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A Rendezvous With Saif-ul-Malook
The morning I left home to wander in snow and meet the great Saif-ul-Malook Lake in its frozen glory, the mountains of Hindu Kush had seen the last snow shower of the season; mild rays from the sun had just kissed the eaves of the roof of my house; a fresh red rose in the flower pot had just blossomed; my wristwatch told me it was eight o'clock. Somewhere far away, a song seemed to be playing: "Awara hoon yaa gardish mein hoon. Aasmaan ka tara hoon"
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