Aqeel Ahmad

  I was born into a time when things had meanings, friendship was akin to brotherhood, and parents and grandparents were our first teachers. We mimicked their actions, and neighbors would hold up our good behavior as examples for their own children. As a child, everything seemed fresh and new; we were learning the real, albeit simple, truths of the world. I remember feeling terrified of taking written exams on a clipboard because, until third grade in our government school, we only had verbal exams. Life was different then; it had meaning. Days were long enough to play cricket twice when school was off. We shared so little—a plate of biryani with friends, or a kulfi with my brother—yet it brought immense happiness. There were no life aims or strategies to achieve them; it was simply me, living a comfortable life with family and friends, blissfully unaware of the harsh realities of the world. But what seems real is often a fabrication by those who benefit from our ignorance. What ...