Gouya Roshan From Darkness to Light

  Being Kurdish; A Root That Cannot Be Silenced Being Kurdish is not just a word on an ID card or a geographic definition; it is a memory born with a person that stays until their last breath. One can move away from the mountains, live in another city, write in another language; Yet the invisible thread connecting a person to their roots never breaks. For many, identity is a choice; something that can be changed or hidden. But for Kurds, identity has often been a destiny. A long history of denial, oppression, migration, and war has tried to erase this name, but the result has been the opposite: every blow has only deepened the memory. The Kurdish language is not just a means of communication; it is a home for emotions. It carries lullabies, mourning, joy, and the stories of generations who wanted to be seen. When a language is ignored, a part of the human being is ignored as well. That is why preserving the language is not merely a cultural task—it is a defense of human dignity. Be...

  When the Calendar Is in the Neighbor's Hands😀😃 Until recently, Canadian politics was a lot like an ice   figure skating  game: full of clashes, but with rules that were generally agreed upon.  People paid their bills on time, talked about the weather, and even if they were unhappy with the government, at least they knew what its strategy was. Then suddenly, from across the border, a name began appearing every day like a weather forecast:  Donald Trump . 😳 Every morning, before the coffee had even finished brewing, the air was filled with the scent of “new plans.” By noon, the plans had changed again; by evening, everyone was asking: “What's going to happen now?” 😀 The interesting part is that Canadian officials realized they were dealing with a natural phenomenon: a mix of storm, thunder, and live television coverage. The more they analyzed it, the more confused they became: Should they open an umbrella or grab some popcorn? 😅😂 Meanwhile,  Mark Car...

The World on Trump’s Calendar: Tired Politicians, a Queueing Globe Politics, laughter, and global trade… Anyone who thinks the world spins solely by rigid diplomatic rules should take a closer look at Donald Trump’s maneuvers. Suddenly, the world looks like a calendar on his desk; each day a different country, each hoping to be next in line. Saturday?  Congratulations, Europe! Prepare for renegotiation, readjustments, and probably another shock. Sunday?  Dear Middle East, topics have shifted. Yesterday we discussed one thing, today we have something new. Monday?  Asia, open your calculators. If the numbers don’t grab your attention, the full story hasn’t been revealed yet. Tuesday?  Canada, don’t worry… we are just watching the situation more closely. Wednesday?  Washington. Breaking news, instant analyses, sudden controversies. Is there even time to breathe and rest? Thursday & Friday?  The media is ready; the show must go on. This method isn’t hard: a...

Mahabad Is the Home of My Heart Mahabad is not just a city that exists on a map; it beats in the gentle rhythm of my heart. Every alley holds a memory, every morning brings a new light, and every evening whispers sweet recollections. Mahabad is not merely a name to me—it is a feeling… a feeling of earth, of sound, of love. This home is bound to my soul. Although it carries some bitter memories, its beauty remains more alive than ever in my mind. I can still hear my mother’s voice echoing through the alley, smell the food that no one else can cook the same way, hear my brothers’ voices, the laughter of children, and their carefree games. This is my Mahabad. Every street and every narrow lane is filled with pure and simple memories: games that lasted late into the night, my mother calling me home, and a hand gently wiping the dust from my face. Even now, when I close my eyes, I can still hear that voice—soft, kind, and full of comfort. As the holiday approached, the house would come aliv...

  The Sin of Silence: When Human Rights Are Asleep  Being human is not merely having two arms and two legs. Being human means having the ability to feel another person’s pain, even if we do not know them. It means that when we know someone is suffering, we do not remain silent. It means not hiding the truth, even when it is costly. There are times when we have never met someone in person, yet when they are treated unjustly, we feel heartbroken. This empathy, regardless of nationality, religion, or borders, is a sign that humanity is still alive. If our hearts still respond to the suffering of others, then we are still human, even if the world has turned its back on that humanity. However, some human rights institutions, which are meant to be guardians of justice, do not respond adequately to the widespread suffering of people. This is not ignorance; it is a choice. A choice about which crises to see and which to ignore. Which victims to highlight and which to marginalize. For ...

The Shoe That Lasts One Year Human beings are creatures guided by plans and arrangements. Our daily lives are filled with “later,” “next year,” “when the time comes,” and “just in case.” We take the future for granted—so much so that we build houses for it, buy insurance policies, and make promises. Yet at the edge of all these certainties stands death; not as an extraordinary event, but as a constant truth, watching this scene with a cold smile. The image of a man who gives his shoe to a cobbler and says, “Repair it so that it will last for one year,” is simple yet profound. This sentence captures the essence of the human mind—a mind that assumes survival as something natural. It is not spoken out of pride, but out of habit. We are used to taking life for granted. We are used to believing our bodies are more durable than the things we wear. Yet the bitter irony of life lies exactly here: the shoe lasts for a year, but its owner does not last even a single day. In this narrative, death...

Why has democracy in Pakistan always remained unfinished? Despite the electoral spectacle, democracy in Pakistan has never evolved into a stable and transparent system. What we have witnessed over the past seven decades is not the consolidation of popular sovereignty, but a vicious cycle of short-lived civilian governments, overt and covert military interventions, and deep public distrust toward politics. The core problem in Pakistan is not the absence of elections, but a structure that prevents real power from resting in the hands of the people. Pakistan was born in crisis from the very beginning. A rushed independence, widespread violence, the displacement of millions of refugees, and constant conflict with India produced a fragile, security-driven state. In such a context, the development of democratic institutions was pushed aside and “control” replaced “accountability.” Unlike many countries, in Pakistan the state took shape before society. A fragmented society, weak political par...