{"id":5557,"date":"2026-01-05T14:15:01","date_gmt":"2026-01-05T14:15:01","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/noukeqalamnews.com\/en\/?p=5557"},"modified":"2026-01-05T14:15:20","modified_gmt":"2026-01-05T14:15:20","slug":"yesterday-then-and-now-when-faraz-revisited-the-truth","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/noukeqalamnews.com\/en\/yesterday-then-and-now-when-faraz-revisited-the-truth\/","title":{"rendered":"Yesterday, Then, and Now \u2014 When Faraz Revisited the Truth"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

\u2712\ufe0f:. Syed Majid Gilani<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The journey did not start on a highway. It began quietly, deep inside Faraz\u2019s heart, where memories of home and distance had lingered for three long years.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Three years is a long time in a child\u2019s life\u2014long enough for silence to settle, for doubts to grow quietly, and for lies and fabricated stories to start feeling like truth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

During this time, cases were filed and allegations were made. Words like careless, absent, and non-providing were attached to his father\u2019s name. Courts would decide in time. Truth, too, has its own pace. Everything waited.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But destiny chose a simpler path first: Papa and his son, alone on a road, far away from Kashmir.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Faraz returned to his roots not because anyone asked him, not because he was persuaded, but because he wanted to. He came home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Soon after, Papa and his son set out on a journey\u2014just the two of them\u2014in their modest car. Papa had intentionally planned to take Faraz to every place they had once visited together\u2014hotels, dhabas, bazaars, shops, picnic spots\u2014so that every memory, every small moment, could quietly return.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They crossed highways and small towns, tikka shops and eateries, hotels and roadside dhabas, tourist spots, and countless unnamed roads.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At one stop, near a temple, they ordered local traditional snacks. Tasting them, Faraz was carried back to a time when Papa had once fed him the same snacks with his own hands. Memories of all their trips, big and small, returned\u2014the way<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Papa cared for the family, the quiet gestures of love he had always given, without ever asking for recognition.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At every place, memories whispered back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThis road\u2026,\u201d Faraz murmured. \u201cYou took us all through here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThis dhaba\u2026,\u201d he said, his eyes moist. \u201cWe sat here together.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe toy shop\u2026 where I got my red remote car.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe little garment shop\u2026 where my blue jacket was bought.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe tikka shop\u2026 where the chutney dropped and spilled on my trousers,\u201d he added, laughing quietly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd the barber shop\u2026 at the narrow lane corner\u2026 where I cried and wept,\u201d he said softly, remembering Papa\u2019s gentle presence that day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Papa smiled gently. He did not explain. He never defended himself. He simply did what he had always done\u2014paid the bills, ordered food, made sure his son ate well, asked if he was comfortable, and waited patiently.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The journey moved on, each mile carrying them closer to the past. Papa drove, and Faraz watched, quietly absorbing everything.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As they drove, the journey took them to one familiar spot. Papa paused, looked around, and said softly, \u201cHere\u2026 we once clicked a photograph.\u201d
Faraz froze. The place was exactly the same. They stood at the same spot, took the same pose, and clicked another photograph. Earlier, the frame had held everyone\u2014Papa, Faraz, his younger siblings, and their mother. Today, it held only two.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yet something quiet and deep happened. The old photographs\u2014stored in phones, albums, and memory\u2014came alive. One by one, they returned to those places: the same roadside bend, the same caf\u00e9 corner, the same hotel corridor, the same street where laughter once echoed.
Yesterday and today stood side by side\u2014not erased, not replaced, just changed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Slowly and unmistakably, Faraz began remembering: school fees paid on time, uniforms neatly arranged, books and tutors ready, trips planned without hesitation, money spent without counting, and love given without conditions.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The accusations he had heard could not survive the truth of memory. That night, alone with his thoughts, Faraz broke down. The words written in files felt empty. The accusations collapsed under the truth he had lived himself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy Papa was never careless,\u201d he whispered. \u201cHe was always there\u2014always providing, always spending, always present.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He looked again at the photographs\u2014then and now. Earlier, many faces, one family. Today, two faces, carrying the same story, the same truth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPapa,\u201d he said softly, his voice trembling, \u201cyou were always there\u2014yesterday, today, and always.\u201d Papa said nothing. He didn\u2019t need to.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He had always remained calm and quiet, and time had steadily revealed what Papa had always done, despite all odds. The roads had spoken. The photographs had spoken. Memory had quietly shown the truth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At last, a son had come home. Faraz needed no vindication, no clarification, no explanations. His own blood had recognised the truth, recalled the memories, and seen for himself what had always been\u2014a father who stayed quiet, a father who endured, a father who never stopped being a father.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lies may wound for a while, but time is merciless to falsehood. Truth does not argue\u2014it waits. And in the end, it stands clear, complete, and undeniable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Syed Majid Gilani is a government officer by profession and a writer-storyteller by passion. He can be reached at syedmajid6676@gmail.com.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u2712\ufe0f:. Syed Majid Gilani The journey did not start on a highway. It began quietly, deep inside Faraz\u2019s heart, where memories of home and distance had lingered for three long years. Three years is a long time in a child\u2019s life\u2014long enough for silence to settle, for doubts to grow quietly, and for lies and […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":5556,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[114],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-5557","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-opinion"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/noukeqalamnews.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5557","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/noukeqalamnews.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/noukeqalamnews.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/noukeqalamnews.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/noukeqalamnews.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5557"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/noukeqalamnews.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5557\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5558,"href":"https:\/\/noukeqalamnews.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5557\/revisions\/5558"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/noukeqalamnews.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/5556"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/noukeqalamnews.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5557"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/noukeqalamnews.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5557"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/noukeqalamnews.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5557"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}