The Night was standard. The smell of daal and freshly baked roti stuffed the small, two-place home wherever Anwar Masih lived along with his spouse and two youngsters. Laughter echoed as his youngest daughter, Sara, recounted a story from school. It absolutely was an easy, sacred moment of peace—a picture https://youtu.be/gPn_ICbEbdU
A Household's Cry: The Human Expense Of Blasphemy Laws in Pakistan
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