Muhammad Haris khan
Bio
Why its so hard to write about myself?
simply My Name is Haris Khan I am studing Master in creative writer, Having 4 years of experience in writing about a wide range of things, fiction,non-fiction and specially about the psychy of humans
Stories (6)
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“180 Rupees That Killed a Man”. AI-Generated.
Nobody knew exactly when Master Ilyas came to this neighborhood and when he rented this room, but everyone knew that Master Ilyas was a migrant and belonged to an area in Ambala because he spoke the dialect that is spoken in Ambala. Master Ilyas lived in a rented room and the neighborhood boys would come to him to learn counting, recite multiplication tables, and write on slates. He had a pair of partridges and a purebred rooster. The partridges remained in cages, but the purebred rooster would stand a little distance from the door of his room. Master Ilyas had put a brass anklet on one leg of the rooster and tied a strong string to it, and tied the other end of the string to a nail hammered into the threshold of his room. All the people of the neighborhood respected Master Ilyas and would pass by his door saying 'Assalam-o-Alaikum'. Master Ji also did some other work, but nobody knew what it was. Perhaps he worked as a clerk in the vegetable market, or set up a stall in a distant neighborhood, or worked as a daily wage laborer painting and varnishing in a factory. Nobody knew about him very well, but everyone knew that Master Ilyas's livelihood was just barely sufficient. Actually, Master Sahib was a simple man and did not know how to keep up with the times. For some reason, his face was such that seeing it did not generate a feeling of love or sympathy in people's hearts, and for some reason, his conversation style was such that nobody would believe him. He did not lie. He did not cheat. He did not exaggerate. He did not boast. He did not scare anyone. Because of this People did not believe him. His conversation contained many grammatical and rhetorical errors, and the listener would get frustrated and leave his company. He was so simple and innocent that he didn't seem human. He seemed like a burden on the whole neighborhood and society, and since no one liked to associate with such people, he had no friends. That is why the neighbors respected him and would say "peace be upon you" as they passed his door. One winter evening, the landlord scolded Master Ilyas in harsh words and threatened that if he did not pay the past six months' rent of 180 rupees within three days, he would throw his belongings out. Master Ji was struck dumb with fear because he did not have one hundred and eighty rupees in a lump sum. He only had forty rupees, which he had made fifty by stringing a ten-rupee note with them. Earlier, the landlord used to take forty or fifty rupees and give a future date, but this time he became stubborn and threw the fifty rupees strung on a thread in front of the purebred rooster and said, "Go away! I will not take it. Give me the full one hundred and eighty." When he said this and left, Master Ilyas picked up the fifty rupees from the floor and put them in his waistcoat pocket. Then he went into his room, sat sadly on the cot, and due to severe grief, his voice was choked, and this was the first time someone's voice was choked without crying! Ghagha (choked voice) also means loss of voice in the throat. As promised, the landlord threw his belongings out. He placed Master Sahib's cot behind the two transformer poles and arranged the rest of his belongings around it. He put a new Chinese padlock on the room and rode his scooter home. His house was quite far from this neighborhood, and he used to come monthly to collect the rent for his rooms.
By Muhammad Haris khan about 20 hours ago in Fiction
Manzoor: The Boy Who Healed Hearts.. AI-Generated.
When he was admitted to the hospital, his condition was very bad. On the first night he was kept only on oxygen. The nurse who was on duty thought that this new patient would die before morning. His pulse rate was uncertain. His body was soaked in sweat. Sometimes he lay on one side and sometimes on the other. When the restlessness increased, he would sit up and start taking long breaths. His color was yellow like a lump of turmeric. His eyes were sunken inward. The bridge of his nose was cold like a piece of ice. There was trembling over his whole body.
By Muhammad Haris khan a day ago in Fiction
The Real Reason You Keep Falling Back Into Old Habits. AI-Generated.
The Real Reason You Keep Falling Back Into Old Habits You decide to change. You try. You fail. Over and over. It’s not lack of willpower. It’s not laziness. Here’s the science behind why your old habits keep winning—and what you can actually do about it.
By Muhammad Haris khan 7 days ago in Psyche
