The Sacrifice

It was early autumn. The world was tinged with gold, and life had once again breathed into the school hallways. The first lesson was Physics. A new teacher, a man with curly hair dressed in a sharp black suit, limped into the classroom. He sat at his desk, his presence unfamiliar to the students. As he moved to the blackboard, they noticed something striking: he was not only lame but also missing his right arm. Using a prosthetic device to hold the chalk, he wrote the date. The students, however, remained indifferent, meeting his attempts at conversation with a cold, mocking silence.

Weeks passed, but the students’ cruelty did not waver. To them, the Physics lesson was merely an opportunity for mischief, and the teacher was nothing more than a target for ridicule, whispered about as “the cripple.” One day, pushed to his limit by a student named Akmal who was throwing paper planes, the teacher intervened. Akmal snapped back with arrogance:

— Give me back my plane! To us, you are nothing but “the cripple”!
The sting of the words cut deep, but before the conflict could escalate, the school principal entered. Sensing the gravity of the situation, he gently asked the teacher, Mr. Rahmatov, to step out for a moment. Turning to the silent class, the principal asked:
— Do you have any idea who this man is? Do you know why he limps?

He then revealed a harrowing truth. Mr. Rahmatov’s youth was forged in the bitter aftermath of the war. During a devastatingly cold winter, he had trekked into a frozen forest to gather firewood for his freezing mother. In that struggle against the elements, his limbs succumbed to severe frostbite. He saved his mother from the cold but paid for it with his own arm and leg.

A heavy silence fell over the room. Guilt washed over the students like a tide. When the teacher finally limped back into the classroom, the students didn’t mock him. Instead, they rushed toward him, embracing him with tears in their eyes and pleading for forgiveness.
— I forgave you long ago, — the teacher replied softly, his own eyes moistening.

From that day forward, everything changed. Physics became the most cherished subject, and Mr. Rahmatov became their most beloved mentor—a man honored not for his disability, but for the depth of his soul and the magnitude of his sacrifice.

Sarvinoz Bakhtiyorova (born in 2011) is considered one of the talented and creative young students of the Ogahiy Creative School. From an early age, she developed a love for literature and has been actively creating works in both prose and poetry. Her interest in poetry emerged early in her life, and her talent began to show during her school years. In particular, while studying in the 5th grade, her first poem titled “Navruz” was published in a collective anthology called “Yangiariq Gulshani,” marking an important step in her creative journey.

Currently, she is studying at the Ogahiy Creative School, where she continues to work on herself consistently, deeply learning the art and intricacies of literature and creative writing. Through her dedication and creative efforts, she is developing into a promising young talent who is expected to achieve even greater success in the future.

Skid Row in Buffalo

It’s snowing in Havana, and I’m stuck in Buffalo,

Without a nickel to my name,

And my pants are falling down because I can’t afford a belt

Of rum, or even a banana,

I used to smoke cigars, drive big old fifties cars, sing rumbas in topless bars, 

But now I’m on skid row, and there’s no skid row like Buffalo.

I want to go back to Havana, even though it’s snowing, nasty winds blowing,

I want to go back and sing a rumba

’Cause you can’t sing a rumba on skid row in Buffalo,

No you can’t sing a rumba on skid row in Buffalo.

It’s snowing down in Rio and I’m stuck in Buffalo,

It’s one-ten in the shade,

And my throat is parched and I can’t afford a lemonade,

Or legal aid or even a pot to piss in;

Oh, I used to date the girl from Ipanema, eat feijoada, sing sambas in topless bars,

But now I’m on skid row and there’s no skid row like Buffalo.

I want to go back to Rio, even if it’s snowing, ill winds blowing,

I want to go back and sing a samba,

‘Cause you can’t sing a samba on skid row in Buffalo,

No you can’t sing a samba on skid row in Buffalo.

I’d rather be in Chicago, where I can sing the blues,

I’d rather be in Italy where I can sing “Volare,”

I’d rather be in Paris where I can sing “La Vie en Rose,”

But I’m stuck up here in Buffalo and I can’t even blow my nose.

I want to go back to Havana, I want to sing a rumba,

I want to go back to Rio, I want to sing a samba,

But what can I sing in Buffalo?

Tell me, what can I sing on skid row in Buffalo?

What can I sing on skid row in Buffalo?

A SOUL BIGGER THAN BORDERS

(International Poet & Author Rev. Dr. Jitender Singh, India)

The world is carved by borders drawn by restless hands,
Yet no line can divide what the silent soul understands.
Languages may differ, and colors may divide,
Yet one ancient echo lives quietly inside.
Some rise with the East, some fade in the West,
Yet one breath of eternity dwells in every chest.
Hatred builds its walls, rigid, fearful, and tall,
But love, like light, still rises—unconquered by all.
We name the Divine in a thousand different ways,
Yet one unseen Light ignites all inner flames.
The body may be bound by the lines we design,
But the soul was born free—untouched by space and time.

“To Be Born a Woman in the Desert of Sacred Masculinity”

I never imagined, while watching the film “Naga” that many of its scenes would remain in my mind for so long. I usually forget details of films I watch, and only the story remains in my memory. However, I believe that the fact that all the details of “Naga” remain in my memory is due to the film’s strong connection to reality.

From the very first scene in “Naga” the viewer is driven to fear the lived reality: a man storms into a hospital in 1975 and commits a massacre, simply because a “male” doctor delivered his wife, who had a difficult delivery and nearly lost her life. It’s a terrifying moment, but it’s not a coincidence; it becomes the key to everything that follows in the film.

Although the rest of the story seems, on the surface, to be unrelated, the film focuses not on the events but on the mindset that produces them. From here, the threads of events begin to unravel. Between Past and Present: Identity Crisis and Inherited Norms

What  “Naga” masterfully creates goes far beyond a simple narrative through characters moving from point A to point B. Through the journey of its heroine, Sarah, the film reveals a society caught between eras, stuck in a state of cultural stagnation, where modernity struggles to break free from its entrenched traditional rules. The violent opening scene is not an isolated incident; it mirrors a complete generational and psychological crisis.

Although the camel appears later in the story, it is the film’s central symbol. The angry camel, who lost her young child to the recklessness of Sarah’s lover, Saad, embodies many things: the silent mother, the wounded community, and the unresolved collective trauma that strikes the wrong targets. Sarah, who runs away from her father’s house to attend a desert party, finds herself in a surreal confrontation with the ghosts of patriarchy. The camel is not her enemy, but her reflection. Both are victims of a reckless and arrogant masculinity, yet both are condemned as dangerous, brutal, and in need of self-control.

She confronts her fear of men, her shame about her femininity, and the fragility of emotional trust. In that brief period, she realizes the hollowness of her lover’s promises, the complexities of her seemingly gentle father, and, most importantly, the deep rage of a mother figure betrayed by society. The camel becomes a merciless, incurable, and furious mother.

In the final scene, we see Sarah running into the desert, pursued by the enraged camel. But the real pursuit is symbolic—she is escaping from memory, from inherited guilt, from societal control. But this is not an escape; it is a transition, as this pursuit symbolizes her liberation from the “unconscious” in which she was trapped. She may not defeat the camel, but she survives. This survival, this breathless emergence into the present, is victory. It’s not a neat ending, but a cry of “I’m still here.”

The true audacity of “Purity”  lies not in the cigarette or the lover’s encounter, the removal of the veil, or attending a mixed-gender party in a remote location, the risky dialogue, and the female escape on motorcycles, but in its exposure of internal divisions. The film dares to expose the psychological cost of a society that no longer functions.

It is a film daring in its cinematic language: the inverted opening shot, the raw chase scenes, the visual poetry of light and space, and the precise rendering of desert lighting, whose expressions convey everything, even silence.

The music blends horror and humor, defies linear construction, and even the few extended scenes (like the camel chase or the police chase) feel part of a wider, more emotionally chaotic world. In short, “Naga” is not just the story of a rebellious girl—it’s about a society suffocating under its weight, about mothers crushed and resurrected as monsters, about love betrayed, and about women punished not for their sins, but for their pursuit of life. The film is about pent-up anger, reluctant awakenings, and the urgent question of identity in a world that punishes femininity for its mere existence.

………..

Naga is a Saudi film, debuting on Netflix on December 7, 2023. The film is written and directed by Meshal Al-Jaser and stars Adwaa Badr and Yazeed Al-Majioul.

She is a poet, teacher, editor, writer, and playwright born in Najaf, Iraq, in 1967, who now lives in the United States. Faleeha was the first woman to write poetry for children in Iraq. She received her master’s degree in Arabic literature and has now published 27 books. Her poems have been translated into English, Turkmen, Bosnian, Indian, French, Italian, German, Kurdish, Spain, Korean, Greek, Serbia, Albanian, Pakistani, Romanian, Malayalam, Chinese, ODIA, Nepali and Macedonian. She is a Pulitzer Prize Nominee for 2018 and a Pushcart Prize Nominee for 2019.

Faleeha is a member of the International Writers and Artists Association, a winner of the Women of Excellence Inspiration award from SJ Magazine 2020, the winner of the Grand Jury Award (the Sahitto International Award for Literature 2021), a member of the Women of Excellence selection committees for 2023, a winner of a Women in the Arts award for 2023, a member of Who’s Who in America 2023, on the judging panel for the 2023 Sahitto Award, the winner of the HerStory Award from the Women’s Federation for World Peace New Jersey 2024, a Cultural Ambassador between Iraq and the USA since 2018, a Cultural Ambassador and worldwide literary advisor for PEN CRAFT Bangladesh.

She is also honored to be appointed as a 2024 Peace Ambassador by the Universal Peace Federation and to be a member of The Founding Mothers Global Women’s Congress 2024. You may email Faleeha Hassan at d.fh88@yahoo.com

BETWEEN TRUTH AND LIFE 

Like a joke 

Dreamy 

It was a dream 

It was like a tale 

It was looking beautiful while lie 

It was giving sorrow while real 

Actually People was living 

Between truth and lie.

Türkan Ergör, Sociologist, Philosopher, Writer, Poet, Art Photography Model. Türkan Ergör was born 19 March 1975 in the city of Çanakkale, Türkiye. She was selected International “Best Poet 2020”. She was selected International “Best Poet, Author/Writer 2021”. She was selected International “Best Poet, Writer/Author 2022”. She was awarded the FIRST PRIZE FOR THE OUTSTANDING AUTHOR IN 2022. She was awarded the 2023 “Zheng Nian Cup” “National Literary First Prize” by Beijing Awareness Literature Museum. She was awarded the “Certificate of Honor and Appreciation” and “Crimean Badge” by İSMAİL GASPRİNSKİY SCIENCE AND ART ACADEMY. She was awarded the “14k Gold Pen Award” by ESCRITORES SIN FRONTERAS ORGANIZACIÓN INTERNACIONAL.

Myself

Me is my strength, 

I have no weakness. 

I’m a number one fan of myself, 

I’m the first advocate for myself. 

I’m the best well wisher for myself. 

I’m one crore soulder for me. 

I have determination for me.

Amb. Dr. Priyanka Neogi is from Coochbehar. She is an administrative controller of United Nations’ PAF, a librarian, a CEO of Lio Messi International Property & Land Consultancy, international literacy worker, sports & peace promoter, dancer, singer, reciter, live telecaster, writer, editor, researcher, literary journalist, host, beauty queen, international co-ordinator of the Vijay Mission of Community Welfare Foundation of India.

That Letter I Don’t Write 

A bridge of words that never crosses the river, 

White sheets stored in drawers of silence, 

Ink frozen in the heart of the pen, 

A message that sails between 

what is said and what is felt. 

Memories folded like old paper, 

Voices that whisper in each empty line, 

Distance, an ocean without ships, 

Hands that imagine what the envelope will look like. 

Phrases that are born and die in the throat, 

Time that is written on invisible margins, 

Feelings, stones that sink into the soul, 

A letter, a tree that grows where there is no soil. 

Eyes that weep letters that never form, 

An embrace that travels in each written sigh, 

Truth that waits on the threshold of the page, 

Words that sleep in the pocket of memory. 

GRACIELA NOEMI VILLAVERDE is a writer and poet from Concepción del Uruguay (Entre Rios) Argentina, based in Buenos Aires She graduated in letters and is the author of seven books of poetry, awarded several times worldwide. She works as the World Manager of Educational and Social Projects of the Hispanic World Union of Writers and is the UHE World Honorary President of the same institution’s Activa de la Sade, Argentine Society of Writers. She is the Commissioner of Honor in the executive cabinet in the Educational and Social Relations Division of the UNACCC South America – Argentina Chapter.