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Story time : Echoes in the dark

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“I hear them dragging the furniture every night,” Shahroz shared, his eyes popping out in fear.

“At what time?” Sara asked eagerly.

“Yes, around 3 am,” Shahroz replied.

I took a deep breath. Unlike my cousin’s usual habit, this time they had somehow agreed to wind up the creepy conversation early. Otherwise, they were extremely fond of sharing scary stories at night whenever we cousins met at a place. I was just about to crack a joke when Zara came up with a new story.

“I didn’t want to share this, as it’s my friend’s secret,” she began, lowering her voice, “but I feel you people should know about the haunted corridor in our school!”

There began a spine-chilling story about her friend, who was followed by a shadow in that corridor.

“Oh!” I uttered, disappointment that the topic still wasn’t over.

This is how horror story sessions begin everywhere. Close friends or cousins sit together, chatting casually and all of a sudden someone starts a scary tale. It can happen anytime, anywhere, but it makes the most impact when night has completely settled in, especially during winter, when every sound hits harder. The stories grab everyone’s attention and usually end only when the person who started them dozes off or walks away to sleep.

I am generally a silent listener during such spooky sessions. My problem is that these stories echo in my mind. For days, I get scared of literally everything — a loud door bang, the creak of wooden doors, heavy footsteps, sudden knocks, even the slightest snores. All of it terrifies me badly. So, I usually try to stay away during such scary story sessions, but I never admit this in front of my gang. That would mean handing over my weakness to them and I will never escape being the target of their fun.

“Why do you keep quiet? Don’t you have anything to share?” Zara asked, trying to pull me into the conversation.

“Actually, I’ve learnt to co-exist!” I replied.

It was my shortest and most mature-sounding tagline in such moments. Deep down, though, I knew the blood had almost drained out of my body after hearing just four stories during the current session. And I was sure more ‘treasures’ were yet to be revealed.

This time, we were sitting in the common living area of a three-bedroom rented apartment. We were there to attend a wedding, and the host had rented the place for our convenience. It was quite secluded, which is why we thought it would be more fun to stay there instead of the groom’s main house, which was full of all kinds of relatives. It was our first night there. After travelling from all over the country to finally meet, we were excited and full of energy.

Around 1:30 am, I went to the toilet, the first one to use it. I heard some kids chatting and playing.

“Okay… there must be another family here too,” I thought to myself. “Their kids seem excited and are having fun at night as well.”

I paid little attention to the sounds.

Soon, one by one, my cousins started feeling sleepy and dispersed to their beds. I chose a spot in the centre, with two cousins sleeping on either side. I felt safer that way, though I pretended to be easygoing and not fussy about where I slept. Just as I was about to drift off, I heard strange laughter. I ignored it, assuming my cousins were trying to prank me.

Morning arrived fresh and lively. We gathered happily and left for the groom’s house and there we were assigned different tasks, which kept us busy throughout the day. At night, we returned to the rented apartment for more fun. We practised dance routines for the pre-wedding festivities. Music played loudly as we clapped, whistled and teased one another, especially when someone missed a step or two. It was family fun at its best.

All of a sudden, I heard the sound of a drum, like a typical dholk. I knew someone else was enjoying themselves too… but who?

“There must be other tenants as well,” I reassured myself.

After mastering dance steps to one song, we finally went to sleep. Everything remained calm that night and we all slept comfortably.

On the third day of our stay, Zara and Sara casually mentioned that they heard people fighting and children playing at around 3:00 am every night. They spoke about it very casually. I told them it must be another family living in the building.

Shahroz nodded silently and left the room. He seemed unusually eager to leave, which wasn’t like him at all. He was the kind who enjoyed even made-up spooky tales, and these observations could have given him material for another story.

Days passed quickly, and soon the wedding was over. We had the best time of our lives. As we packed our bags to leave the rented apartment, Shahroz remained quiet, perhaps lost in some troubling thought. He didn’t say anything until we were seated in our train compartment, heading back home.

“One night, I peeped out of the window to see those daring kids who played at 3:00 am in such extreme cold,” Shahroz finally said. “And believe me, I saw small heads playing in the pitch-black lawn. There was no light at all! I also tried to understand the verbal fight most of us had heard every night… but it sounded like a completely different language.”

He paused, then added, “I heard someone’s laughter occasionally too, but it was very shrill, extremely strange.”

Shahroz went on to tell us that he had checked with the gatekeeper of the building. There was no apartment where a family with small children lived. Moreover, no one was allowed to stay in the common lawn area after 11:00 pm.

For the first time in my life, I contributed something to the discussion. I told them that the noises would appear suddenly, very vividly, and then vanish completely the next second. I also mentioned the dholk sound. To my shock, no one else had heard it that night.

The conversation sent chills down my spine, so once again, I decided to handle the situation ‘maturely’.

“It is their world as well; we need to learn to co-exist,” I said, sounding brave. I even noticed admiration in my cousins’ eyes.

Who could tell that my last drop of blood had already drained out, and the shivering was not because of the cold, but because of fear?

Published in Dawn, Young World, January 31st, 2026



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SMOKERS’ CORNER: MIRACLES AND MATERIALITY

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A recent video showing a Quran that survived the devastating fire at Karachi’s Gul Plaza has reignited a centuries-old conversation. Throughout history, accounts of Bibles, Qurans or Buddhist sutras emerging unscathed from catastrophic floods and fires have been celebrated as Divine interventions. While these events offer profound spiritual solace, a closer look reveals a fascinating intersection of material physics and psychological bias.

From a physical standpoint, Dougal Drysdale, Professor Emeritus at the University of Edinburgh, suggests that a hardbound book’s survival is often due to the ‘Closed Book Effect.’ When shut, a book functions as a dense, oxygen-starved block of cellulose. Because fire requires a steady flow of oxygen to consume fuel, the tightly packed pages resist ignition by preventing airflow from reaching the interior.

In the event of a flood, the surface tension of water against tightly pressed pages creates a natural barrier. This prevents deep seepage for a significant period, often leaving the heart of the book perfectly dry.

American psychologist Thomas Gilovich explains that when a sacred text survives a disaster, it often becomes more than just a book. It is elevated to a sacred relic. This transformation, according to Gilovich, can significantly redefine a community’s cultural path. In the aftermath of the 2011 Joplin tornado in Missouri, US, survivors and news outlets frequently highlighted the ‘miraculous’ discovery of intact Bibles among the rubble of flattened homes.

The survival of holy texts in the aftermath of natural catastrophes is often termed ‘Divine protection’, revealing the cultural and spiritual narratives people love to attach to such instances

While hardbound dictionaries and cookbooks likely survived in the same ruins due to their similar physical construction, these secular items were ignored by the media as mere debris. The surviving Bibles were immediately elevated from functional reading material to sacred relics, often being framed and displayed as symbols of Divine protection.

By focusing on these specific books, the media triggered a cognitive bias that led people to view the event through a supernatural lens rather than recognising the simple physical durability of bound paper.

British scholar Susan Whitfield, in her 2004 work The Silk Road: Trade, Travel, War and Faith, details the discovery of the Mogao Caves in China. In that instance, the sealing of the Buddhist text the Diamond Sutra (868 CE) within a dry, walled-up chamber created a “natural vault” that protected the world’s oldest-dated printed book from the degrading effects of humidity and oxygen for nearly a millennium. The perception of such objects often shifts from the literary to the ‘miraculous’.

During World War I, pocket Bibles carried by soldiers occasionally stopped shrapnel due to the high density of their compressed paper. This led many soldiers to treat the Bibles as protective talismans.

The Codex Amiatinus, frequently referred to as the ‘Grandfather’ of Latin Bibles, has survived for over 1,300 years due to its immense physical durability. According to Drysdale, this enormous volume, created around 700 CE in Northumbria, England, weighs over 34 kilogrammes and was crafted from the skins of more than 500 calves.

The use of high-quality parchment makes the Bible significantly more resistant to fire and decay, as organic animal skins lack the highly flammable, oxygen-trapping fibres found in wood-pulp paper. This Bible remained virtually untouched for a millennium, preserved by the stable environment of an Italian abbey that served as a ‘natural vault.’

In West Africa, the Desert Manuscripts of Timbuktu offer a compelling example of texts surviving environmental factors, a story often framed as miraculous. When Islamist militants set fire to the Ahmed Baba Institute in 2013, there was widespread global concern over the potential loss of thousands of ancient Islamic manuscripts. However, according to the researcher Mauro Nobili, the extreme aridity of the Sahara desert was critical in aiding their preservation for centuries.

The persistently low humidity prevented mould growth and kept the delicate ink stable, allowing for their long-term survival, which many viewed as a modern miracle. However, the more vulnerable manuscripts were secretly shifted to safer locations before the militants set fire to the Ahmed Baba Institute.

During the Viking raid on Lindisfarne — a tidal island off the northeast coast of England — in 793 CE, a legend emerged concerning a sacred book, Lindisfarne Gospels, which was said to have been dropped into the sea by fleeing priests. Three days later, it washed up perfectly dry. While this specific account is often considered apocryphal, the physical survival of such ancient texts is frequently due to their durable leather and metal bindings, which act as a protective shell for the internal vellum.

Gilovich would point to stories such as this ‘dry’ recovery of a Bible as prime examples of how the media and oral tradition prioritise miraculous narratives over the mundane reality of material science, thereby reinforcing spiritual beliefs.

According to the prominent professor of psychological sciences J. Park, communities frequently transform these survival stories into powerful symbols of “Divine protection” as a means of processing the profound trauma of disasters. This phenomenon ultimately highlights a dynamic intersection, where material science meets deep human sentiment.

While the inherent fire-resistant properties of vellum offer logical, scientific explanations for the physical survival of many books, the human psychological element remains paramount. The inherent human need to find order, meaning and hope within chaos is what elevates these surviving sacred objects from mere material items to vital spiritual anchors for a community’s recovery and continuity.

The endurance of these texts represents a profound intersection between material science and human psychology. It is not merely the density of vellum, the chemical stability of ancient inks or the aridity of a desert that ensures survival. Rather, it is the way these physical realities interact with our inherent drive to find order in the wake of destruction.

Gilovich’s research posits that when a community witnesses the survival of a sacred text, they are not simply observing a quirk of physics. They are engaging in what Park describes as “meaning-making”, using the survived sacred object to process trauma and reclaim a sense of ‘Divine protection.’ Whether through the preservation of the Diamond Sutra in caves, or a Bible or a Quran found amidst the ruins of a modern disaster, these serve as a bridge between the tangible and the transcendent. Their survival is a testament to the fact that, while fire and time may consume the material, the cultural and spiritual narratives we attach to them remain indestructible.

Yet, it is equally important that we recognise the physical realities of their endurance, acknowledging that the science of material durability does not diminish the ‘miracle’, but rather provides a rational foundation for understanding how the written word survives the very elements meant to destroy it.

Published in Dawn, EOS, February 1st, 2026



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GARDENING: SWISS ONLY IN NAME

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The colour of the mid ribs and stem often determines the name of the variety | Photos courtesy the writer
The colour of the mid ribs and stem often determines the name of the variety | Photos courtesy the writer

Different varieties of leafy green vegetables (locally known as saag) are commonly grown in the Subcontinent due to the favourable growing conditions here. These green vegetables are prepared in traditional meals that contain the signature South Asian touch. However, Swiss chard remains relatively unknown to many.

Swiss chard is one of the easiest-to-grow leafy green vegetables. Unlike other leafy green vegetables, Swiss chard has beautiful bright green-coloured leaves with white, yellow or maroon midribs and stem. No wonder that a few sub-varieties of the Swiss chard are referred to as rainbow chard!

It is also known as spinach beet and leaf beet, while other names reflect the colour of its stems. For instance, the ones with white midribs are referred to as silver beet and those with red or maroon stems are known as rhubarb chard. Its striking colour combinations make it attractive enough as an ornamental plant.

Scientifically known as Beta vulgaris L. var. cicla, Swiss chard belongs to the Amaranthaceae family, which was formerly known as the Chenopodiaceae family. While it is also considered a beet, its root is inedible. Due to its close resemblance to spinach and beet root, it is not recommended to grow Swiss chard near either of them. Pests and diseases affecting beet root and spinach will likely attack Swiss chard as well.

While many other types of saag dominate South Asian kitchens, Swiss chard — of Mediterranean origin — remains largely unknown here…

Contrary to its name, Swiss chard does not originate from Switzerland. The origin of the ‘Swiss’ prefix remains contentious. One theory is that it is widely grown in Switzerland. In fact, Swiss chard primarily originates from the Mediterranean region. However, it is extensively used in Swiss cuisine.

Another theory is that the botanist who first classified this vegetable was Swiss and used the prefix to create a distinction from other leafy vegetables. The most common theory is that the European seed merchants added Swiss to distinguish it from the closely related French chard. If that were not enough to confuse you all, the word ‘chard’ is of Latin origin, meaning thistle — a common gardening term referring to a flowering plant which has prickly bracts.

Swiss chard seeds resemble those of spinach
Swiss chard seeds resemble those of spinach

Swiss chard seeds are easily confused with those of spinach, due to their stark resemblance. The seeds of Swiss chard are faded brown to dark brown in colour. They have a dry, rough texture and are irregular in shape. The seeds are hard and are surprisingly light for their size. Like spinach, one seed of Swiss chard can result in three to four seedlings. For this reason, it is known as a seed ball, containing potentially three to four seeds.

Being hardy, Swiss chard has minimal requirements. One of the best aspects about sowing Swiss chard seeds is that they can be grown in almost any available space. You can grow it on a strip of land, small pots and even around other plants in the same pot. However, when sowing Swiss chard seeds for a full crop, certain aspects should be taken into account.

In climates similar to Karachi, the seeds can be sown from mid-October onwards or when the temperature falls to 20 degrees Celsius. The potting mix should be pre-moistened and clear of pebbles and stones. Seeds should be placed half an inch below the surface and covered with a layer of compost. The soil should remain moist, not wet.

Depending on the desired yield, any pot size can be used, since the roots are small. Pots should then be placed in a cool shade with indirect sunlight. If the Swiss chard plant is being grown in an open field or in raised beds, it should be shielded from direct sunlight exposure, to minimise evaporation.

Some gardeners prefer to soak the seeds in water for four to six hours to ensure better and quick germination. In favourable conditions, Swiss chard seeds are likely to sprout within one week to 10 days.

Please send your queries and emails to doctree101@hotmail.com. The writer is a physician and a host for the YouTube channel ‘DocTree Gardening’ promoting organic kitchen gardening

Published in Dawn, EOS, February 1st, 2026



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ADVICE: AUNTIE AGNI

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Dear Auntie,
Hope you are well. I am seeking your advice regarding a situation that has been bothering me for a long time. I’m a university student and I met this girl. She seemed very interested in me at that time and so was I in her. We had great chemistry, something I’ve never felt in my life. But I never confessed my feelings to her because of certain things I heard about her. Later, I found out she was dating someone. I internalised my love for her for quite a long time, almost a year, until I couldn’t hold it in, and confessed everything to her, even though I knew she was in a relationship.

The nature of my work requires me to face her and, whenever we work together, that chemistry-like muscle memory hits like a truck and I fall head over heels for her all over again. Even though getting her is nothing but a distant dream, I still can’t get over her and long for her all the time. It’s like a stalemate. I would really appreciate your advice on this.
Longing and Yearning

‘I Am Obsessed With a Woman I Can’t Have’

Dear Longing and Yearning,
This is a classic case of excellent chemistry but bad timing. Auntie has seen this film before and the hero always thinks that this one love is ‘different’. Maybe it is different for you. But the situation is very, very old.

Let’s start with the fact that you don’t want to face… that this is not love. This is emotional attachment, mixed with a heavy dose of imagination. And it is a powerful mix, made more powerful because the person in question is unavailable.

Every time you see her, your brain tells you “Ah yes, the unfinished business.” But notice something important… the girl chose someone else. This was not because you are not good enough, but because her life moved in a different direction. That is her choice, and chasing emotionally after someone who has chosen another path slowly kills your self-respect.

The chemistry you talk about is a result of you training your mind for a year to revolve around her. Of course, your brain runs back there. Our minds do what seems familiar and comfortable. Right now, you are feeding the feeling every time you replay moments and analyse your interactions with her. You are emotionally investing in a door that is firmly shut and you are wondering why you feel stuck outside. Of course, you are stuck!

It is time to start acting professionally with her. And it is time to stop any emotional conversations with her and avoid needless eye-contact. When your mind starts romanticising anything about her, interrupt it with reality, by reminding yourself that she is in a relationship and that you deserve someone who is available.

The person who is meant for you will not require this much suffering just to exist in your life. Mutual love is supposed to feel stable.

You are not losing her. You are grieving a life that you imagined. The grief will pass when you stop feeding it. You are simply holding on to an illusion because it once felt beautiful. Just let it be beautiful. And let it go.

Disclaimer: If you or someone you know is in crisis and/or feeling suicidal, please go to your nearest emergency room and seek medical help immediately.

Auntie will not reply privately to any query. Please send concise queries to: auntieagni@gmail.com

Published in Dawn, EOS, February 1st, 2026



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