Best 16 quotes of Naveed Qazi on MyQuotes

At one point in time, I had thought that my writing was a product of my circumstances.

Bullet-ridden bodies were not saved easily. For these fallen soldiers, it wasn’t a sort of accident that happened unexpectedly, it was rather an ordeal of fate that had to come one day. Death made them lose in its surety.

How long can I mold my identity in the changing world around me? Sometimes, I feel that I am a refugee in exile whose life has been smashed into pieces by many ill facets of ghastly wars.

Humanity found commonalities of faith, religious beliefs and culture but the world around me was far away from it. It had slipped back to its most primitive times.

I was after truth, no matter how painful it was to swallow.

Politics had often changed world history and the worst collateral damage of wars were the common people.

Someone had told me that the Taliban reserve was limitless and there were never huge causalities in their organisation.

The pain did hurt me like a knife and agonised me. A dejected nostalgia inundated my heart but I had to stick with the realities that were sunk in the quagmires of differences.

There was a bewilderment of emotions looming around me. It had been a mixture of sadness and happiness.

There were very few panaceas in a war-torn society.

The truth was simple but politicians made it complicated.

Veiled women were often found begging on the streets. Street hustlers made a living by pickpocketing. There was poverty around where some people could kill each other for bread, there were orphanages that were abundant, where young boys and girls were sold off to their novice masters, for imposed drudgery, that would continue for a major part of their lives.

War had made its grip on the civilians, who were overwhelming, purely innocent and exposed to ritualised slaughters.

Wars were full of valours, coming of courage, fomenting of rage and the anticipation of victory. The soldiers were content with what they had spoiled, but it had made my mind run wild in the battles I had escaped. How could I ever obliterate such memories? Such things were hard to forget.

Whenever a Serb bled or was buried, they would claim the land as their own territory. Such was their fervent nationalism.

When there was sunshine followed by calm winds in the summer, the water of these rivers reflected many shiny ripples, and in the sunset, transformed into quiet, silver coloured watercourses.