Blast from the Past Dr. Areeb Khan had spent years working on a groundbreaking invention—a quantum-powered time machine. After endless calculations and failed attempts, his machine was final

Blast from the Past

Dr. Areeb Khan had spent years working on a groundbreaking invention—a quantum-powered time machine.

After endless calculations and failed attempts, his machine was finally ready. He knew the risks, but curiosity outweighed caution. He set the dials to August 14, 1947—the day Pakistan gained independence. Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside the machine and activated it. we all love it.

A deafening hum filled the lab as blue light engulfed him. The air around him twisted, and within seconds, he was no longer in his familiar workspace. Instead, he stood in the middle of a bustling marketplace in Karachi. The scent of freshly ground spices filled the air, mingling with the aroma of street food. People rushed past him, their excitement palpable.

He adjusted his glasses, trying to blend in. Nearby, a young boy, no older than twelve, passionately spoke about Muhammad Ali Jinnah’s leadership. Areeb, intrigued, moved closer.  

“You seem quite knowledgeable,” Areeb said.  

The boy, Rafiq, beamed. “Our Quaid has given us a new country! This is a dream come true for all of us.”  

Areeb marveled at the boy’s enthusiasm. “And what do you want to do for this new country?”  

“I want to be a doctor. My father says Pakistan will need educated people to grow strong.” Rafiq’s eyes sparkled with determination.  

They walked through the streets, where people proudly waved green and white flags. The air was thick with chants of “Pakistan Zindabad!” Areeb saw firsthand the sacrifices and struggles of people who had left everything behind for a new homeland.  

At a small tea stall, an elderly man overheard their conversation.

“You are lucky to witness this, young man,” he told Areeb. “We have fought hard for this day. Never forget the price of freedom.”  

The words struck Areeb deeply. He had always known the history, but standing there, feeling the emotions of the people, he realized he had never truly understood the depth of their struggle.  

As the sun began to set, Areeb checked his pocket watch—his cue to leave. He turned to Rafiq. “I must go now.”  

Rafiq looked surprised but quickly pulled a small Pakistani flag from his pocket. “Take this, brother. No matter where you go, always remember what this country stands for—faith, unity, and discipline.”  

Areeb took the flag, his heart heavy with emotion. “Thank you, Rafiq. I will never forget this day.”  

With one last glance at the city glowing under newly lit street lamps, Areeb pressed the button on his wrist device. A bright flash consumed him, and he was back in his lab. The silence of the room felt strange after the energy of 1947.  

He looked down at the flag in his hand, a powerful reminder of the resilience and sacrifices that built his nation. This journey had not just been about time travel—it was a lesson in identity, gratitude, and pride.

we love our beloved PAKISTAN ZINDABAD, Yes really we love it ,With one last glance at the