 My teacher, my friend…………………………………………...28 Dignity………………………………………………………….30 My Pain…………………………………………………………32 The Hypocrisy…………………………………………………..34
Mirroring Thoughts
I walked into the room to witness a displeasing scene. Although common enough, whenever, I witnessed such a scene it laid heavily on my conscience. Somehow I felt responsible, accountable, and answerable. Agitation took over me and under the shadow of those feelings, I harshly knocked on the door only to grab attention of the headmistress and the unfortunate fellow standing there - Uncle Shahbaz. His eyes doleful, his cheeks flushed with suppressed anger after being subjected to a recent bashing from the headmistress. I barged inside fortunately to get him spared. The next few minutes were mere routine as I monotonously discussed disciplinary issues with Ma’am and left. However, the scene I had just witnessed kept playing over and over in my mind. As I walked out of the room, my eyes meet Uncle Shahbaz sitting on the peon’s chair. His eyes mirrored his pain. The despondency on his face made me promise myself to do something about this issue and an idea popped up in my mind. I was going to make a video documentary, to make others aware of the pain the junior staff goes through. Not wanting to waste any time, I initiated my project the following day deciding to add the interviews of the junior staff. Although at first they were reserved and provident, eventually they opened up after sometime.
“Express your feelings about those particular moments?” I questioned. My timid question received a confident reply. “Does not feel good beta (child). After all the honesty you put in the work you expect some appreciation. Instead you get reprimanded for a petty little thing. You feel shattered. They say that in one’s life he is the most important person and one you should be able to look into the eye. But in the system that has been created we cannot speak for ourselves. They are our boss, we are not theirs”
I was shaken to receive such a bold reply. Next was Aunty Gulnaz. She seemed even more hurt than what I had thought. Her interview went like this. “What do you have to say about all this?” “Beta what they don’t understand is that a dignified post does not grant them the right they most often and conveniently use- the right to hurt another man’s dignity, his ego, his pride, his respect and his self esteem. They can’t stand one word against themselves yet they throw harsh words upon us like our self esteem is a concrete dome and not a glass one. They believe that they are exclusively right and that makes them achieve something, but at the cost of others and that is what I believe is wrong.” Aunty Kulsoom who was aptly listening joined in. “There is a famous quote which goes like stick and stones may break my bones but words will not affect me. I strongly disagree. I believe they hurt us and in the worst way possible. They affect you in the core, eating away your honor, self-esteem and dignity so what you are left with is a person who can’t look himself in the eye. We fall and rise and fall and rise again but there comes a moment when we can’t do it anymore and ultimately become a constant subject to insults. We are never recognized for our efforts but are always questioned for our mistakes.” I was stupefied for the moment. All these years they had been containing in these feelings, were on the verge of exploding but did not act blustery due to needs. At that moment I realized that anyone who has ever struggled with poverty and low ranks knows how extremely expensive it is to be poor. I shut close my camera thinking about how the school would react to such a video. Shuddering all the thoughts a realization dawned upon me. It was my time to defend other’s dignity so I could maintain mine. Every soul is beautiful and precious: worthy of dignity and respect and deserving of love and honor.
Maham Sheikh XI- C Mauve Beaconhouse Multan Main Campus
Global Dignity Day and Education What is dignity? Dignity is respect and honor. The global dignity day is a day of celebrating respect and equality for all. This is what our religion teaches us, and this is the most important value of being a part of humanity. As good Muslims and humans, we are already dignified. However, respect is earned and is a very precious belonging as it can be lost quite easily. We should use our words cautiously and maintain our composure in even the toughest of times. We celebrated this year’s dignity day by visiting the Mashal Model School (school for under privileged children) and it was a fabulous experience and exposure for us as we realized the harsh realities of life. We not only taught the students different skills there, but it was a learning curve for us too. The enthusiasm I saw in those students to learn was quite unexpected, yet delightful, and those students earned respect in my eyes. I indubitably believe that with enthusiasm like those students possess and quality education, Pakistan can produce great leaders and role models for everyone. It is a child’s right to get quality education and have exposure. Unfortunately, that is not the case with the millions of children deprived of education not only in Pakistan but around the globe. This exposure to work with these beautiful children, from a class not blessed like us, taught me and other students what true dignity is. We learned why giving respect to others is a fundamental right for all.
By Salman Khan IX-C-D F-11 Boys ( SG 2 Northern Region)
Education is busy in build future gener education to they should To conclude
s the factor various nations have advanced in all wakes of life. When the Mughals were ding the Taj Mahal, the British were establishing the Oxford University. However, the rations are the pillars of Pakistan and ultimately the world, so it is necessary to give o everyone; after all, we do need electricians and mechanics but the important trait that possess is that they should be accomplished and that can only happen with education. e, I firmly believe that education is the key to human dignity.
Perceptions
Walking in the street on my way to school, I see many people. Some I term as my friends, but there are others, always others. An old homeless person sitting at the edge of the road, asking for alms. A dirty Pashtun child washing cars at the intersection. A guard at the school gates, overseeing the procession of uniforms beside him with a stoic face and a reserved expression on his serene, age-weathered features. And countless other people that I deemed too insignificant to recount. Until recently, I have behaved in what is now best described as an arrogant manner. But I began to see things in a new light from last week when I had to do a community project. To earn some much-needed extra credit, my Humanities teacher assigned me a project; to document the life of one of the junior staff. Thinking I was going to be bored, I trudged reluctantly towards the guard’s cabin across the school grounds. As I slowly made my way to the shack, my breath fogging in the chilly November air, the thought bouncing in my head was: “What am I doing this for? It’s probably a waste of time”. But something deep inside told me to peruse this further. Looking longingly backwards at the warm school building, I tore my gaze away to look at the dilapidated cabin that lay before me. I reached out and knocked tentatively on the stained wooden door. The door opened with a creak and the guard poked out his scrubbed, cold-reddened face. I was finding the right thing to say when he gestured at me and said, “come on in, son, you’ll get a nasty cold out in the chill.” I nodded numbly and walked inside, taking a seat on an old stool. After setting on a kettle of tea for us, Mr. Nadeem perched on the wicker chair across me and studied me with intense grey eyes from under his bushy eyebrows. “Now, son. How may I help you?” To be honest, I was speechless. I had been expecting a rough person with no etiquette, not a man with polished manners and such inherent politeness. “Tell me about yourself!” I blurted out, not sure of myself anymore and immediately hung my head, mortified.
Nadeem regarded me with silent amusement, as if pardoning my outburst.
“Sure. Why not?” he said He then proceeded to tell me a most amazing web of anecdotes spanning his many years. Stories about war; the medals of which he showed me with pride. Stories of how he raised his sons, who were now all studying abroad. He spoke of them with a faraway gaze in his twinkling eyes while a warm smile played across his mouth. I was engrossed, intrigued beyond measure and yearned to learn more about the glorious life this man had lived; a life of pride and joy and dignity. After being occupied with this wonderful storyteller for half the school day, I was roused by the school bell ringing in the distance. I got up, thanked Nadeem for the tea and company and bid him farewell with the promise of seeing him again the next day. That evening, as I was working on my project, I kept thinking about Nadeem. How dignified he appeared now whereas just that morning I had considered him to be just another person with no significance for me. It was depressing for me, then, that so few people appreciate just how dignified and great a person close to you is, and that many more don’t even acknowledge the presence of such people amongst them. Next morning as I was going to school, I again saw the homeless person by the road. I did not view him as insignificant anymore and impulsively asked him what he was doing. I discovered, he had been a great musician of his time, who had gone from riches to rags. The passion with which he recounted of playing the flute and the slight tremor of excitement that shook him as he spoke showed that a person so ruined in person was still proud and dignified in mind and character. Turns out the boy washing cars at the intersection also had a tale of how his family migrated from Afghanistan during the war years, how he was now the sole breadwinner for his siblings and mother. He too was dignified because he labored for his earnings instead of begging for them. My friends, there are seven billion people on this planet. Seven billion lives people lead. All of them unique and fascinating in their own way. Living in harmony is one thing. Living together, stepping into the future hand in hand with honor, respect and dignity extended to all members of society, is another matter entirely. Look at those around you. Look past the present, past the appearance and concentrate on what lies within, what the stories make these people up and how, collectively, even more awe-inspiring tales can be spun together in the future. I have changed my view of the world and those who live in it. It is high time that you too, change your perspective, and make this a better world.
Saadullah Babar A2/E1 Beaconhouse Margalla Islamabad – A levels
Name of the student: Yassal Razaq Class: VII Jasmine BSS Wah Cantt
Colours Far away in a mysteriously abandoned house of a long gone artist, sat his colour palette on the table being dripped on by a black acrylic paint bottle clumsily stashed on the open cupboard above. The artist was a firm believer that everything had a life of its own and maintained this theory for his paint too. The colour palette contained seven different colours kept quite apart from each other; the colour red identified itself with race, orange with gender, yellow with religion, green with nationality, indigo with various skin colours and violet with age. Over time, the colour black from the cupboard above, densest and the deepest of all colours, continued tainting every colour that mixed with its sombre appearance and causing different shades, conflicts and inconsistencies inside the colours thus creating conflicts on the whole palette. An aged paintbrush that had been lying close to the colour palette noticed the gradually increasing conflict suggested that all the colours look the best when they create something together. Having witnessed marvellous paintings being painted by the artist that now caught dust and housed several generations of insects, the paintbrush was used to the sight of colours working together in harmony. The colours having no other suggestions or solutions for their tricky situation that kept worsening over time, decided it was time for all of them to come closer to each other. Together and working collectively: the colours created the most beautiful thing in the abandoned artist’s dusty house, a rainbow. It was a wonderful spectrum of all the seven colours and a symbol of them working united against the colour black. Though their solution was temporary, the colour black would still mix with the colours, the gesture that the colours would take their last stand together was very much appreciated among them and they began to see each other in new lights. The differences between them did not simply matter anymore; they all were part of something beautiful that they themselves had created. It does not matter how short-lived a truce is, it is always better than conflict.
Bhawna Kamal AS Level - Business
Planting the Roots Rehan Mumtaz IX C Shiekhupura Main Branch
Candle
What goes comes back in another domain A person suffering knows the pain. Don’t be unjust As you must
Face God Without a fraud And he’ll be the one to help you in all odds. Selfishness and cruelty have no place And you’ll never be able to reach the card of ace. Everyone has their own beauty Coming in this world with a different duty.
Lend a helping hand And together make a band. Time never stops for anyone Things you let go will always be gone. Be like a candle that lights up the dark In a place where there is no spark. No one’s poor, no one’s rich And someone’s dignity you have no right to ditch. So always maintain Dignity Without any captivity.
Iman Hasnat IX-C Orange Beaconhouse School System, Main Campus, Multan
A Bud
In a clearing far out in the open a bud is sound asleep Until far away a baby wakes and now it is found free; It sways, it blooms, it shines how it should in the rise like a buttercup it shows off its beauty however it could until someone walks up; Up the hill he comes walking calm Grim, he looks at it and slowly reaches down He holds it tightly in his palm and, snap, it unmounts; So fragile, so small, so easy to pluck that only roots are left the only thing in the muck where dignity was once kept.
By Ahmed and Sadiq Middle Section PECHS Campus
Comfort
To give someone dignity Is always his right To give everyone equal opportunities You should stand and fight;
Give someone a helping hand And remove his fright Help them achieve their goals With all your might; Saman Fatima IX-M Sadiqabad
To see them happy and strong Will increase your delight Putting a smile on someone’s lips Will make the world bright.
Haroon Mubin VIII Latifabad
Be a Buddy- Not a Bully By the river he sat down and wrote, That which could have been spoken of. But his paper feelings now far afloat, And his heart, though still unheard, He carries in his hand, Not an ear to listen and not a single friend, So, on the pages, The unspoken thought he flings, Once again, in his ears, the school bell rings. Away with the delight of break-time lunches, And to the horror of kicks and punches. Away with the delight of an orange juice, And to the horror of an ink spill, He holds his heart now fast and still. The beatings of guys, upon him heave, With raised up collars and rolled up sleeves. Who’d often thrash him and steal his food, When surrounding’s negligence, to him is glued. Yet athwart the mirror he hopefully stands, With a fractured nose and a broken hand, He pulls his hair and scrapes his skin, To the hollowed soul that lives within, He questions, in a fainted voice, “ Was this by luck, or the nature’s choice?” With dried up tears and misty eyes, By the river, he sits and cries, But his sob itself shall slumber onFor he’s once a fire already cold, His standards beaten and laughter sold, So by the river he sits and writes, “ What was I abused for?”
Syed Asadullah Class 11-G North Nazimabad Cambridge
Zainab Shahzad VIII White Hafizabad Senior Campus
My Vision
Fajar Rafi VIII C Green Gujranwala Palm Tree Campus
Dignified
DIGNITY is the ability to stand strong and tall While be able to esteem the elders And amble with the small DIGNITY is taking a stand for your beliefs Letting yourself feel like commander in chief
DIGNITY is being an example by your deeds Through your words avoiding gossips and mislead So remember that people will hate you, Rate you, shake you and break you But staying strong will make you Dignified.
Amna Khalid VII P Bahawalpur
Labour Day and Night
The Hidden Truth The morning of October 21st, dawned as normally as any other day. As per routine, I drove to school with my siblings. Though else everything was ordinary, but the air gave a different message today. Everywhere, there were banners and posters reading out quotes and thoughts on ‘Dignity’. Though, I understood that we were celebrating ‘dignity day’, I did not pause to ponder about ‘what is dignity?’, for now it was years since our school had been arranging walks and assembly presentations on this day, every year. Neither did it matter to me nor anyone else. After all why would it? “We are dignified, I know” I thought. And that was my mistake as well as everyone else’s. Come; let’s repeat this mistake, once ‘again’.
The day went on, but never did it occur to me again that it is Dignity Day, nevertheless it was a day meant to be for me. It was the sweepers and maids, laborers and servants, whose day it was. An assembly was conducted at mid-day. Different plays were performed, speeches were delivered and poetry was read out. But, I hardly cared and watched with thorough disinterest. At the end of the assembly, the junior staff; consisting of ayyaas, peons and sweepers was called upon the stage and were given tokens of appreciation. One of the peons received a token from my friend, Amna, Later on, we took part in a peaceful walk on the main road in front of our school. No slogans were raised, only banners were held high and photographs were taken to be published in the next ‘school newsletter’. Amna and I were on our way back to the class when a very old peon asked us to stop. He addressed my friend and thanked her for her token of admiration. His face brightened up with happiness and his lips widened to a toothless grin. As he told Amna, that people like her make his job seem comfortable and satisfactory, I saw his eyes shine. I was unable to understand the cause of the shine, was it pride, joy or beads of tears? “Dignity day is for them and do they have dignity?” I thought as I saw tears rolling down his wrinkled cheeks, in front of a 15 year old. And that day I knew, ‘dignity’ and ‘arrogance’ are two separate things. Dignity is ‘reverence’ for yourself, for your occupation, for your own deeds. It is not only the less privileged class, for whom we celebrate this day, but dignity is equally essential for us too because unlike our beliefs, we are dignity-less. That day, I learnt, “Dignity is every day, every moment, everywhere, for every person”.
Ifra Mehmood X- Cambridge Mauve Beaconhouse School System, Main Campus, Bosan Road, Multan.
This Alien World She stood in tears Amid the several masses of hypocrites; Who looked at her with disgusted eyes, Cowering away; as if she was some brute barbarian.
Their cruel words haunted her As she walked away With the little strength she had left; Wiping away her sorrow, She dreamt about the day When she’ll be able to wear clothes like theirs; When they won’t flinch away from her touch
And Will embrace her with the respect she deserves. They stole her dignity But The little sparks of hope Still remain glowing within her bruised heart.
Photography by Naila Basharat A-2 Frontier Campus A 'levels
Shanzay Waheed VIII Pink Main Campus, Bosan Road Multan.
Child Labour: a Plague of the World I was returning from school when on my way I saw a child selling some cheap toys. I was so angry with his parents that the age he is in, he should be studying in a school instead of spending his days trying to earn a living. Looking at this poor fellow, a question bothered me a lot; why parents do not respect the value of their children’s education and treat them like they are the gift of God? Why is it that the poor do not realize the fact that the answer to their problems is education, and not involving their little ones in earning at such a naïve age? Distressed and perturbed, I reached home and started reading the day’s news. It seemed as if today was a bad day as the first item that went through my eyes was the news about an African village where some group of people were trading children in exchange of handful money. I was utterly disturbed and wanted to do something about this. Everywhere we look, we find young souls being misused and mistreated. The question is who is at fault? And who are we waiting for to solve this problem? Will an angel be sent by God to help each of such child and give him a book in his hand? If only each one of us tries to take this as our own responsibility, this plague will surely come to an end.
Danish Ahmed & Usman Khalil VIII-D PECHS Campus
Photography by Hamza Rashid XF Pechs Cambridge
Painting by Ayesha Xahaya XB Pechs Campus
The Old All Alone The old people alone forever,
Have nobody to talk ever, Just like the lonely and silent moon, Boring nights and the dull afternoons. The isolated old man, Living like a useless fan, The sick old man who has no one to care,
Has a story that he is willing to share. Our responsibility is to give him a hand, Just like a good friend, Today I observed that the world is too shy, Not willing to make the man stop cry.
The old man who has nothing to do whole day, Is waiting for the Judgment day.
Simin Rahim and Laraib Asif VIII-N PECHS Campus
My teacher, my friend
I had nowhere to turn, had nowhere to go This is something you need to know I can’t say what made me trust you I still remember the day when I told you what I’ve been through I thought I should run away, go hide in a hole But then you brought out my true inner soul;
As each day passed our bond became true and hard Each time, I cried You were there by my side;
Then I move to the next grade Man, was I afraid That our trust would slowly fade
But I was wrong Our bond is still strong I’ve got a good fate As I got you as my mate;
Even though sometimes we don’t have the time We at least ask each other if everything is fine Even though sometimes if it is not I feel as if I’ve just been shot I smile and say yes I am fine Then I walk away and you’re out of sight
I am so glad That you were there when I was sad Muhammad Ashar XIC Pechs Cambridge
And this is what makes you Not just my teacher, my friend
Shad Bheroni XI-E Pechs Cambridge
DIGNITY
D ignity is integrity I s regard G ained through the act of N obility and modesty I t is possessed by T hose who show self- respect Y earn for dignity and treasure it.
Iman Attique VIII-A Harley Street Primary Rawalpindi
My Pain My skin itches, covered in wounds and marks unseen, I rub and knead upon it, but sadly to no avail. The skin I wear does not feel mine; does not look like it either, I press against my head to forget, reliving my sorrowful tale. No visible marks lie upon me, yet I feel where his hand grazed my skin, so young and naïve, his actions I could not comprehend. Terrified I stood, as he toyed with me and my underdeveloped mind, smiling down, as if innocent; actions against which I could not contend All my life I struggled to find meaning behind his deed, a hint, a justification, Unable to grasp, I wonder how to a child someone could be so vile. Plunging under waves neck-deep, I reach for an anchor, my anchor too, buried under a meaningless forsaken pile. A war yet not lost, I sit ashamed of how I let my past affect me, plaguing my mind, drowning me in sorrow so deep. Yet I swim, determined to reach the anchor now visible, a decision made that for myself I will no longer weep. Dangling my legs off a cliff, I sit, staring at the vast horizon, My problems don’t seem so important now. Many have gone through worse than what I experienced, Dwelling in my desolate pain I will no longer allow.
The wings torn off, find the creases at my back again As I spread them wide, like an eagle in flight. His actions do not define me, neither will I let them, leaving the confinements of my mind, I now have clearer sight. I pull myself out from dismalness, the time to grieve is gone, stronger than I ever let myself be, and the haze finally leaves. I now believe I am not a victim, rather a survivor, Try as he may, he could not steal my dignity away like thieves. Reflecting upon the negative impact I let settle upon myself, I now focus on bringing change to help others in dire need. Soon many like me will carry the mark of warriors, a constant battle won, a battle against ourselves or the world, together we will succeed.
Lamiah Nasir Uddin AS-A PECHS Campus
The Hypocrisy
They close their eyes just so, they would know the truth as blind as they can be, and they call themselves pure
Touch their heads on the ground for the one whose never been seen They say he’s hope, they say he’s life, they say he’s everything and yet nothing Can you not feel the wind touch cheeks? Can you not see the world, revolve around you? They say “what more can you ask for?” For those who want more evidence For those who fall into the darkness and still want light
And for those who close their doors once and for all They say, those are the ones who burn in fire they are cowards, the sinister and the bastards Whose only sin was that they were strong enough and survived? Whose only sin was to open their mouth and speak the words of wisdom? And whose only sin was that they came into this world No just shall be done as this work is unfair A devil lair filled with crimson green and dark black
No light can pass through these walls even is you hammer them down With darkness in their hearts and emptiness in their minds They ask you to follow the one The one who’s everything and yet nothing Before the bolt touches the ground and struck it open You shall set your journey to righteous path And never look back as that will only cause you to fall, deeper and deeper and deeper Let the air flow through your hair Let it touch your skin and clean your heart, it will take your fears away, to a place made especially for the broken You were not always dead; once filled with colors and blossomed flowers. Your skin lost feelings and your heart lost shine, it skipped a beat and one by one you burned into ashes Every part and every limb You make no sound, neither squawk nor scream You saw it coming long time ago Death by your own hands; clothes strained with blood The wound was too deep and jumped in hells fire For the things which you had done and which still had to be done You said your goodbyes with a grin on your face The lips were too scared to speak up and shout for what they had done, ripped you apart And one by one you burned into ashes And never rose again.
Dania Khan XD Pechs Cambridge
Designed and developed by the Academics Department Beaconhouse Group Head Office. All material included in the Dignity Magazine Vol. V II are reflection from students of Global Dignity Day.
Compiled by: Academics Department - Saeema Khan
Copyright Š 2015 - Beaconhouse. All rights reserved.