Amavas (The darkest night) - The darkest Night) #807631

AMAVAS  (The Darkest NIGHT)
 Written by  Zafarullah
To my mum, dad, and instructors. Their lessons are alive and the journey is going on.
The names of the brothers, Najeeb and Kaleem, who enabled this book to be published.
                    
Here are a few Stories (Fiction) I have for you.
However, I'm not entirely sure. Here are a handful of tales, some based on true situations, some not. Since I find writing to be difficult. I cherished reading and listening to stories all of them, very few. I will create my own writing. Then I started writing with the pen. That was the initial step. I wish my mother tongue were Urdu(I started this in Urdu language,national language of Pakistan.and my own language is Pashto). If only it could be a language.
However, it did occur. In addition, I could not resist giving my salutations to Urdu poets and writers in every genre.
It took me ten years to write this book, but it will take much less time to read
.These are our eastern stories of South Asia. You will find simplicity in it. But when you read it, it will prepare you to know more about us.
Why I couldn't publish it in such a long time. Maybe it was because I didn't know the way. There was no platform in sight. I belong to a poor and resource-poor region. Not all people in the world have the same lives.
These stories are ours own, I wrote them for my people. But then I thought that literature has no borders. So I, myself translated it into an international language. You will encourage me in my endeavor. If this happens, I will realize that life can start anytime
 Let me say.
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Inhabited for centuries, this grand human settlement is inhabited by humans. Eat and drink. Walking around. Doing works… work.
          And then a long list of tasks. Who does what?.Good or evil?.What are the reasons?
  We build relationships. As relations, There are many periods in everyone's life. Then sadness and happiness. And pain and relief are also mentioned. Sometimes the world of the heart is inhabited. Sometimes the opposite happens. There is no uniformity inside and outside. Sometimes friends come in the race of life. Sometimes one is defeated by enemies. Struggling from within and without, the man has been in the struggle forever.
Reluctance surrounded it. It was heard. And sometimes it was rejected. Someone waited. Someone became a burden. The greatness of bread has been maintained since eternity. It incites struggle. The life of every soul consists of struggle. Stories were made in all this struggle. Stories will be made. And stories are being made. The number of stories is endless. Every living thing has a story attached to it. And then more branches come out of that trunk.
Sometimes we read a story. Sometimes listen. See you sometime. So sometimes we just feel. There is even a time when we become the story. For a certain time we remain spectators. And at certain times, they become spectacles. There is a big difference between watching and being spectacles.