Honoring our martyrs

[ajpirzada]

---

---

I have problem with fake shaheeds too many of them in pakistan lol

u have said urself that TTP is wrong and u dont support them. now if a soldier dies while fighting TTP then y shouldnt we call him shaheed??

there is a hadith as well in which prophet (peace be upon him) tells us to kill those ppl who create problems for state. inother words those who challenge the writ of the state should be killed

[afzaalkhan]

u have said urself that TTP is wrong and u dont support them. now if a soldier dies while fighting TTP then y shouldnt we call him shaheed??

there is a hadith as well in which prophet (peace be upon him) tells us to kill those ppl who create problems for state. inother words those who challenge the writ of the state should be killed

tum par aisey hukmuraan mussallat hongain jin se tum nafrat karoogay aur voh tum se.
sahaba assked kia hum onkey khilaaf talwar na uthain
hazoor (SAW) said nahi jab tak voh tumharey darmiyaan namaaz qayam karwatey rahain.

2 things that everone from ghamdi to dr. israr agrees, a islamic govt must have 2 things to be considered islamic , they establish salat and zakat.

Now temme is this govt islamic:p shouldn't i pick arms to overthrow this govt? The answer is no, cuz of fasad it will create thats why though Imam abuhanifa agrees on prinicple with Imam Raza's khurooj he didn't participate in it.

[dk33]

I have problem with fake shaheeds too many of them in pakistan lol

What is a 'fake shaheed'?

AFAIK, all those mentioned on this thread died serving their nation and their people, and saving them from tyranny.

If that is not shahdat then I do not know what is.

Perhaps you think a brainwashed teenager killing innocent women and little children is a 'true shaheed'?

[ajpirzada]

tum par aisey hukmuraan mussallat hongain jin se tum nafrat karoogay aur voh tum se.
sahaba assked kia hum onkey khilaaf talwar na uthain
hazoor (SAW) said nahi jab tak voh tumharey darmiyaan namaaz qayam karwatey rahain.

2 things that everone from ghamdi to dr. israr agrees, a islamic govt must have 2 things to be considered islamic , they establish salat and zakat.

Now temme is this govt islamic:p shouldn't i pick arms to overthrow this govt? The answer is no, cuz of fasad it will create thats why though Imam abuhanifa agrees on prinicple with Imam Raza's khurooj he didn't participate in it.

i asked u a simple question and u want to take me for a walk!!
if TTP is creating anarchy then a soldier who dies while fighting them is called a shaheed??

[dk33]

SSG heroes killed eight Taliban before they were shot

Monday, May 18, 2009

By Rauf Klasra

KAHUTA: Family members of martyred Captain Najam Riaz have made a shocking disclosure about the alleged involvement of an important administrative official of Malakand in the killing of four SSG commandos at the hands of Taliban last week.

The heroic tale of brave commandos reveals how the valiant soldiers had broken the necks of eight Taliban, once they realised that they were about to be beheaded. The mother of Shaheed Captain Najam told The News while sitting in her village house, amid tears in her eyes, that she would have even sacrificed ten sons for the sake of Pakistan and she was proud of her 24-year old son, who before going to Swat had told her not to weep over her body as he knew he was going on a journey of martyrdom.

“Our Shaheed captain told that the important official of Malakand had come to meet the Taliban when they were in their possession. The official considered to be darling of the Taliban had told his friends to keep the four SSG commandos with them but return their weapons”, one of the family members of the martyred Captain told The News.

The father of Captain who retired from army as a Hawaldar demanded of the government to take action against the former official of Malakand whose collaboration with the Taliban resulted in beheading of his son along with three companions.

The family members of the martyred captain also claimed that they had come to know that actually Sufi Mohammad had directed the militants to kill the SSG commandos after his own son Kifiyatullah was killed during the operation.

Earlier, Parliamentary Affairs Minister Dr Babar Awan visited the village of Captain Najam. He went there on the direction of Prime Minister Yusuf Raza Gilani to lay flowers on his grave and offer condolences to his family.

Dr Awan himself belongs to Kahuta. The family of the martyred captain made some unusual demands to compensate the loss of their son. “Please ask your PM to set up a cadet college in Kahuta in the name of martyred Najam, set up a hospital and construct the road,” demanded his father, sisters and mother.

When Dr Awan asked whether they needed something for themselves, they all said, they did not need anything rather they had given their son for the sake of Pakistan.

A large crowd of people gathered when Dr Awan reached there in the remote village Kalhut-located at one and a half hours drive from Islamabad. Over 100 people of this small town demanded of the minister not to halt the operation against the militants and eliminate them.

Even the parents and sisters of the martyred captain gave their voice to this demand that operation should be continued and the sacrifice of their son should not be wasted. When Dr Awan returned to Islamabad late night, he immediately talked to the PM Gilani about the demand of the parents of the martyred captain and Gilani announced to approve the college in Kahuta, which might greatly make the whole family happy.

The family told the heroic tale of these four detained SSG commandos who had refused to die without putting any resistance, once they came to know that the NWFP government would not take any interest in their release.

The visit of the former official of Malakand to Taliban asking them just to return the weapons and keep the captives had made them understand what was in store. The only way left with these brave soldiers was to fight back and should not give up. As their captors got the message from their top leadership to eliminate the SSG commandos, the preparation started to tighten them with rope so they could be beheaded.

But as the captors came close to them in the room where they were detained, these commandos suddenly jumped at the eight Taliban. Within seconds, the commandos broke their necks. But two Taliban guards standing outside rushed inside and sprayed them with Kalashnikov bullets, which led to their instant martyrdom.

“We are proud of our commandos that they did not die like cowards. They fought back and killed 8 Taliban as they went down fighting like real heroes, one of the family members of the captain Najam said.

SSG heroes killed eight Taliban before they were shot

[ajpirzada]

If stories like these don’t force us to rethink the cynicism we seem to have adopted as a nation, then nothing will

He did not return.
The nurse had found him
crying at night
not because of the pain
or because he was dying

He felt he had let his country down.

At home, I could only think of
his blood shot eyes.

Who would tell his family?

I wrote another letter

and posted it in the same letter box.

— Shafaq Husain

My mother is no poet. But volunteering to work in an army hospital after the 1965 war, she was so moved by what she saw that she found her voice. She still talks about the lines of volunteers outside the hospitals, the blood donors who gave so much blood that the hospitals ran out of bottles.

And she still talks about this young soldier, lying on a metal bed with a hole in his abdomen, crying because he could not go back and fight.

If stories like these don’t force us to rethink the cynicism we seem to have adopted as a nation — the world-weary “no one deserves our compassion” attitude that continues to plague us — then nothing will.

Yes, many institutions in our country have earned the reputations they carry today. But projecting the scorn onto the young men laying down their lives for us is not just misdirected cynicism, it is treason. Ask anyone who has ever had a loved one serve in the army.

A friend of mine has been an army wife for more than twenty years. Her husband is often posted in such remote areas that he comes home for three days after every four months. She describes the scene as he prepares to leave.

“Your heart is in your throat,” she says, “but you can’t show it. He needs to know that we are all fine. When he sits in that jeep, he can’t look back. Looking back can cost him his life. So I watch him quietly as he puts on his uniform, his belt. Sometimes there is a gun attached. I pray extra hard those days.”

“The house is extra quiet that morning,” she continues. “Even the girls are quiet. I know they are thinking, ‘Is this the last time we will ever see our Baba smile again?’ The youngest one always finds a reason to cry that night.”

A soldier who served in the army for 14 years wrote to me after my last article (“Where is our yellow ribbon?”, May 5). He described the toll army life had taken on his family and him: he suffered from Chronic Mountain Sickness, high blood pressure and loss of memory for years after being stationed at high altitudes. His daughter’s studies suffered from having to move so often. And his wife lost a child because she was unable to get the little girl to the hospital in time.

These are the stories of our soldiers, men who have picked this path not because they have to but because they choose to. Some of these accounts leave images in our minds that are often difficult to get rid of, like the soldier who recovered the dead body of his friend, killed in winter, after the snow had melted. The corpse was lifeless, but the watch on the wrist was still ticking.

Another army wife describes how her husband returned after months from a hard area posting. He was quieter than usual. At night, he would twitch in his sleep. He would jump at the slightest sound. She learned later that he had discovered the body of one of his closest comrades, skinned by the Taliban and left at the barracks.

Last month, a 23-year-old soldier in Swat was shot through the head by the Taliban. He survived but is permanently paralysed. He has a young wife and an 18-month-old daughter. He says that he would give his life for his country. But when he turns on his television set at night and sees the negative, cynical coverage, he wonders whether his sacrifice was worth it.

I ask my friend whether giving her life to the army — she was 18 when she got married — has been worth it. She is quiet. “Yes,” she says softly. “I would do it all over again.”

“But there are some things that get to you,” she says. “Like the sound of the army boots, the sound of them thumping on the cement floor. It is difficult to describe it to someone who has never heard it but the boots, they have a certain heartbeat in them.”

When you are stationed in remote places, alone for so long, she explains, you become aware of every sound around you. And at the end it are these sounds that have the power to break you. She describes the loud, metallic thud of the gates as her husband leaves. “I can’t explain the ghabrahat I feel when I hear this sound,” she says.

And yet the slamming shut of the gates has been a part of her life for 22 years. It is always followed by a long period of waiting.

I think of the soldier my mother nursed more than forty years ago. Did his family ever receive the letter she posted? Who was waiting for him? These are the stories that we never hear.

Ayeda Naqvi is a journalist who lives and works in Lahore. She can be contacted at [email protected]
Daily Times - Leading News Resource of Pakistan

[BaburCM]

There is nothing like a brave and patriotic PA soldier always willing to put his nation first. The sacrifices, hardships and torments are appreciated and we will never be able to thank these heroes in our life times. Infinite salutes to our heroes. The people of Pakistan are shoulder to shoulder with their heroes.

[HAIDER]

Imagine.. this mother of nation, tearless and fearless....(discard top and bottom news)

[BaburCM]

^^ Indeed, talk is very cheap. Just imagine being in the shoes of these brave soldiers and commandos sacrificing their lives even when the outside world doesn't appreciate it. We cannot begin to comprehend about the sacrifices that these heroes are making for our forthcoming generations. The sacrifices are priceless.

[brilTek]

Ways to give honour & tribute to our martyrs by:

1 - Building a huge , marvellous and gigantic monument/memorial in SWAT with their names & pictures, once war is finished. (This MUST be DONE.)

2 - Issuing special stamps with their pics (can be done now to boost the morale of army & nation)

3 - Science colleges on their names in their respective villages/towns. Also schools which are destroyed in SWAT should be rebuilt after their names.

4 - Roads, buildings and squares to be named after them in big cities

5 – Small documentaries (including youtube videos) of their valour, courage and sacrifice so common people know about themselves. Should be aired on national and private channels after regular intervals. E.g. before hourly news etc.

6 - SWAT war should be included in school text books including martyred soldiers.

7 - Last but not the least, share these martyrs’ sacrifice with friends using emails, on social networking sites & blogs etc. Also encouraging friends to spread these as well.

[fatman17]

If stories like these don’t force us to rethink the cynicism we seem to have adopted as a nation, then nothing will

He did not return.
The nurse had found him
crying at night
not because of the pain
or because he was dying

He felt he had let his country down.

At home, I could only think of
his blood shot eyes.

Who would tell his family?

I wrote another letter

and posted it in the same letter box.

— Shafaq Husain

My mother is no poet. But volunteering to work in an army hospital after the 1965 war, she was so moved by what she saw that she found her voice. She still talks about the lines of volunteers outside the hospitals, the blood donors who gave so much blood that the hospitals ran out of bottles.

And she still talks about this young soldier, lying on a metal bed with a hole in his abdomen, crying because he could not go back and fight.

If stories like these don’t force us to rethink the cynicism we seem to have adopted as a nation — the world-weary “no one deserves our compassion” attitude that continues to plague us — then nothing will.

Yes, many institutions in our country have earned the reputations they carry today. But projecting the scorn onto the young men laying down their lives for us is not just misdirected cynicism, it is treason. Ask anyone who has ever had a loved one serve in the army.

A friend of mine has been an army wife for more than twenty years. Her husband is often posted in such remote areas that he comes home for three days after every four months. She describes the scene as he prepares to leave.

“Your heart is in your throat,” she says, “but you can’t show it. He needs to know that we are all fine. When he sits in that jeep, he can’t look back. Looking back can cost him his life. So I watch him quietly as he puts on his uniform, his belt. Sometimes there is a gun attached. I pray extra hard those days.”

“The house is extra quiet that morning,” she continues. “Even the girls are quiet. I know they are thinking, ‘Is this the last time we will ever see our Baba smile again?’ The youngest one always finds a reason to cry that night.”

A soldier who served in the army for 14 years wrote to me after my last article (“Where is our yellow ribbon?”, May 5). He described the toll army life had taken on his family and him: he suffered from Chronic Mountain Sickness, high blood pressure and loss of memory for years after being stationed at high altitudes. His daughter’s studies suffered from having to move so often. And his wife lost a child because she was unable to get the little girl to the hospital in time.

These are the stories of our soldiers, men who have picked this path not because they have to but because they choose to. Some of these accounts leave images in our minds that are often difficult to get rid of, like the soldier who recovered the dead body of his friend, killed in winter, after the snow had melted. The corpse was lifeless, but the watch on the wrist was still ticking.

Another army wife describes how her husband returned after months from a hard area posting. He was quieter than usual. At night, he would twitch in his sleep. He would jump at the slightest sound. She learned later that he had discovered the body of one of his closest comrades, skinned by the Taliban and left at the barracks.

Last month, a 23-year-old soldier in Swat was shot through the head by the Taliban. He survived but is permanently paralysed. He has a young wife and an 18-month-old daughter. He says that he would give his life for his country. But when he turns on his television set at night and sees the negative, cynical coverage, he wonders whether his sacrifice was worth it.

I ask my friend whether giving her life to the army — she was 18 when she got married — has been worth it. She is quiet. “Yes,” she says softly. “I would do it all over again.”

“But there are some things that get to you,” she says. “Like the sound of the army boots, the sound of them thumping on the cement floor. It is difficult to describe it to someone who has never heard it but the boots, they have a certain heartbeat in them.”

When you are stationed in remote places, alone for so long, she explains, you become aware of every sound around you. And at the end it are these sounds that have the power to break you. She describes the loud, metallic thud of the gates as her husband leaves. “I can’t explain the ghabrahat I feel when I hear this sound,” she says.

And yet the slamming shut of the gates has been a part of her life for 22 years. It is always followed by a long period of waiting.

I think of the soldier my mother nursed more than forty years ago. Did his family ever receive the letter she posted? Who was waiting for him? These are the stories that we never hear.

Ayeda Naqvi is a journalist who lives and works in Lahore. She can be contacted at [email protected]
Daily Times - Leading News Resource of Pakistan

this brings back a lot of old memories (but which dont fade). change the names and circumstances and the story of "the soldier" is repeated in every army family.

unfortunately the "civilian" will never feel the "feeling"!

[Elmo]

If stories like these don’t force us to rethink the cynicism we seem to have adopted as a nation, then nothing will

He did not return.
The nurse had found him
crying at night
not because of the pain
or because he was dying

He felt he had let his country down.

At home, I could only think of
his blood shot eyes.

Who would tell his family?

I wrote another letter

and posted it in the same letter box.

— Shafaq Husain

My mother is no poet. But volunteering to work in an army hospital after the 1965 war, she was so moved by what she saw that she found her voice. She still talks about the lines of volunteers outside the hospitals, the blood donors who gave so much blood that the hospitals ran out of bottles.

And she still talks about this young soldier, lying on a metal bed with a hole in his abdomen, crying because he could not go back and fight.

If stories like these don’t force us to rethink the cynicism we seem to have adopted as a nation — the world-weary “no one deserves our compassion” attitude that continues to plague us — then nothing will.

Yes, many institutions in our country have earned the reputations they carry today. But projecting the scorn onto the young men laying down their lives for us is not just misdirected cynicism, it is treason. Ask anyone who has ever had a loved one serve in the army.

A friend of mine has been an army wife for more than twenty years. Her husband is often posted in such remote areas that he comes home for three days after every four months. She describes the scene as he prepares to leave.

“Your heart is in your throat,” she says, “but you can’t show it. He needs to know that we are all fine. When he sits in that jeep, he can’t look back. Looking back can cost him his life. So I watch him quietly as he puts on his uniform, his belt. Sometimes there is a gun attached. I pray extra hard those days.”

“The house is extra quiet that morning,” she continues. “Even the girls are quiet. I know they are thinking, ‘Is this the last time we will ever see our Baba smile again?’ The youngest one always finds a reason to cry that night.”

A soldier who served in the army for 14 years wrote to me after my last article (“Where is our yellow ribbon?”, May 5). He described the toll army life had taken on his family and him: he suffered from Chronic Mountain Sickness, high blood pressure and loss of memory for years after being stationed at high altitudes. His daughter’s studies suffered from having to move so often. And his wife lost a child because she was unable to get the little girl to the hospital in time.

These are the stories of our soldiers, men who have picked this path not because they have to but because they choose to. Some of these accounts leave images in our minds that are often difficult to get rid of, like the soldier who recovered the dead body of his friend, killed in winter, after the snow had melted. The corpse was lifeless, but the watch on the wrist was still ticking.

Another army wife describes how her husband returned after months from a hard area posting. He was quieter than usual. At night, he would twitch in his sleep. He would jump at the slightest sound. She learned later that he had discovered the body of one of his closest comrades, skinned by the Taliban and left at the barracks.

Last month, a 23-year-old soldier in Swat was shot through the head by the Taliban. He survived but is permanently paralysed. He has a young wife and an 18-month-old daughter. He says that he would give his life for his country. But when he turns on his television set at night and sees the negative, cynical coverage, he wonders whether his sacrifice was worth it.

I ask my friend whether giving her life to the army — she was 18 when she got married — has been worth it. She is quiet. “Yes,” she says softly. “I would do it all over again.”

“But there are some things that get to you,” she says. “Like the sound of the army boots, the sound of them thumping on the cement floor. It is difficult to describe it to someone who has never heard it but the boots, they have a certain heartbeat in them.”

When you are stationed in remote places, alone for so long, she explains, you become aware of every sound around you. And at the end it are these sounds that have the power to break you. She describes the loud, metallic thud of the gates as her husband leaves. “I can’t explain the ghabrahat I feel when I hear this sound,” she says.

And yet the slamming shut of the gates has been a part of her life for 22 years. It is always followed by a long period of waiting.

I think of the soldier my mother nursed more than forty years ago. Did his family ever receive the letter she posted? Who was waiting for him? These are the stories that we never hear.

Ayeda Naqvi is a journalist who lives and works in Lahore. She can be contacted at [email protected]
Daily Times - Leading News Resource of Pakistan

Thank you for sharing that ajpirzada — the civilians indeed do feel the loss and pain that these families endure. And we certainly value their unrelenting spirit and immeasurable service for this nation.

At the end of the day, we hope their contributions never ever go in vain!

Long Live Pakistan!

[brilTek]

Its a sticky and about Honoring our martyrs, so i am duplicating.

There is a separate thread exists with more info & pics about Major Abid Majeed Shaheed, Op. Rah e Rast

Major Abid Majeed Malik, who embraced Shahadat during operation Rah-e-Rast near Matta (Swat) on May 18th, 2009 during his heroic bid to evacuate his injured comrades in arm. Thats at what our army stands out from the rest. I salue you sir!

After the burial, Corps Commander Lahore, Lieutenant General Ijaz Ahmed Bakhshi laid floral wreath on behalf of Chief of Army Staff, General Ashfaq Parvez Kayani.

The Shaheed was commissioned in the Punjab Regiment on October 12, 1997. He leaves behind a widow and two minor children. Major Abid Majeed Malik was laid to rest besides the permanent abode of his late father Lieutenant Colonel (retired) Abdul Majeed.

The funeral was taken place on May 20th, 2009 morning at 10am near Shaheedanwala graveyard, Lahore.

[kidwaibhai]

Shaheed ki jou maut hai, woh qaum ki zakat ha

i have to admit that i cried a little after watching this.
Pak Fauj zindabad

[Elmo]

---

---

Shaheed ki jou maut hai, woh qaum ki zakat ha

i have to admit that i cried a little after watching this.
Pak Fauj zindabad

These soldiers were so young... Their sacrifices are incomparable and unquantifiable. One really can't find words to express one's regret