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Story time: A lesson learnt

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Illustration by Sumbul
Illustration by Sumbul

“Bhai, look at those toys and their lovely colours. How cute they are!” six-year-old Sidra tried to draw her elder brother’s attention to the toy shop.

“Hmmm, you are right. Look at that red bicycle. I wish to have one like that,” replied eight-year-old Ahmar.

“Then you will ride with me on your bicycle, right?” she jumped happily, clapping her hands.

“Of course! Abbu promised that if I get good marks, he will buy me a bicycle this time,” Ahmar responded.

“And I would love to have new shoes. There was a tale in which a princess wore glass slippers. Do you remember that?” Sidra excitedly added.

“Yeah! The story of Cinderella. I don’t know if such shoes are actually available, and how expensive they would be!” her brother answered.

The two were busy with their discussion and had come quite a distance while talking. Then, seeing a bakery, Sidra’s feet stopped. Her eyes were fixed on the sweets, cakes and pastries placed neatly in the showcases.

“Bhai, do you have some money left?” she muttered.

“Hey… little girl, who are you? What are you doing here?” a man said while staring at her. Just then, she looked left and right in fear.

“Where did my Bhai go?” Out of fear, she started crying and calling out to her elder brother.

Ahmar had walked on, with no idea that his sister was no longer with him. He stopped and looked for Sidra. He rushed back in panic, calling out her name. Soon, he found Sidra crying outside a bakery and immediately ran to her.

“Step back, she is my sister,” Ahmar said to the man near her.

“Who are you?” the strange-looking man pushed Ahmar and he fell.

“Don’t touch my Bhai,” Sidra said and helped him stand up. Ahmar held his sister’s hand tightly.

“Come on, let’s go home.”

“Hey, wait! Let me get her a pastry. You two come with me,” the stranger tried to hold Sidra’s hand, but Ahmar shook it off.

“Stay away! Don’t try to touch or come close…”

They both lived with their parents in a small house. Their father worked at a mobile repair shop, while their mother sewed clothes. Their mother often told them not to accept anything from strangers, or even from known people, in the absence of their parents. They were aware that children could get lost or kidnapped this way. They were not allowed to go with anyone, even someone familiar, without their parents’ permission.

Ahmar had to take care of himself and his younger sister. Holding her hand, he almost ran away from there.

“Bhai, are you hurt?” Sidra asked with concern.

“I’m fine.”

“How will we go home? Do you remember the way?” she asked in panic.

“It’s my fault. I must not run after the colourful kites and you should not have followed me. We are far from home. I can’t remember which turn we must take,” Ahmar said while looking around.

As they walked, they reached a square. Three roads led from there. One of them led to their house, but which one? They noticed that people around them were looking at them strangely and suspiciously.

Just then, Ahmar saw something familiar in the distance and said, “Look, that is Uncle Karim’s milk and yoghurt shop. I often come here with Abbu.”

They ran towards the shop, where Uncle Karim was surprised to see them.

“Kids, what are you doing here? Do you need anything?”

“Uncle, we made a mistake. While playing, we lost our way and wandered far away. Somehow, we managed to reach here. We didn’t ask anyone to help us find our way, but we cannot figure out our street.”

“Good decision. Don’t ask directions from strangers. Your house is just two streets away to the right. You will reach there in two minutes. My son will take you there.”

“Thank you so much, uncle.”

Ahmar, holding his sister’s hand, walked towards home with Uncle Karim’s son.

When they reached home, they saw their mother teary-eyed.

The children were late, and she didn’t know where they had gone. They ran and hugged her tightly. They apologised for being late and told her everything that had happened.

Their mother listened quietly and then held them close. “I’m proud of you for not trusting the stranger and for remembering what I always tell you,” she said softly. “But you must never wander away from home without telling us. The world is not always safe for children.”

Ahmar nodded and looked at Sidra. “We will be more careful next time,” he said. Sidra hugged her mother and promised never to leave her Bhai’s hand again.

That day, both the children learnt an important lesson — that being careful, staying together and not trusting strangers can keep them safe.

Published in Dawn, Young World, February 14th, 2026



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The weekly weird

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Cow seen using tools for first time

www.huffingtonpost.com, www.upi.com, www.apnews.com
www.huffingtonpost.com, www.upi.com, www.apnews.com

Researchers in Austria have recorded what is believed to be the first known case of a cow using tools. The study focuses on Veronika, a Swiss brown cow in Carinthia, who was seen using sticks and brushes to scratch herself.

Scientists from the University of Veterinary Medicine in Vienna say Veronika has been picking up pieces of wood for years and later began using a long brush, choosing different parts depending on where she wanted to scratch.

The findings, published in Current Biology, suggest cows may be more cognitively capable than often assumed. Researchers note that Veronika’s actions were clearly intentional and she uses the same tool in flexible ways rather than randomly.

Moon hotel opens early bookings

www.huffingtonpost.com, www.upi.com, www.apnews.com
www.huffingtonpost.com, www.upi.com, www.apnews.com

A California start up has begun accepting deposits of up to $1 million for rooms at what it claims will be the world’s first hotel on the Moon, planned to open by 2032. Final room prices are expected to exceed $10 million.

Founded by 21-year-old Skylar Chan, GRU Space plans to build the hotel using robots that turn lunar soil into building blocks. Construction is expected to begin in 2029, pending approvals. Chan says the project reflects a future where humans may live beyond Earth.

Flat freezes into ice castle

www.huffingtonpost.com, www.upi.com, www.apnews.com
www.huffingtonpost.com, www.upi.com, www.apnews.com

An apartment in Trois-Rivières, Quebec, turned into a real-life ice castle after a tenant switched off the heating while away on holiday to save money. When owner Jacques Nault entered the flat earlier this month, he found the walls, ceiling, furniture and appliances coated in thick ice, with nearly 30 centimetres covering the floor.

The extreme cold caused water pipes to burst, leading to tens of thousands of dollars in damage. Nault said rising living costs may have influenced the decision, but warned it was a costly mistake. The tenant was evicted and the apartment now needs major repairs, with insurance expected to cover part of the cost.

Ancient olive tree still bears fruit

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www.huffingtonpost.com, www.upi.com, www.apnews.com

In Ano Vouves, Crete, one of the world’s oldest living olive trees continues to produce olives after around 3,000 years. The protected tsounati olive tree has a massive trunk measuring about 12.5 metres in circumference and grows from wild olive stock.

Its exact age cannot be confirmed, as olive trees rot from the inside as part of natural renewal, but ring studies show it is at least 2,000 years old. Scientists believe it could be closer to 4,000. The tree attracts thousands of visitors each year and has survived droughts, fires and centuries of human activity.

Published in Dawn, Young World, February 14th, 2026



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Story time: New beginnings

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Illustration by Aamnah Arshad
Illustration by Aamnah Arshad

Deep down in Felicity’s Yarn Shop lived a light pink yarn. That’s me. I’m not exactly enjoying my time here. Every day, I stare out, hoping that today will finally be the day someone takes me home.

For the past 795 days, I’ve watched every other yarn get chosen, one after the other. Even the newcomers get chosen, but me? I’m still here. Lonely. I’m the only yarn left in the beige basket. I wish… I really wish someone would pick me today.

Oh, look, there’s Felicity’s regular customer, Anna. Anna is looking for pink yarn. She doesn’t like hot pink, rouge, puce, Barbie pink or neon pink. The only pink yarn left is light pink — that’s “me”. I was bound to be chosen. I closed my eyes and hoped that I would be held.

And… yay! Anna chose me. My heart sang with excitement. I was extremely glad she chose me instead of all those show-off pinks.

Now I’m at Anna’s place, in her room and I’m enjoying it a lot. Anna has already started crocheting. Is she going to turn me into a cosy scarf? A baby blanket? A pink flower? There are so many possibilities. I try talking, hoping to ask Anna what she’s making… but then I remember I can’t speak. I’m an inanimate object!

So far, everything Anna has crocheted has been amigurumi — the Japanese art of crocheting or knitting small, stuffed yarn creatures or objects, often with cute, oversized heads and small bodies. I suppose that means I’ll be an amigurumi toy too!

And guess what happened next? I’ve become an amigurumi axolotl. And I love my new identity. I literally look so cute with those tiny eyes, those adorable fins and that little bow on my right ear. Oh… my God! I don’t look anything like the lonely yarn I was just a day ago.

I soon realise that Anna has a crochet website called “The Amigurumi Artist”. When she took me, packed me neatly in a satin sheet and then placed me inside a nice little box — my home — I was being sold to someone named Cindy. I hope Cindy is just as kind and caring as Anna.

My trip to my new home was smooth. When the box was opened, I saw a cute girl looking at me excitedly. Her smile made my day and my life felt worthwhile. Cindy is really nice, kind, gentle and a little shy too! Hopefully, she treats me the same way she seems. Now I’m at Cindy’s place, and it’s amazing. She placed me carefully on her side table and I hope I’ll live a wonderful life here.

It has been a week since I moved to Cindy’s home and I’m really enjoying it. Sometimes Cindy hugs me gently; sometimes she dusts me and cleans me like I’m precious. From a forgotten yarn in a beige basket to a cherished amigurumi axolotl… life feels stitched together perfectly now. Maybe yarn can’t speak, but somehow I found a way to be heard — through the love stitched into every loop of who I’ve become.

Published in Dawn, Young World, February 14th, 2026



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Story time: A driving lesson from my mum

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“STOP!” they shouted. I slammed the brakes and the car jerked to a halt, jolting all of us forward.

“When I say stop, do stop!” scolded Mum.

“Oh… aah… no…,” gasped my sister as she looked beyond me, into a gaping hole dug into the ground, bigger than our car, that we would have fallen into. My heart beat fast as I slowly and carefully shifted into reverse and backed up.

Learning to drive isn’t easy, at least not for a constantly zoning-out person like me. Anyway, what happened next was, I think, the most embarrassing part.

For the last twenty minutes of my turn to drive, and for half an hour before that, when it was my sister’s turn, a young chap had been riding his bike around the ground where we were practising. And no, it wasn’t normal biking. He was pulling all kinds of illegal and dangerous stunts, like a performer in some circus. I know that sounds mean, but he kept circling us, clearly putting both us learners and himself in danger.

I turned and steered the car towards the cricket pitch where I was supposed to practise when Mum, my instructor, noticed two policemen scolding the biker. I looked up too and saw them giving him one or two smacks.

“Ah,” I smirked. “Now he won’t even try to disturb us.”

Once again, my heart dropped into my shoes as Mum shouted, “Stop!”

Why me? Oh no. I would never decipher an instruction in one go.

“STOP!” they both screamed.

I pushed hard on the brake, making our guts somersault inside our tummies.

“When I say stop, you have to stop! You didn’t see such big rocks, beta? I thought you’d turn!”

“Oh, they were so big, Amna, I saw them from so far away….” my sister joined in.

Frozen, I slowly turned towards Mum, who had now shut her eyes tight in frustration. I shifted into reverse, hoping we could escape the rocks that way.

“No, switch to drive,” Mum said slowly.

I drove on. GRRRRRRRR.

“Stop. STOP!”

I braked, sighing.

“Reverse. Reverse the car!”

I reversed.

We jerked back suddenly.

“Stop, STOP!”

I braked, and then I saw them. Two huge rocks, far bigger than the bricks used to build walls, lay right in front of us. I gulped.

As we drove home, I sulked in my seat. I thought of never learning to drive with my mum again. I was annoyed, angry and hopeless.

But back at home, while washing my face, something struck me. Why lose the chance to learn driving over small, silly emotions that practically meant nothing? Learning to drive was far more important. My mum taking time out to teach me during my vacations was far more important.

I sighed. No pain, no gain. And no more zoning out, my brain!

Published in Dawn, Young World, February 14th, 2026



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