The Bookish Hijabi Writes

I strolled onto the rooftop, seeking solace under the open sky.  Above me, the heavens had donned their nightly gown—an endless cloak of darkness adorned with countless shimmering gemstones, each one winking softly as if sharing secrets with the wind. Yet, it wasn’t the stars that held my gaze.  It was the moon—a silver orb of mystery, bathing the world in its cold, indifferent light. Its glow caressed the buildings around me, including the magnificent Shaykh-ul-Hind Library, standing like a sentinel of knowledge and faith. To its left, Masjid e Rasheed stood proud, towering in its spiritual grace, gleaming faintly under the moonlight.  These forts of faith whispered stories of our Akaabir, the heroes who bled for our freedom, who gave their lives so we could breathe in the open air. But my thoughts strayed to another place, another tragedy. My heart tightened as my gaze returned to the moon.  You were there, I thought bitterly. You must have watched it all....