The Evening was standard. The odor of daal and freshly baked roti crammed the modest, two-space household wherever Anwar Masih lived along with his wife and two small children. Laughter echoed as his youngest daughter, Sara, recounted a story from school. It had been a straightforward, sacred minute of peace—a https://youtu.be/gPn_ICbEbdU
A Loved Ones's Cry: The Human Price of Blasphemy Rules in Pakistan
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