Journal Entry: 8th Ramadan, 1447 AH (26th February 2026) Location: Block 15, Gulistan-e-Johar, Karachi Current Time: 5:43 AM Status: Post-Sehri Stillness - Mushk The sky over Block 15 is shifting from that deep ink-blue to a pale, misty violet. If I lean out the balcony just enough, I can hear the overlapping echoes of the Fajr adhans from the mosques tucked between the apartment complexes—a hauntingly beautiful chorus that signals the official start of the day’s restraint. The streetlights down on the main road are still buzzing, casting long shadows over the parked cars. It’s that rare, fragile window of time in Johar where the usual roar of rickshaws and the scent of street food are replaced by the crisp, cool air of a February morning. The Morning Reflection: • The Neighborhood Pulse: Just ten minutes ago, the lights in every window in this block were blazing. Now, one by one, they’re flickering out. The chaotic clink of tea cups has surrendered to the quiet rustle of prayer mats. • The "Johar" Struggle: Wondering if the water tanker is coming today, or if I should have saved that last glass of water for my plants instead of my paratha. • The Internal Shift: There’s a specific kind of peace that settles in the chest once the Niyyat (intention) is made. The scramble is over. The hunger hasn't started yet, but the resolve has already set in. The birds are starting their morning gossip in the neem trees downstairs. Karachi is about to wake up and get loud, but for this moment, in this corner of Johar, it’s just me and the silence.