Mobile was ringing continuously for minutes. After stirring the spoon into the saucepan, she slowed down the fire of stove and then came into her room almost running. The number was Maryam’s. She attended the call with a little surprise.
“I am ringing for a long time, where were you buried?” She smiled after hearing the tone of Maryam full of irritation.
“Was in Kitchen. What calamity has been come on you? You could call at night.”
“Stop your rubbish and tell me that why you are not coming to office for a week?”
“Deadlines of few assignments are so close. These days I just sit in library after the class. Am not doing job and just internship and now my project is also going to be finish, that’s why thought to take leave for few days, but why are you asking?” She was back in Kitchen while talking to her.
“Thought to take update from the lady and to see that she is just the Journalist by name or she is having some knowledge of the recent events.”
“What do you mean?” Qandeel didn’t understand her words.
“Hmmmmm…….means you don’t know anything in real.”
“What event you are talking about? Talk in clear words, Maryam. Stop asking riddles.”
“What to tell…..when you don’t know anything. I can’t tell you everything on the phone, it’s impossible.”
“Then…..” Qandeel squeezed her lips.
“Do one thing. Bring any evening newspaper and see the details in it, then I will talk to you.”
“Evening newspaper….” She surprised.
“Yes, you have heard it correctly. I am talking about the evening newspaper.”
“But if the news is so important then it would have been published in any morning newspaper and telecasted in the news bulletin of your channel.”
“And this is the most surprising and notable thing. Neither a popular nor a less popular morning newspaper has covered it. People from your newspaper and from my channel are even avoiding covering this news due to some great political pressure.”
“And those loud and high slogans of freedom of journalism……… where did they vanish?”
“Personal benefits sometimes become more important than professional duties here, Qandeel. You are new in the field and I am experiencing this for last one and a half year. Well, but bring the evening newspaper and read the whole details about the farmer who is sitting on a hunger-strike in front of the press club for last two days. If possible then come to office tomorrow, we will discuss it there in detail, Khuda Hafiz.”
She was confused even after she had put the phone; kept thinking about things Maryam had told her. Food was cooked. She ceased the stove and came outside the kitchen.
Opening the door, she looked outside into the street that perhaps any kid would be there and she could send him to bring the newspaper from the newspaper shop in the neighboring street, but the street was empty. It was now the time of dusk and all kids had gone to their homes. For a while she stood at the door thinking, and then came into the street. After keeping her stole on her head, she closed the door and just fastened its bolt then started walking in a fast pace. At the corner of the neighboring street, Chacha Smaail had a small newspaper shop. She picked two or three different newspapers of that evening and handed over the money to Chacha Smaail which she was holding in her hand; didn’t feel the need to calculate the amount and standing there she started reading the newspaper. At the peak of suspense, she was used to show this carelessness; felt this somewhat later when people around her started to look her with odd looks. This was not a place where she could read the newspaper like this.
She collected all newspapers and just then Chacha Smaail gave her rest of the money. She came back with the same fast pace. Reaching into the street she looked, Baaba was ahead of her.
He had stopped reaching at the door and before he could turn, Qandeel reached near him.
“I just went to the shop of Chacha Smaail to take newspaper.” She said while unfastening the bolt.
Both of them came inside one by one.
Qandeel read all newspapers in detail at home. The cruelty that was happened with Wali Daad and in reply the steps he had taken to get his land back; she not only tried to know each and every detail of the case but even discussed it with Yousuf Mairaj. He also heard the story of Wali Daad with a great interest and kept telling her about his views.
“I will talk to Asghar Sahib about it tomorrow. Being a very experienced and brave journalist, how can he make this act of senselessness? If even we can not feel this cruel act happening with the weakened people then we don’t have rite to claim about our courage and fearlessness.” While collecting the newspapers before going into her room, she at last said.
Yousuf Mairaj just shook his head positively.
She had sent an SMS to Maryam that she will go to office with her next morning.
The next morning Maryam came. Yousuf Mairaj already had gone to the college, so Qandeel locked the door and they went for the office.
Their offices were on the press club road. The Press club was situated on their way, at the distance of two buildings from it there was the newspaper building where Qandeel had her internship these days and in the same lane after two three streets there was the office where Maryam was doing job. On that road all around there were buildings of different newspapers and T.V. channels.
Outside the Press club, there was not much crowd at the time. Opposite to the road there was an unoccupied plot where family of Wali Daad had temporary residence.
Qandeel looked, he was a bit old man; thin and slim, dark faced, the man was sleeping at the moment. Exactly next to him, there was a middle age woman who was giving him a little air with the help of a hand-fan. Two kids were also there who were having their temporary beds at a distance. Near the feet of Wali Daad, there was a boy sitting probably of an age of sixteen, was having his breakfast by dipping the pieces of stale chapatti into tea.
“Whole day he sits at the pavement opposite to the Press club with his family and sleeps here at night. If somebody tries to help him financially then refuses clearly and says that I am not a beggar, always earn with my own hand and even now will earn myself but only when my land will be given back to me, otherwise will die here.” Maryam was giving her the details.
“And administration of press club…..” Qandeel gazed her with a questioning sight.
“They are trying to convince him to keep protesting but end this hunger-strike, even then Wali Daad is not agreed to hear any advice like that.”
“And where are the human rights organizations…… every second day they keep talking about the new issues then why is the ground empty in favor of Wali Daad?”
“There are two reasons. First is that perhaps the case of Wali Daad is weak. Nadir Siddiqui has forged in a fully right way otherwise everyone has enough brain to understand that the date of loan returning in the agreement can never be kept before the date of cutting of crop. And the second reason is the same political pressure.”
“Nadir Siddiqui is not strong enough politically then how has he created so much pressure at all these places?”
Both of them were standing at the pavement opposite to the press club.
“He himself could be or not strong enough but his father had very good relations with the most influential families of the country and the same relations are working here. Sahir Choudhary, Hashim Laghari, Sikander Shaikh all are using their resources to help Nadir Siddiqui.” Qandeel had her sight on the temporary residents of the plot and ears were with Maryam.
“And the most important reason is that Laashari family is directly poking into the issue and you are well aware with the political power of Aadil Laashari. Whether the Laashari family is in government or out of government, none of the political party without having its support can make a single decision. Mamoon of Nadir, Qasim Ahmed was the class fellow of Qaiser Laashari in the college. Nadir would probably get the ticket of Aadil Laashari’s party in the next elections from Nawab Shah. So, Aadil Laashari will not stop helping Nadir Siddiqui and his family, while many of his own benefits are connected to Nadir and Habib Siddiqui.” Qandeel was trying to understand the situation slowly and gradually.
“Which benefits…… can you explain or…… no perhaps I can guess. You are indicating about Soomro family right? Aadil Laashari was defeated completely during last election in Nawab Shah and that’s why they have started to associate with different feudal families of Nawab Shah so they can give a full blow to Soomro family in next elections.”
“You are moving too fast, Qandeel. I must say you are intelligent. Well but now we have to use our brains to think that how we can bring this injustice happened with Wali Daad in front, and so human rights organizations could also feel their responsibility and people from every walk of life could gather at one platform for helping Wali Daad.”
“I have also thought about few things for this, which I will try today. You should also talk to people in your office, to get a solution and yes if your whole staff altogether demands from your C.O to cover this incident then finally he will have to withdraw.” Maryam started thinking about it.
“Your words seem to affect, Qandeel. I will also try it today, but right now the problem is something else, Qandeel.”
“What?” She gazed Maryam.
“Hunger-strike can be life threatening for Wali Daad. He is very weak physically; you would have an idea by looking him. Age is also more than fifty but due to overload of work he looks too old. This movement will take several days to be active and the fragile body of Wali Daad would not be able to resist this hunger-strike for so many days, Qandeel.” She had a full belief on Maryam.
“Let’s try so he could end this hunger-strike.”
“He is very stubborn, self-made, inflexible and tough man, Qandeel. When speaks then makes everyone to stop, whereas he himself has never been to school. But even then we will try.”
They were talking each other by looking there.
The son of Wali Daad was looking them. Maryam called him; he came to them. Perhaps he would have met with Maryam earlier because Qandeel had looked an expression of familiarity for Maryam in his eyes. Maryam had called his name as Ali Daad. She could not be at back and specially people younger than herself; she was used to take few minutes to be frank with them. In few minutes, she was asking certain questions from Ali Daad which were in her mind since night. He was a thin and slim guy with dark complexion like his father but his forehead was broad and brown shiny eyes were proving him intelligent. He got his Matriculation and after that had started working on lands along with his father. And now here in this situation, like the right hand of his father he was showing courage. This was surprising and joyful for Qandeel.
Both of them moved for their offices then.
Fortunately, Qandeel met Ghani at the main gate of the building. He was the most active journalist of the newspaper. During last few years, much reporting he had done for this newspaper, none of the other reporters had. Qandeel was one of the admirers of him; was so brave and fearless; never was worried for anything; age was twenty eight; was a man with healthy physique.
They came at third floor talking. Wali Daad was just the topic of their conversation when they were moving in the corridor. Ghani provided her the details of the internal environment in the case of Wali Daad. Chief Editor Asghar Sahib was a good friend of Qaiser Laashari. Despite of his sincerity with his profession, he was supposed to be faithful in friendship. He had announced clearly that none of the news about Wali Daad can be sent in their press, that’s why for the first time Ghani also felt his hands tied. After looking at intentions of Qandeel, Ghani also prohibited her to talk to Asghar Sahib in any case. For him, this was just waste of time.
Qandeel was surprised; Laashari family had very long hands.
Even then she felt some good after talking to Ghani; at least there were people who wanted to help Wali Daad.
They entered the hall and came to the cabin of Ghani walking. Ahead of the cabin there was the table of Khalida; Qandeel used to sit there.
Ghani took out the keys from his pocket then started unlocking the door.
“Listen Qandeel, you have all qualities of a professional journalist and professional journalist does not lose courage when a way is blocked. Many more ways come in front if only he knows how to use his abilities and his art appropriately. I am disappointed from Asghar Sahib but trying to report the incident for any other newspaper as a free lancer. You should also think that how as a journalist you can help Wali Daad. I am sure when you will think, you will find another way.” She smiled.
Ghani with a smile, full of hopes, entered his cabin.
She came at her table and started working but her thoughts were revolving around one point.
In office everywhere Wali Daad was the hot topic. Oral analysis, comments, everybody was showing his views but yes they all knew that they can not write anything and this was the only irritating thing for Qandeel. She in her life had not given herself in the hands of helplessness nor could she do now. She in her soft body had kept courage like warriors. The fire to do anything for the truth, whenever had started to burn her internally, her nerves initiated to scorch so badly and only then she could feel that fire of Love has so much power in it. The power of this fire which could give her a courage with which she could stand against the whole world alone. Yes, this was only the fire of the Love which had always made her like a reflection of a restless soul among the people.
This was the Love which she got as a heritage from Saima Yousuf and Yousuf Mairaj. The Love of God, Love of His Prophet (S.A.W), Love of her Nation and Love of Pakistan; the only country which was formed in the name of Kalimah Tayyaba; the Kalimah having secret of the biggest reality of the Universe hidden in its few words; it was the secret of Love.
Then how could it possible that she loved Allah, loved His Prophet (S.A.W), but have not loved Pakistan, have not loved her Nation; it was surely not possible.
Love was totally complete in its each aspect for her; so, she loved Pakistan, she loved every grain of sand of it; she loved every single person living on this earth and perhaps it was true that by penetrating the Love inside her in so many forms, it was not possible for her to hate a single man on the earth. She loved every human being of this world.
And this was the fire of that Love which never made her hope to let die, never made her courage to let lose; which had made her every moment so fearless and brave and made her to do those things which could not be expected from a man even in normal conditions.
Her nerves started aching while thinking.
The hall was almost empty during the lunch time. She had downed her head on the table when Maryam came.
Both of them came out of the hall walking and now moving downstairs.
Qandeel was silent unusually. Maryam knew, when she kept thinking then had become silent like this perhaps therefore she herself kept talking; kept telling her that even in her office many people want to cover this incident but C.O has strictly prohibited this. She kept hearing silently. When Maryam turned towards cafeteria after they reached ground floor, she was stopped.
“What happened?” Maryam surprised.
“You go, Maryam. I am tired, will go home now.” Her tone was completely flat.
“Alright, go home. Perhaps you need a little rest right now.” Maryam said while observing her expressions.
She came out of the building and started walking on the pavement. She was moving towards press club. She didn’t know why she was going there but she didn’t want to think anything that moment.
Exactly in front opposite of the road of the press club on the pavement, he was sitting on a piece of cloth with his family. The sun was right above his head and even the shade of the Banyan tree besides him could not work for this hot sunlight.
She herself was feeling the burning of the sunlight but she knew it was not possible for her to have idea about the pain of Wali Daad; he was on hunger-strike. He had not eaten for two days and surely he was a man physically very weak. His dark complexion had become darker in that sunlight. Qandeel came near to him walking and now she could see his features very clearly.
His eyes were also brown like Ali Daad but the shinning was nowhere. There were dark circles around his eyes and the cheek-bone was very prominently could be seen. The lip of the upper side was darker and thick as compare to the lower lip. Hairs were all white; he had no attraction with him at all.
There were also some people of media but all of them were not attentive towards Wali Daad; not a chance better than this could be provided to Qandeel. She came near the pavement and stopped.
Wali Daad moved his head up and looked her.
“Can I talk to you for few minutes, Wali Daad?” She asked smiling.
Wali Daad gazed her for a moment then shaking his head he again bent his head down.
She sat on the same piece of cloth at a distance to Wali Daad. Ali Daad was not there; perhaps had gone somewhere.
The piece of cloth and the pavement beneath it was extremely hot. Qandeel was feeling difficulty to sit on so hot and scorching land despite of fact that Wali Daad was sitting on the same land somewhat near to her. His rest of the family was now sitting at a distance to the pavement in the shade, but perhaps he was now used to this burning; had sat motionless at his place.
For few minutes Qandeel could not understand what to say, and then she called his name. Wali Daad looked her turning his head.
“Can’t you end your hunger-strike?” He got a poisonous smile on his face.
“Daughter, don’t you have anything except this to say to me. Whoever comes just says the same thing; doesn’t say anything else.” His tone had a grace. Qandeel felt a strange attraction in it.
“Then tell me, what should we speak about?” She was now looking him with a great interest.
Wali Daad moved his head up and looked the sky. “The sunlight is so shiny and the day is so bright today. The Sun seems to be very kind to land.” She was just surprised.
He was not speaking Urdu very clearly, words of Sindhi were included. Qandeel could understand Sindhi but could not speak it.
“Yes, but this sunlight is very hot also, one which burns, one which scorches.” She tried to start argue willingly; wanted to hear the words of an illiterate but educated person.
“This is the proof of the Love of the Beautiful God, daughter. If this burning will be absent in the sunlight then how the blood flows in veins will get the Life? This is the evil thing in man, never pays thanks to Allah on His blessings but complains about very little pain that he gets from Him.” She was now hearing the sayings of the old man without blinking her eyes. “But Wali Daad is not like that, daughter. Wali Daad never complains to his God because Wali Daad knows that the Beautiful God loves man so much. Even if he gives pain then it is also for a great peace; never let injustice to happen. People say that Wali Daad has lost his land and nobody helps Wali Daad but Wali Daad doesn’t say it, he says that the Beautiful God will surely do justice. God will let his land free from the cruel ones. Wali Daad has not sat here on a man’s trust, Wali Daad is just sitting here on trust of God and he knows God just has light, the great light.” The illiterate villager was certainly able enough that if had given lecture in a University then could beat the great professors.
For a long time she kept sitting on that hot pavement talking to him; had tried to bring this chat towards hunger-strike but Wali Daad was continuously changing the topic; was not letting her to come towards the real issue.
During this Ali Daad came and gave a glass of water to Wali Daad. Wali Daad took few sips then returned the glass to him. Ali Daad was smiled to see Qandeel there; perhaps enjoying to see hitting her head to his stubborn and inflexible father.
Qandeel had a satisfaction; at least he was taking water. Leaving the place she had decided to try one more time at least. Speaking a little to Ali Daad she went to home.
This was a very unique experience of her life. Meeting a man who had no relationship with her, even then during few minutes meeting Qandeel had felt like she had a very strong relationship with Wali Daad.
She kept thinking about him even in home; courage to do something for him was intensified.
Yousuf Mairaj had gone for a lecture that day; he came very late at night and was also tired so Qandeel had not talked to him about this matter.
When she came in her room at night, she knew that to struggle for sleep is worthless. In a mental state like this she would never be able to sleep, so closing the door she came at writing table.
She could be able to normalize this strange state of her heart and mind only this way; could be able to transform her restlessness into peace only this way.
She opened the letter-pad and picked the pen. Words were ready perhaps, flew in a text form.
“I am standing outside the press club and thinking that how tough would be the old villager sitting opposite of the road in scorching sunlight who is combating war for his self alone, without eating anything. Neither he complains to anyone for the cruel act done with him nor he shouts or cries to attract people.
Now I am moving ahead and think to say something to him…… but what? This is difficult to decide. Now I am sitting besides him; he is speaking and I am just listening.”
She kept writing, pen was not ready to stop.
“His face has uncountable wrinkles each of which tells a unique story of courage and bravery. The glimpse of the twinkling lamp in his dull eyes is the sign that he will never let his hope to die. The satisfaction that shines on his dark complexioned face indicates that he will not declare any pain any difficulty as his defeat. He will fight till the last breath because perhaps the ordinary illiterate villager in the case of faith and trust has beaten all of us. On a difficult pathway we fall by walking two steps, shiver due to tiredness, but he is standing firmly on a way full of thorns and decided to move ahead. The old Wali Daad who has complete belief on God, is waiting for His justice.”
Further more she described the whole incident in the same form of words and then while she was ending the manuscript, had become emotional.
“Whether all writers refuse to mark your story; whether all T.V. channels close their eyes from your side. Whether the protectors of the law hear or not your silent calls Wali Daad, just remember that this land loves you so much. Whether you are successful or not, this Nation will never leave your side. You are not alone, I am with you, and every person of the Nation is with you.”
She put the pen aside and read the manuscript. Then on reading second time she made certain changes. When she read third time, felt that now there is no space of correction in it.
After putting the internal struggle on paper, she was now feeling a strange peace.
The manuscript had now become a complete column. A thought came suddenly in her mind which made her very excited for a while.
The next day she was anxiously waiting for Ghani. He was out for reporting a case.
She had drowned herself in her project files and was working very keenly but in few intervals was having checks towards Ghani’s cabin.
She was getting messages from Rohail and Seema since morning. They wanted to talk to her for get together, but as she was not taking interest in anything that moment therefore replied them to see all matters themselves and just to inform her about everything. She also got a call from Rohail but could not talk to him in details; mentally she had forgotten everything related to University. In any case, she had told Rohail that she is busy due to her internship these days.
Ghani had come and was now in his cabin. She also came towards his cabin after a while. Ghani smiled to see her.
“You have come to take updates from me?” She shook her head positively.
“Some of my friends are reporting for ‘News and News’ and ‘Subah-e-Nau’. Siddique Sahib is the founder and the chief editor of both the newspapers. I have talked to him about this case and he is agreed. InshAllah tomorrow morning both of these newspapers will have details of this whole incident in their headlines. I was having some work for that since morning.” Qandeel had a strange satisfaction to hear it. These both newspapers were also well established daily papers. So at last the call of Wali Daad was going to be heard far and wide.
Qandeel moved his right hand; there was the manuscript of the column in her hand. Ghani looked her surprisingly.
“What’s it?” He had taken manuscript from her hand.
“An article; I have written last night. I can’t do anything else for Wali Daad till now.” Ghani was now moving her eyes on manuscript.
“Sit down.” He marked towards the chair and kept reading the article.
She sat silently.
Ghani looked her after he finished the reading.
“You have once again surprised me, Qandeel. You have an art to impress others not only with your deep words and thoughts but with your pen also. If a person doesn’t know anything about Wali Daad and if he reads this article even then he will feel for Wali Daad what me and you are feeling for him right now.” She kept looking him seriously who was really very happy.
“Pretty girl, why are you silent? Smile, whatever you have done for Wali Daad, nobody could do. What else more than this you want to do for him?” She smiled but was thinking that what specialty is in the article which she could not see and Ghani saw it.
“I will make it to publish in the editorial of any newspaper tomorrow morning in any condition, whether for this I have to ruin rest of my day. Just don’t worry now and go to your work. I am going to start now.” She could not answer Ghani.
First hour…….second hour and now…………third hour had been passed. She had again started her work after lunch but Ghani was not back. She was now a little worried.
“Don’t know where Ghani would be ruining his time, to publish my column.” She was grasped with strange thoughts but exactly that moment the door of the hall opened and Ghani came inside along with Asghar Sahib talking to him. They were arguing in real, sometimes the voice of Asghar Sahib had raised and sometimes the excited tone of Ghani was audible to everyone.
All of the people in hall were now attentive towards them.
Qandeel stood unwillingly. Manuscript of her column was in the hand of Ghani.
Her heart started beating so fast.
“Ghani, you are bringing you and me in difficulties. This is not as simple as you are thinking it is.” They were exactly in the middle of the hall and everyone was hearing them.
“Sir, I don’t know about easy or difficult and even I don’t want to know. I just know one thing that you can stop me to report for your newspaper, not for other newspapers. I am bound not to report the news of Wali Daad for your newspaper not for other newspapers.”
“Then you will yourself be responsible for the outcome, Ghani and remember if it came on me then I will not take a moment to disown you on behalf of my newspaper.”
“I am agreed sir with my heart and soul. Even if you do this then neither you will hear any complain nor will find any drop in your respect from my side.”
“You are not understanding the issue, Ghani.” He was irritated, “Being linked to my newspaper, if you will do reporting for any other newspaper then do you know what evil effect it will have on the reputation of my newspaper. My good-will that is made with the efforts of many years will be ruined in dust and I can’t bear it you know that.” A poisonous smile appeared on Ghani’s face. He was a journalist and knew that how to keep hand on the aching nerve of his boss.
“This decision is now yours, sir that you value your good-will, your respect and grace or yours so called friendships and benefits attached with them. If you want then you are free to terminate me before tomorrow morning to save your good-will, I will be having no objection but there is another way to save your good-will, sir….” He stopped just for a moment.
“And which is that you should prefer your duty on your relationships, your friendships. Be honest with your profession, in this way not only your good-will will be enhanced but you will also find yourself high in the court of your heart, sir. Decision is now in your hands.” For a while there was graveyard like silence in the hall. Asghar sahib was thinking silently then suddenly he remembered something. He took the manuscript from Ghani’s hand and moved towards Qandeel.
“You wrote this article, Qandeel?” The centre of his questioning eyes and the attention of rest of the people in hall was she now. She shook her head positively.
“I am impressed with your writing style, but perhaps you don’t know that this matter is dangerous and you don’t have idea how risky it is.”
She smiled. A fire was enhancing her courage internally.
“Whether I have or not the idea of the critical situation of this case but probably you would have it sir, and therefore I am feeling sad to say that you are not making a good example for inexperienced and new journalists like me. Despite of enhancing our guts you are diminishing it. By telling us about the danger and the risk of the result you are trying to decrease our courage.” The expression of Asghar Sahib was so odd; he could never expect an answer like this from a student of final year who was having internship in his newspaper.
Qandeel knew that Ghani had burnt the iron; she just had to strike it.
“I thought that you will support me morally; will publish my column into the editorial of your newspaper; will become my shield in any case. For a journalist who writes the truth, his editor is like a shield for him who supports him in any case but I was wrong sir, and I am embarrassed for my misunderstanding, sir. I will not say to you to publish my column in the editorial of your newspaper but then you don’t have any rite to try to prevent me from my decision by telling me about the risk and danger. I don’t care about the result because God, who has given strength to my pen, will become shield for me and my pen, sir. I am inexperienced sir but well aware with the responsibilities of my duty.”
She stopped. Once again a grave silence was everywhere in the hall.
She could not have any idea from the expressions of Asghar Sahib that what he was thinking. She was now observing other people.
Ghani who was standing at back was smiling and giving an appreciation with his eyes. Nasir Sahib, Salim Sahib, Haroon, Qutub Sahib, Kainaat, Ayub and Khalida; she looked each face one by one. Everyone had hopes in their eyes.
Asghar Sahib turned back without saying anything and moved towards the door. Everyone with silence and some disappointment was looking him. Reaching at the door he returned and viewed the hall then he looked Ghani.
“You will be reporting, Ghani but not for any other newspaper, for my newspaper. Prepare the cover story and send it to me immediately and yes I am sending this column for composing so it could be included in the editorial tomorrow morning.” Waving the manuscript he said and then went outside the hall.
A wave of joy was surged in the hall. Faces were shining. She hugged Khalida involuntarily; everyone was congratulating her and Ghani.
Ghani also said much about this success. Everything was so suddenly happened and happened in a right manner, she could not believe.
A strange happiness grasped her. Her heart wished to run outside the building and to dance by raising both hands in the air. She wished to dance, to show her Love for Almighty God of the Universe, this unique method to show her love for Him was also invented by her.