The Night was standard. The smell of daal and freshly baked roti loaded the modest, two-room household in which Anwar Masih lived along with his wife and two little ones. Laughter echoed as his youngest daughter, Sara, recounted a Tale from school. It had been a straightforward, sacred minute of https://youtu.be/gPn_ICbEbdU
A Loved Ones's Cry: The Human Cost of Blasphemy Guidelines in Pakistan
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