writing
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A quiet mind is the true birthplace of effortless words. Here’s how to cultivate it, day by day. Most of us believe fluent speech comes from quick thinking, clever ideas, or a sharp tongue. We chase books on persuasion, rehearse perfect phrases, and try to dazzle with polished opinions. But if you’ve ever listened to
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Echoes of an Empty Playhouse– Real Story (By Maq Masi) It began with a whisper, soft as a summer breeze through an open window. “You should get a pet,” my friend murmured, a knowing glint in his eye. My sons, still boys on the cusp of adulthood, erupted in a chorus of joyous shouts, their
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Before the world was, there was no sky, no sea, no dust beneath the feet. No east, no west. No up, no down. No sun, no shadow. No stars to guide the wandering eye. There was no time to move things forward. No space to stretch them apart. No gravity to hold, no light to
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I once wrote an article on silence. Many friends responded warmly—some with reflections, others with questions. One friend opened up about his frustration with his adult children. Though they are all married and living their own lives, they often come to him with their problems. “They never listen,” he told me. “If they had, they
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The Patel Story: Tradition, Transformation, and Triumph AbstractThe Gujarati Patel communities, encompassing Leva, Kadva, Matiya, Muslim Patels (Momin/Momna), Anjana, and Chaudhary, collectively known as Kanbis, have a rich history rooted in medieval Gujarat as village headmen and landowners. This article traces their evolution from peasant farmers to a globally influential community, emphasising their socio-economic rise
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The sun was setting, painting the sky in hues of crimson and gold, as Arvind sat on the verandah of his ancestral home, his eyes lost in the horizon. The sprawling fields before him, cultivated with generations of sweat and dreams, now seemed quiet—too quiet. Inside the house, the faint sounds of dinner being prepared
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In the heart of the Amazon rainforest, where the canopy stretches high into the sky, there lived a family of Harpy Eagles. These majestic birds, with their piercing eyes and enormous wingspans, were the rulers of the skies, feared and revered by all other creatures in the jungle. The family consisted of Arion and Leila,
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The worn leather of the armchair creaked under Elias’s weight. He stared at the flickering flames in the fireplace, their dance mirroring the turmoil in his heart. Beside him, his wife, Elara, sat silent, her gaze fixed on the worn rug beneath their feet. The scent of cinnamon and cloves from the simmering stew in
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Previous Chapter: https://wordpress.com/post/maqmasi.uk/782 The village court was an unusual but grand sight. Nestled atop a small hill, it stood surrounded by sprawling oak trees, its arched windows glowing faintly with morning light. Inside, the courtroom buzzed with an odd assortment of creatures—hens clucked in the gallery, squirrels chattered along the rafters, and at the highest
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Previous Chapter: https://wordpress.com/posts/maqmasi.uk The morning sun draped the farmhouse in soft gold, its light spilling through the slats of the stable and casting delicate patterns on the hay. The air smelled faintly of wildflowers and distant rain, mingling with the earthy warmth of the ponies. Lily, the old man’s 10-year-old granddaughter, skipped down the worn
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