Flickering Lanterns

Let's 'live' and not 'survive'.

Beginning of a new Ending.

randomlyabstract reminded me of something from her last post so here it is.
(Sometimes its so hard. I tell myself to not post anything temporarily and then I’m here all like.. sorry girl’s got issues, sorry.)

– 🎶 My head's under water but I'm breathing fine. . . . Two more academic days for the last year, last semester and last week left and I have yet to decide how to feel about it. Yes, I'll miss my friends that I interacted with over the course of four years, I'll miss the conversations I had during my time spent with @moniba.meh , I'll miss all the times when I pushed harder to get ish done because life wasn't on good terms with me throughout this journey – but I don't think I'll miss the institution or anything remotely related to it. Nothing about the courses or exams. They all drove me nuts. I still got something out of it so it isn't that much of a big deal. That might make me not have hate towards this. It was a backup plan anyway. I still have to get done with finals, and I'm genuinely patiently waiting for the end of this month. There's so much on my plate that I didn't exactly order but oh well, you're not always given what you ask for. So. Yeah. Maybe I should stop here. Stressed me is a crazy mad woman. Hold on a little longer, Mahaah. This too shall pass. 💛 (Pray for me maybe?) . . #RantsAndRamblings #OuchThatWasHarsh #TravelDiaries

A post shared by Mahaah (@mahaahazeem) on


Numbness Barges In.


She doesn’t know what she’s done to get through the shit she’s going through.
She doesn’t know what the heck is wrong with the world around her.

She just wants it to end.
Right now.

She’s had enough.
She can’t take it anymore. Not any longer.

There’s two ways to end it.
A thousand to not to. But she wants it ended.

Either she could end her life.
Or she could run away.

But where would she go?

Ending her life would be a direct ticket to hell.
Running away.. to whom? She doesn’t have a place to run off to.

And there, settles the frothing foam.
There, the lava goes back in to erupt later.
There, deflates the rage.
There, numbness barges in.

Is she dead?

Is she alive?

Is she a living dead?

– Mahaah.




A two years old photo of the five year old you popped up
And you have no idea how cute you looked in there.
You might not believe it, but believe me
I had forgotten how you look like when you smile
Or what you look like at all
Despite the fact that we met seven months ago
In this same year.
Times change and so did we,
My memory weakened,
But I’ll never forget the day when
You asked me to stay away from you.
You didn’t care and I-
I pretended that I didn’t care either.
To be honest, I don’t care
But you should have tried 
Tried to be careful with your words,
Tried to at least try.
But you didn’t.
It’s alright.
I don’t mind.
You inspired me to write, 
And I’m grateful to you for that. 
I’m grateful to you for being ungrateful. 

– Mahaah.

laptop te.jpg

In The Memory Of..




(A sequel to No.

It was a bleak December, probably one of the first Decembers that she was going to remember for the rest of her life. Moriya and Morris sat on the couch, waiting for the Fajr Adhaan to hit their ears so that they could intend for another fast and go to sleep after offering prayers. Moriya fell asleep, and her mother shook her to senses. “Wake up! Go do ablution again. Gosh I told you not to fall asleep! The water is freezing cold.” All that Moriya could see was the moving set of lips of her mother, not knowing what she was saying but being aware of the fact that she was annoyed. She got up and prayed and went to bed. This was going to be a normal childhood memory for the next fifteen years.

As the aroma of a well cooked tea filled the atmosphere of the kitchen, Moriya went to the fridge to get some milk to prepare three cups of tea for the guests that her family had over their place. She held the pot tightly and poured out the tea into a cup. Just as she was about to move on to the next cup, she somehow dropped the pot onto her right leg and foot. It took a few minutes before she could realize what had happened, since all her mind was thinking about was the mess that she had created and the scoldings that were yet to be received. Tears trickled down her face and her mother came running towards the kitchen. Moriya could not feel her skin. It felt as if two sand papers were being rubbed together. As if her skin had paper cuts and someone was trying to soothe them with a paste of red chilli powder and lemon juice. Her mother rushed her to her bedroom and ripped her pjs open and emptied a tube of toothpaste on her burnt skin. Moriya had stopped crying. Seeing her mother worried gave her a sense of satisfaction for some reason. She reminded her mother of the mess. Her mother told her not to worry. “Not to worry?”, Moriya questioned herself in the back of her mind. “You’re not angry?”, Moriya asked her mother. “No I’m not. Shush. You burned yourself. Don’t get up from the bed.”, she replied. Few hours later, half of Moriya’s foot had a bubble made out of skin on it. Two days later, she tried to pop it and it worked. She had a thing for bandages, so she helped herself and did it her own way. A few hours later, her foot started to swell. She didn’t pay attention to it. The skin under her DIY bandage started to itch and she tried to take it off. That’s when Moriya realized that she had made a mistake. The cotton wouldn’t come off. She told her parents. They took her to a doctor where the cotton was removed and she was given a new bandage to wear. She couldn’t walk much with that wound and pain, so her mother told a friend of hers to pick and drop Moriya to and from her school so that she doesn’t miss her classes. Moriya forgot to thank her mother.

Moriya was heading for higher education when her mother was diagnosed with a lethal disease. She had stopped whining and taking notice of small things that used to be big for her. She lost the will to be happy, but she could still pretend to be happy for people around her. Sherry, a school friend, contacted Moriya again after a year to ask her if they could meet at a university event. Moriya agreed and they met at the given time and place. She was heading home when she fell somehow and injured her knee. It felt as if she was pulled down towards Earth, as if the Earth’s crust wanted to engulf her entire being. She could feel blood running down her calf but she couldn’t do anything about it. She wanted to cry, but she knew that crying couldn’t heal any of her wounds, not now, not ever. Moriya got home and rung the door bell. Her mother answered it. “Are you alright?”, Moriya’s mother asked her considering her quiet behavior. “Yes. I’m fine.”, Moriya smiled. Mothers. They know things because they just know things. Moriya got a disinfectant, an ointment and some cotton balls and went to change into normal clothes. There was blood on her knee. There was blood on her pjs. But for the first time, seeing blood didn’t scare her. She carefully cleaned the wound and applied some polyfax on it. Time passed and it was the next day. She came home and met her mother’s watchful eyes. “What’s wrong?”, Moriya’s mother interrogated. “Nothing?”, Moriya tried to cover it up. “Are you sure? You’ve been walking in a weird way since yesterday.”, she insisted on knowing what was going on with her daughter. “Yeah. I think I’m tired.”, Moriya replied. “Tiring in itself can’t exactly give you swollen feet. What’s on your knee?”, she stroke again. Moriya had forgotten to change her clothes before sitting in front of her mother. Due to constant crustiness and de-crustiness of the wound, blood was now visible on her pjs. “Oh. That. I don’t know from where I got it. I’ll wash it don’t worry.”, Moriya was in deep shit. “Show me. You’re lying. Show me if what you’re saying is true.”, she had been caught red handed where she herself couldn’t have imagined. Moriya showed her the wound and her mother started to cry. “But its so bad! Does it hurt? A lot? Why didn’t you tell me I could have done something oh God my poor baby!”, Moriya’s mother didn’t know how to express her feelings in a concise manner. “Yeah I didn’t want to worry you. I’m fine. Its nothing.”, Moriya tried to calm her down. “You are not going to university until your pain and this swelling goes away.”, she decided and left. Moriya felt loved and worthy of love in that very moment. She was going to have the scar of that wound for a really long time, and there were more scars to come her way. Pain was never going to go away. Not any longer.

“But you could try to feel, right? I’m really concerned about you.”, Moriya and her mother were having an argument when her mother said this. Moriya replied, “You need to be emotionless to survive in this pathetic world, mum.” Her mother listened to her and thought for a while, then went on,”But if everyone starts to think like that, there’ll be no warmth left.” Moriya looked at her in astonishment and then said, “I’m not harming anyone with my behavior. I just don’t allow anyone or anything to get to my head. And its pretty helpful. You should try it. You have a really gooey heart, try getting a shield on it. I don’t like it when people say hurtful things to you and you forgive them even if they don’t apologize.” Moriya’s mother smiled at her daughter who had seen a lot at a very young age. “You are harming yourself. Honey, if I acted like everyone else out there, there would be no difference left between them and me. I’d rather be different.”, she smiled and stroked Moriya’s hair. She continued, “You are not like this, Moriya. You never were. You are a sensitive person at heart. Don’t be so cold. That crazy sunny warmth inside you, it will die of cold and I can’t let that happen.” Moriya stared blank at her mother. She was right. But she was also being emotional. Emotional and rational approaches collide, so did Moriya’s and her mothers’ views. She kissed Moriya’s forehead and left to go to bed. It had been a rough day, but Moriya was yet to see more of them.

“I saw it coming. Is it acceptable that I saw it coming?”, Moriya looked at her tear-drenched face in the mirror. Her mother had passed away after losing her battle to cancer. “Two decades. Just two decades. I needed more time.”, Moriya said to herself. She washed her face. Memories came crashing in and beat up her mind. She accepted it, but it was a void that could never be filled. So many memories in the memory of her, who could have known. Moriya was grief stricken, she could feel after all. Moriya now knew, numbness was also a feeling.

– Mahaah.

MBB Sigma Find Me

The Art of Letting Go.



I’m extremely sad right now. The calm on the surface is hiding the currents that are creating a havoc underneath. Gotta be okay with not being okay, eh? I just quoted Chris Evans from Before We Go. I’ve been saying in my blogs that a lot has happened since the start of 2017. But I’ve been equally lazy to not write it down. I wanted to, but I just couldn’t. There was a lot. I didn’t have the will. Something happened today that just.. I can’t keep it in. I need to let it out or else I won’t be able to focus on my assignment. This needs to get out of the way. Let’s go back to the beginning.

January 2017. My folks and I, we were happy to leave. We had our visas at a hand’s length. Allah taa’la had called us all to his place. We were going to perform Umrah. One of my mother’s last wishes was going to come true, finally. We reached there on the 13th of January. According to the plan, we had one week for Madinah, one for Makkah and then except three members of the family (Me and my both parents) everyone was supposed to go back to Pakistan. We had a week for Jeddah, for shopping and stuff that we hadn’t had the time for in Madinah and Makkah. All three of us arrived at our cousin’s place who was then residing in Jeddah. Everything was okay until when two days later my mother started feeling sicker than ever. The next three days, she had an oscillating condition. A day before we were supposed to catch our flight back home, she lost her consciousness. We got to know later on that she’d had a Cardiogenic Shock. She was a cancer patient then, I think I forgot to mention that. Seven hours before we were supposed to leave for the airport, she was admitted into an ICU on ventilator – where she stayed for a month and two days. I stayed with my heartbroken father in Jeddah for a week after she was admitted until my brother arrived again. She didn’t come back to senses when I was still there. I had to leave for Pakistan since my sister was alone at home. I traveled alone for the first time in my life. I had a feeling that this was a foreshadowing of some sort. And it was. I managed the house alone, took care of my sister and tried to get my academic year back to track. We’d get information on my mother’s health on phone, but a part of me always told me to keep my expectations low and to not lose hope. A month passed by, and on 4th March, my mother celebrated her birthday in an ICU. The word celebrated here is used for some other reason. She went through tracheotomy on the same day and showed improvement. Two nights later, the nurse informed my family that she had passed away.  Her cancer had developed and enveloped the space in her lungs and was going to attack her brain next, which might have resulted in memory loss had she lived. She died of the second heart attack that she could not tolerate. My mother left after fighting a five years long battle. It was a huge loss. But Almighty somehow gave me and my family enough patience to get through it. I miss her with every breath that I take, but I’m glad that she is now free. I’m hoping that she’s having fun up there. May God bless you with the best of ranks in Jannah, Ammi. Ameen.

March 2017. I lost all my will to go back to university. I proposed the idea of dropping out to my father which he refused. Then came the struggle of saving my semester. I had to cover all my assignments in three weeks time, just like The Art of Getting By. I read all my course books in 24 hours before each exam. Alhamdulilah got through it as well.

May 2017. One of my stories, “Dreams and Visions” was published in a departmental magazine called Zau. It was an accomplishment until I forgot about it being an accomplishment.

June 2017. Semester break had started. I had started to get my courage back in place to look at photos of my deceased mother. One night, I stayed up till Fajr and collected all of her photos in a folder in my old laptop. I extracted some of my old photos too and got the folder ready to get transferred to my new laptop, once I had bought a USB of a larger capacity. I bought new art supplies and improved some of my skills. I also put together the house back in place. It seemed all torn out ever since Ammi had left. Got rid of stuff and sorted it all out.

July 2017. The only big memory of this month was my first ever surprise birthday party because it made me cry tears of joy. My friends did an amazing job there and I’m glad that they tried to make me feel better.

August 2017. Life was like, something bad hasn’t happened to you in a while, right? Lets put your patience to test again. Yesterday my sister broke this news to me without any preparatory consolation, “Aapi, the hard drive of your old laptop is gone. We need to get a new one.” Guess what? Another huge loss of this year and my life. I lost approximately 23.6 GB of photographs that I had taken from September 2011 to January 2017. Six years of photography, gone and buried, never to be found again. Even Ammi’s photos from 2005 to 2016 are gone that I had gathered on a horrible tear-filled night some two months ago when I stayed up till Fajr. All I’m left with is some traces of 2014 in my Google Drive and every photo of 2017 in my phone. Thank goodness that I hadn’t cleared up my photo gallery despite every reminder. My heart is beating out of my chest right now. I just can’t. I want to cry but its no use. They won’t come back. A part of my life that I could remember only through photos is now gone. Since Ammi’s death has left me with very poor memory and an exceeding-the-scale tolerance. I’m calm, but only I know what’s gone. I don’t know when I stopped reacting at things.

Letting go is not easy. I was thinking that it might be since I got over a lot of things in the near past. But this. This requires me to learn the art of letting go in its entirety. Guess I’ll be more focused on my assignment now, since I’ve gotten this out of the way. Ah. Sigh.

– Mahaah.

(Side note : Pray for my Ammi, if you can. This artwork belongs to my amazingly talented friend Mahoor, so beware of the copy rights. Also, Hi again. I’m back from the state of hiatus.)  


Am I dumb or am I dumb?

(This is gonna be a fun post since I’ve been a bit upset. Here’s something funny and hilarious from me to me because duh, y’all know its always us in the end who stick with us. Geddit? Let’s not get into pessimistic shit all over again. Oops. I’m ranting carefreely here, my carefree includes those words. So yeah. Lezzgo.)


It’s been a month since Baba bought me a new laptop, and its one of the happy things that have happened to me so far this year. Its been ages since I’ve written something apart from stuff for academic purposes, and Lord knows, I have a lot to write but I don’t get enough time or energy to pour it out. So guess what? I get apps downloaded into this new laptop, log into my social media and check out my WordPress. I don’t see no admin bar on my screen, hence I’m unable to post or read anything at all. I am legit worried, and I ask my friends if they have the problem of a non-existent admin bar or if WordPress is down. I Google how to fix this problem. They tell me all this coding shit that I needed to do like a hacker. I aint no hacker, y’all know. So… after a gap of two weeks, I turned on my laptop again for some university assignment. Lost in my thoughts, I typed in the url box and guess what? They take me to the frickin home page.


The eff?

All. This. Time.


So stoopid of me. So stupid.

Am I dumb or am I dumb?

*Laughs at her miserable life*

(Might as well delete this later. I’m excited to post for the first time from my very own first pc.)


hair bun cute girl sleeping on laptop

(A sequel to Bare.)

Warmth rained and the rays emitting from sun touched the surface of Earth with a sweet delicate touch. Spring had finally showed up at the bleak cold party of weathers. An orange butterfly circled around Moriya and flew away. She absorbed her surroundings and became one with them. Warm, gleeful and gay. The red bricks of her college buildings, the carved arches, the old yet strong pillars of the corridor and the perfectly mowed and shaped lawns added beauty to what was in her view. Observations isolated her from Mohini, and she came back to the realization of coming to that event with someone when Mohini hit her on the arm.
“Where are you?”, Mohini grinned at Moriya.
“Uh.. here? Am I invisible?”, Moriya covered her zoning out.
“You are so not here.”, Mohini rolled her eyes at Moriya.
“Okay? Now I am. What do we do now?”, asked Moriya, looking at the brightly decorated stalls.

It was an annual college fair. Moriya had never attended any of these events before. The only reason why she came was Mohini. Had Mohini not insisted her, she wouldn’t have bothered to wake up in the morning that day. Both of them walked towards a stall that said “ART FROM YOUR HEART”. Mohini got pretty excited to enter the competition when she read the terms and conditions letter. She turned towards Moriya and asked her if she wanted to register too. The competition allowed art of all genres, depending on availability of chances and participants.
“What do you think then? Should I sign you up?”, Mohini eagerly asked.
“I don’t know man. I can’t win competitions. That’s just not me.”, Moriya replied.
“We’re not here to win stuff, dumbo. We’re here for the fun!”, Mohini looked at Moriya with puppy eyes.
“What are you signing up for?”, Moriya tried to show interest.
“Writing competition? But you can enter in both painting and writing categories. If you like. You should, I mean.”, Mohini expressed her thoughts.
“Painting isn’t a biggie. What kind of writing competition is that by the way?”, Moriya asked Mohini.
“Its a group thing. We’ve got to research upon stuff and write a report. I’m tired of creative writing competitions anyway. Oh wait. You could register for the same group as me! I’m telling you its gonna be fun!”, Mohini came up with another idea.
“Really? Who else is going to be in your group then?”, Moriya felt like someone’s gotten her back so she could go for it, if she liked.
“Ayla? I think Ayla would be a good partner.”, Mohini replied.
“Ayla? I’m not gonna sign up for this if Ayla is there. Ayla and I. We don’t get along. So I’m out. I’m not sorry.”, Moriya shrank away.

Experiences from the past had taught Moriya to step back from plans if there were people who she couldn’t glide with. The friction made her uncomfortable, and she always tried her level best to stay away from conflicts. But trouble, trouble loved her. She didn’t search for troubles, troubles found her.

“Hey. Listen. It’s going to be fine. I know about Ayla and I know about you. But I’ve got your back. Nothing will happen, trust me. Now can we please sign up for this amazing contest?”, Mohini tried to convince Moriya.
“Don’t let shit happen then. I’m putting my faith in you.”, said Moriya and signed on the form that Mohini had placed in front of her.
“Cool. Lets move over to that one.”, Mohini submitted the forms and pointed towards another stall.

The fair was over but the competition went on because of a longer deadline. Mohini had now made it a group of four, having added another person named Isabella. Isabella was an amazing writer and a well read person. She didn’t just search for material, she dug for it and found it. Ayla, Mohini and Moriya were trying to do their best as well. They created an online group to share their findings and gave themselves the deadlines to get work done in time and to compile it.

“This is not possible.”, Moriya said to Morris when he told her that cancer had attacked their mother’s health again, this time, in the liver.
“But it is like that. Don’t worry. The medication will cure her disease.”, Morris said in a comforting deep voice.
“Cure? A cure for cancer? Do you think I am dumb enough to believe what you are saying?”, Moriya started to lose her mind.
“Pray, okay. Pray. And don’t lose focus.”, Morris said and left.

Focus. How can one focus when they watch their loved ones go towards death, slowly and brutally?

Messages and notifications filled her phone screen when she turned on the Wi-Fi as if Armageddon had already initiated. She knew that the deadline for the report submission was near, and that she was only half way through her part of the research. Her mother’s health didn’t let her put her best to the research. She was rubbing her eyes from a nap that she had taken on her study table when her phone started vibrating. Mohini’s name popped up. She knew something was coming. Moriya dreaded the future but picked up the phone.
“Hi.”, said Moriya in a deep sleepy tone.
“Where are you, Moriya? Do you know how screwed up we’re gonna be if we don’t finish our tasks on time?”, asked Mohini.
“I know. There’s some stuff going on. I’m trying though. I’ll get it done, don’t worry.”, said Moriya.
“You HAVE to get it done. Do you get it? I know there’s stuff going on but do it, please.”, said Mohini and ended the call.
“I’m in deep shit.”, Moriya mumbled under her breath and put her phone down.

Moriya’s mother was feeling better that night, so her family decided to have dinner at a nearby restaurant. She had gotten ready earlier than her sister, so she sat down to check her social media for the remaining waiting time. Her notifications were on fire. She checked the online group for the report and tears started streaming down her face. A post that had been uploaded an hour ago said, “Attach your files below.”. The deadline was two days after. The compilation process had to be started. The only person who hadn’t completely written her part was Moriya. She knew she was the one to blame. Moriya scrolled down the comments on that post and her heart sank. Ayla had stated all the times when Moriya couldn’t do something that she was assigned to do. Mohini and Isabella had no other choice but to believe what Ayla had to say, because Moriya wasn’t there to defend herself. Ayla had stated half stories, even if they ended in a good way. Ayla had this innate talent of making positive things into the worst negative things possible, and she used this ability well, in nasty ways. Ayla had humiliated her before too, but this humiliation was more painful. Moriya was ashamed of her existence. She wanted the Earth’s crust to burst open, so that she could bury herself in and no one could see her.

Moriya’s mother asked her to get up and be seated in the car. She took that journey with a heavy heart. Her mood had been ruined, for something that she didn’t really sign up for.

“I’m sorry about what happened. You’re done with your part by the way, right?”, Mohini’s text message brought life to Moriya’s phone screen.
“Yes I am. I sent it a while ago.”, Moriya simply replied to the question.
“I said I’m sorry.”, Mohini’s bubble read.
“Don’t talk to me about it. Bye.”, Moriya shut her out.

The report was submitted. They didn’t win but they got third place. Moriya didn’t perform well in the final parts as well, she wasn’t prepared, but that was somehow overlooked by Ayla. Ayla never apologized. Moriya stopped expecting an apology.

Time went by and Moriya chose a different subject for her next year at college. Moriya had to leave Mohini behind but the decision saved her from scorching awesomeness of Ayla. It took time before none of it mattered to her, but what was surprising for her was the neutral chill behavior of Ayla, through her texts. She couldn’t care less, Moriya had moved on.

Moriya had now learned that no matter what a close friend says, if your gut says no, you should better stay away from things that don’t seem inviting in the first place. It took months and years, but she finally learnt how to say no.

– Mahaah.

[Amalgamation of a dream and a real life event.]

(Should I start writing a Moriya Diaries thing? Idk it feels real. What do you think? Let me know below.)

ذات کا انتقال


Transcription in Urdu:

Zindagi mein kabhi na kabhi hum is muqaam per aa jaatay hain jahaan hum apni zindagi aur uss ki tarjeehaat se larna bund kar detay hain. Humen samajh aajata hai kay agar hum kuch badal nahi saktay tou uss kay saath guzara karna hota hai. Bagheyr kisi shikayat aur shikway kay. Chaahay dil bujh jaye, chaahay dumm ghutnay lagay, chaahay apni zaat raakh ho kar zarra zarra hojaye. Chaahay jo bhi ho. Chehray per ek masnoo’ee muskurahat sajaaye zindagi ko uss kay sahi dagar per chalana hota hai. Hum haar tasleem kar letay hain, iss amal kay doraan kaheen khud ko qatal bhi kar aatay hain, kyun kay hum bad-qismati se ek esay mu’aashray ka hissa hain jahan desi mediocre riwwayon mein tabdeeli aur inqilaab ki baaten tou buhat hain, magar unn baaton ko amli jama pehnaney se buhat maharat se gurayz kia jata hai. Zaat ka intiqaal ho jata hai, aur “loag” khush hojatey hain — kisi aur maamlay pe bigarney kay liye.

Translation in English:

Once in a lifetime, we arrive at a point where we stop fighting against our life and its priorities. We understand that we’re supposed to adjust and compromise with things that we can’t change. Without any complains. Even if our heart deflates, even if we suffocate, even if our identity crumbles down to dust. No matter what happens. Faking a smile, we need to lead life on the right track. We accept defeat. We even kill ourselves during this process, because we unfortunately belong to a society where there are talks about change and revolution in traditional mediocre behaviors, but practicing those notions is entirely ignored. Individual identity dies, and “people” get satisfied — to get angry on some other issue.

– Mahaah.

Will just doesn’t come together.


I’ve been wanting to write something for the blog for a very long time and I can admit that with the bottom of my heart mostly because my typing speed right now is pretty fast and I know at the back of my mind that if I don’t get these words through in a particular speed, they’ll be lost in the next minute. So here I am continuing this stream of consciousness like thing.. not knowing where exactly it will go and what exactly it will end up with. But whatever, I am here at least and I am writing something. It means a lot for a person like me at this stage. 2017 has been a bit unpredictable so far. So much happened. I will come back to the happenings and highlights of the year later. And I don’t even know if that later will arrive later or a really late later, as I type. I don’t even know if that makes sense, but I don’t really care about making sense at the moment. It is the purest form of expression at its rawest. I used to say in my previous block that my words just don’t come together. But this time I have my words together, the WILL just doesn’t come together.

– Mahaah.

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