The Evening was common. The smell of daal and freshly baked roti filled the modest, two-space house where by Anwar Masih lived together with his wife and two youngsters. Laughter echoed as his youngest daughter, Sara, recounted a story from college. It absolutely was a simple, sacred minute of peace—an https://thirstyforgodchurch.blogspot.com/
A Family Members's Cry: The Human Price of Blasphemy Laws in Pakistan
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