The Evening was common. The smell of daal and freshly baked roti filled the little, two-place residence exactly where Anwar Masih lived along with his wife and two kids. Laughter echoed as his youngest daughter, Sara, recounted a Tale from school. It had been a straightforward, sacred second of peace—an https://youtu.be/gPn_ICbEbdU
A Relatives's Cry: The Human Price Of Blasphemy Guidelines in Pakistan
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