The Rapport – Issue # 3


Whats Inside:

Walking on colours by Amna Akmal

Kindred by Eman Fatima

Survival in a Scary Society by Hadia Qureshi

Life goes on by Hooria Nawaz

Wanderer of a Lost Path by Raveeha Rameen

Nature Walk by Mahnoor Munir

Quietus by Muskan Asif

The Lighthouse by Sumbal Khan

Her Own Infinities by Tooba Fayyaz

Note: The cover photo is by Fatima Bokhari.
(Email: fatibk14@icloud.com, Instagram: @thephotoaisle)


Walking on Colours by Amna Akmal


Name: Amna Akmal
Email: amna.akmal96@gmail.com
Instagram: @heydoodyyy


Kindred by Eman Fatima


Name: Eman Fatima
Email: emanminhas8@gmail.com
Instagram: @eman.a.r.t


Survival in a Scary Society by Hadia Qureshi

Alas, we live in a society
which completely lacks sobriety
people here can only give you anxiety
don’t trust every hand you shake
some people are simply fake

Somewhere you have become hollow
for you it’s difficult to swallow
you know that your pain is so deep
every night it doesn’t let you sleep
your purpose you haven’t found
you are completely astound

You won’t get any sympathy
people here lack empathy
despite efforts, none will encourage
don’t give up, have some courage

Name: Hadia Qureshi
Email: hadiaqureshi10@gmail.com
Instagram: hadiaqureshi10


Life Goes On by Hooria Nawaz


In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: “it goes on”. Yes, you read it right, it goes on. No doubt, life is beautiful but it is also challenging. The challenges that we come across sometimes tell us who we are and sometimes what we should be. There will be bad days, there will be struggles, but still it goes on. No matter who you are, it teaches a lesson to everyone. You just have to be willing to learn. Difficulties test the courage, patience, preservation and the characteristic of a human being. Struggles and hardships make a person strong and ready to face all the challenges of life. Sometimes, people sit and cry over petty problems and think that this is the end, but still life goes on. These petty problems don’t mean a thing as it is said that the darkest hour of the night comes just before the dawn. Life is not just a bed of roses; thorns are also a part of it and one must learn to accept the thorns too because if you don’t feel the pointed things in life, you will take the soft ones for granted. Whatever happens in life happens for good. Whatever decision God takes for us is already planned and we must learn to accept it. When God tests you or removes something in your possession, it is never to destroy you or it is not the end, it is only to test you and give you something even greater – something which you could’ve never imagined having.

Name: Hooria Nawaz
Email: hoorianawaz22@gmail.com
Instagram: hooria_nawaz


Wanderer of a Lost Path by Raveeha Rameen

I looked at the brilliant full moon, it seemed to know the entirety of my mysteries. After the mists secured the moon, a shooting star streaked above it as if it was instructed by the moon itself to make me pronounce my wish. I remained there under the huge sky and looked up with my yearning eyes. I bit my tongue on the off chance that I might say what my heart already knew. I did not need to make my wish. Maybe it’s what my heart aches for. Maybe I simply professed to move on. Maybe I never discovered my way back. Maybe I’m currently lost in the immeasurability of the sky and the depths of the night. Maybe I have made depression a norm for myself. I need to escape from the web of recollections. When I ought to be appreciative of what I have, I’m looking back at what I have lost. I’m lost in my dreams and it’s keeping me far from the real world. I’m lost. I long to escape to be discovered only for once. I need to accept the truth however; I’m drowning in wistfulness. Maybe because you made me feel something once and that feeling continuously compels me to return to you. I’m being drained but nobody sees. I can’t get up. How can I fix myself, when I don’t recognize what holds the greater part of me?

I would rather just stay broken.

Name: Raveeha Rameen
Email : raveeharameen8@gmail.com
Instagram: Rameen028


Nature Walk by Mahnoor Munir

Name: Mahnoor Munir
Email: samunir55@gmail.com
Instagram: mahnoor_munir.5


Quietus by Muskan Asif

There’s a monster under my bed
a wraith inside my head
and blood in the tears
my crimson eyes shed;
for my distraught heart has bled
more pitch-black than red
all my feelings have faded,
and into mere oblivion
all the memories I had
without a trace, have fled;
as I await the final blow
advent of the angel of death;
but my functioning, yet empty, self
may deceive the observers
I’m perfectly fine and satisfied,
no dear, I’m a walking corpse
emotionally dead;
and once my time arrives
as I gasp for my ultimate breath
I recognize it as a beginning
because physical pain will succeed
the mental torment I endured;
then, decay will surface
and my carcass may shred
I will be okay, like I’m today
so you shall not dread
as this apparent death
is my only escape.

Name: Muskan Asif
Email: muskan.asif.2007@gmail.com
Instagram: @muskan_writes


The Lighthouse by Sumbal Khan

Name: Sumbul Khan
Email: sumbul.khan1801@yahoo.com
Instagram: @acryliques


Her Own Infinities by Tooba Fayyaz

Name: Tooba Fayyaz
Email: toobafayyaz1010@gmail.com
Instagram: @theprocrastinatormusings


Chapter 5 – The Calm Before The Storm

I was standing on the porch of my house, which was slowly decaying as the principals that I had made the house from waned. There was a strange whisper in the wind that carried a vague message. It seemed to be a message of hope. Rain was coming. I stood there and stared at the vast sky and anxiously waited, so I could greet it. The sun slowly grew a little colder, from blistering hot to a pleasant warm as the dark clouds that carried rain slowly entered the scene. A smile appeared on my tired face after a very long time. I clapped my hands in joy and stared at the sky and the fields. The rich blend of colours in the scene gave me a new kind of energy, perhaps a fresh perspective. The brown fields, thirsty for rain, moving in waves as wind passed through them. The brown faded into blue and the fields became the sky, which had grey clouds slowly covering its entirety. The yellow of the sun was scarce now, but it was still present.

The first drops of rain came gently, slowly moistening the dry ground. I put my hand forward and let the drops fall on my arm. I took a deep breath and reveled in the smell of rain. The dry soil and the rain drops created a pleasant petrichor which reinforced my bones. I laughed and watched the rain wash and water my fields. For a moment, all my principals grew as strong as ever and my house was renewed. My personality and my character which I had used to decorate the house was enhanced. The floor of empathy and the walls of honesty grew stronger. The roof of kindness and the doors of generosity, the windows of love, the furniture of simplicity, the curtains of hope, the fence of loyalty and the foundations of modesty; everything was suddenly restored or so it seemed. The paint of honour and integrity that covered the house was as bright as ever. I smiled and stepped into the gentle rain. There was a calmness that I had longed for quite a while now. I closed my eyes and let myself soak.

There was a sudden flash of very bright light, followed by a great sound. My eyes opened and I was shaken. I looked up to the sky in question, and there was another bright flash of light and another noise. It was thunder, and it worried me more than it scared me. I have found that loud, invasive and immoral people bring ill things with them, and the same applied to the thunder. It was not just rain; it was a storm. The calm before the storm was but a device of nature, much like the treachery of people who build trust before deceiving you. The rain grew in volume and in intensity and there was a relentless onslaught. The field, I saw were now drowning, and the mischievous water seeped into my house and soon, I was waist deep in a flood. As I waded towards my house, It disappeared right in front of me. There was nothing left, and I stood there in disbelief. All those years, all the hard work gone.

Everything will be Alright

Shed no tear,
oh, shed no tear!
for this situation
which you believe to be
the demise of you
will eventually pass
and become just a whisper
of what once was.

Dry your eyes,
oh, dry your eyes!
for in life, every situation
that you find yourself in
is simply another stepping stone
towards your own growth
and greatness.

Breathe, my dear,
just breathe, my dear,
for I promise
that in the end
you will emerge and prevail
from the ashes of yourself
and live the life
which you deserve.


A Good Death

The dye is cast,
And the fabric is sodden red.
Amongst the other clothes,
It stands out.

We sat, and you shared the bad news.
Upon reflection, I can’t believe your calmness.
All men die, trust one, one knows,
But to claim the inevitable as some grand design…
No.

There’s pain of the flesh, pain of the soul,
She’d have always said stay, despite the cold.
So I light a fire that roars softly,
The ash wood crackles,
I told myself then, that the wood I see,
Was once a living tree.


Chapter 6 – The Impending Bewilderment

There was a time
When my thoughts were more coherent. . .
I was journeying swiftly
How did I become so desultory?

The path was clear,
Bare under the sky
How did it evade me?
When it was under my feet

Oh! I have been searching
Long forgotten and lost
Clad in abundant verdure,
Does it not want to be tread?

Or perhaps it was a thought
A mere creation of the mind . . .
I think of abandoning my search
Should I sift my heart instead?

In the timeless forest of my memory
I await for a long night
Maybe the north star will reveal itself
And guide me to my road?

Our Odyssey

I sat with you that day,
My long-time friend.
We drank to company in front of the sun,
That faded from blue to orange.
Giddy, we smiled and laughed that day.

We had chosen Yalu River to sit by,
As the speaker of day, its water wavered,
With rays of sunset that painted a shimmer.
Joyously, we counted the petals that sailed the current,
Happy, we drank and we drank that day.

As the light cooled, the drinks felt warmer,
Do you remember, my friend?
We lent against the city’s gate,
Whose stone did stand strong.
Oblivious, we had cried out and laughed that day.

Our eyes were averted from the reeds,
That sprouted from the riverbed,
They rustled, of course,
But only when we turned our head,
Where crouched amongst the grass it lay,

You had spotted then, or so you thought,
Something in those reeds – that did contort,
Some small bird, that could want our bread,
But as forward you crept, the animal leapt,
And with a cry you bled that day.

On a winter’s morning,, now I stand alone,
With bundles of disgruntled reeds,
Those that I plan to lay,
At the stone that represents your body,
And at the words that represent your life.



“Too curious, careless and kind.”


Ballad of Solemnity

The rolling skies stretch far,
Torn by clouds that smear the blue canvas.

Like knives that threaten to strike the sun,
Huge peaks, jagged, are tipped with the poison of snow.

Monolithic mountains encircled by clouds,
Wisps of smoke trail from the cliffs otherwise bare.

One peak harbours blossom, sprouting pink over grey,
With a mountain breeze the petals are shaken free.

Beneath the branches; above the stone snow,
Sits a zither, strummed by a lone soul.

She is covered in white robes that flow like a mountain river,
White like the blossom of the cherry tree, white like the snow,

White like the ocean island clouds, white like the moon.
To whom does one play such a solemn tune?


Chapter 6 – The Sincere Betrayal

He was poisoned slowly while they cut and crafted
A chasm was made away where he was casted
Three hundred trees were carefully planted
Mischievous were their roots and their trunks were slanted

His mind was scraped and thoughts distilled
They collected his words with passion and thrill
With deception thereof, all was rendered
A spurious tale then they tendered 

Yet the peaceful spirit, they could not break
The magnanimous heart, they could not take
With three hundred trees, on his back
He leapt forward, away through the gap

A fire was lit among the trees
Quickly it spread riding his spine
He held on to the ledge and let himself burn
But a part of himself he did not let turn

All the cruelties he managed to endure
When what he saved was taken away
To the edge he could not hold on anymore
Alas! During the fall all he could do was pray

Bright light split through the chasm
He felt her and yearned to gaze upon her
With a great cry he fell below however
In darkness he was silenced forever