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Our Profiles are finally up! Short, purely dignified reflection of our experience, our venture and our most unreasonable passion to be become Unreasonable Fellows.

Checking my profile finally from the eyes of an outsider I see answers to some questions; carefully given, a profile picture cropped to fit and a small video to showcase the work I and my team have been able to do…. Or is it? Because in the visible reflection of my page I also see something else, I see memories....thousands of them, flooding back to my mind forcing me to wonder back to those times.... not long ago...

The bright heated day time of Balochistan, a small group of people meeting together to unite over a mission, those anxious hours till our first activity finished, the rushing around to make things perfect, the change of moods of my family, the forlorn looks, the challenge growing and the establishment of a goal which saw no changing in it and wont ever.

Among all of them, one of the memories most rampant in the deepest folds of thousands other’s is July 2007. We at Sughar were organizing a grand seminar with politicians at Balochistan and I had 3 days to my annual exams of Intermediate in Karachi, the conflict was most tremendously overwhelming, I needed to make it beforehand to Karachi for my exams, or stay and avail the first ever opportunity to push forward the issue of Honor Killing in political highlight (which was a now or never situation).

I decided to stay.
The seminar was a great success but now when just one day to my exams left, monsoon rains took courage and unfortunately huge rains fell that night, resulting the mega floods of 2007, breaking a few dams, two bridges and effecting thousands of villages.
There was no way I could leave for Karachi even for a whole month to come.

I was devastated!

But it did took me raw courage to plead one of my cousins to take me to Karachi no matter what! And thus right when my first exam was taking place in a silent, quite, comfortable hall of an examination center in Karachi. I was crossing mountains with rocky, flooded roads in a jam packed and suffocating mini-bus.
A kid in her mothers lap on my right decided to weep non-stop until the suzuki halted at Lasbella and driver announced the worst of news.
The road ahead was blocked and suzuki couldn’t pass.

Glancing out of the window I could see a huge unending line of trucks, loaded with cargo, buses with people peeking out from windows, doors and roofs.

The heat was unbearable now, with my scarf wrapped around my head I could experience the heat of an oven, and sitting and waiting seemed being roasted on my own consent.

Thus In the piercing sunlight and damp hot clothes I and my cousin clutched our bags and set off on foot ahead to see what was going on.50 minutes walk and I could see red dots in front of my eyes, crossing the huge unending line of the vehicle and crowds of people impatiently trying out different facials of disapproval, we found out the truth behind the block.

Pollari river ran wild!
The bridge to the huge river was broken and vehicles stood either sides of the road.I could see some people standing inside of the river holding ropes to help people cross the river. Setting foot in the river now seemed like the craziest idea ever and the fact that no women were doing it, only busy looking men with cartons of vegetables on head came into sight crossing the river.
There I was half shrieking, half crying damp in sweat, drenched in water crossing the roaring river of pollari.It took us half hour across the river and a whole hour to request veguns stuffed with people from all sides to take us to Hab city (near Karachi).

Later we sat out of shape in a police jeep making our way to Karachi, drinking warm mineral water and not minding the dust that made homes of our ears, nostrils and eyelids….

I gave my 3 missed papers in 2008, missed a whole year of education and made my lifes most unreasonable memory ever!

YouthActionNet® Retreat Washington D.C, USA

I looked out of the window on the still trees with beautiful glints of yellow, red and orange proudly standing in the dawn of autumn, greeting the new weather and new comers with waves of joy and murmurs.

I wasn’t tired, or if I was I didn’t feel it. The steep road that led to somewhere I never knew was to stop at my last destination, a small inn in the centre of elegant city of Washington D.C, after a long journey from Pakistan.

The cab was moving with a slight pace, right enough to let me follow through the sculptures of new earth or as my mother puts it, a world after the seven seas.
Things had happened very quickly as I recall them, My selection among the 20 young leaders of the world to be awarded was more then a dream to me. I remember my cheering out in happiness, my celebrations and my pride. But I do remember among all my parents…… my mother……
I remember how afraid she was to let me go, I had felt it even at the time she said, “oh of course I know my girl is the bravest person on earth”, her voice had shook at the last words…….the lines on her forehead told me the story of their sacrifices, it repeated the truth of all the risks my parents have taken to let me be the one that no other girl of my whole family couldn’t be…………..this is my brave mother.
Dad was quite amazing with the way he acted, though he left to Balochistan two days before my departure as a severe earthquake has hit, but leaving with his bag clutched in his determined hands and his busy mind and sober face, he had looked at me in the eyes one last time reminding me again with out having to speak a word, of the honor he had given me………he reminded me of the time he would take me in his lap as a little girl and would tell me how successful a person I have to become. The times I held his finger and he would look down at me with the smile that told me , “I m always there for you my child”…….he is the dignity of my soul, the cause of my success, the truth of my freedom…….he is my brave father.

My eyes filled with water at the thought of all this as the cab was now moving down calm streets, with not much of people walking by as it was 7 in the morning. I set up straight, forced a smile hoping my parents see it.

The cab soon halted, it was a quiet street with a few cars standing along the corners, with doors of restaurants, inns and bars closed tight not to let the jerking cold winter wind inside.

I looked at the words up in the place I would be living in for the coming week with other 19 young people from around the world and stepped out in the piercing cold of November with the yellowed weak leaves flying uncertainly in the wind asking me to welcome the new experience and wipe away the tear that couldn’t hide itself in my eye.