Name: Omar Shahzad

Age: 14 years 9 months

Class: 9

School; Head Start School System

Address: Naval Housing Scheme, House Number C-15. Zamzama, Karachi

Telephone number: 03212717330

Email address: omar8227@hs-spartan.com

Parent’s name: Azra Hafeez

CNIC no: 42301-4796042-6

Contribution: A short story on ‘My Most Memorable Birthday’

Although many people associate their memorable birthdays with lavish and extravagant ones, my most
memorable birthday was quite simple and realistic. My most memorable birthday was my Sweet 16
birthday party. I had recently lost my favourite job which I had worked so hard for as the company was
falsely accused of embezzlement. Consequently, it had to shut down.As a result,  I was sitting at home,
wetting the pillows and wailing profoundly that I even forgot that it was my birthday the next day. When
i woke up to the calls of the cockerel early the next morning. I scrolled one through my phone to find out
that my phone contact history was deluged with calls from my mother. Praying that everything was
okay, I yanked off my quilts and hit the road for my mother’s cottage. After about half an hour, I reached
there. To my surprise, the lights were off. Despite the scorching sunlight, the cottage was looking like an  
abandoned warehouse. I threw open the gate to find the cottage decorated with balloons. Suddenly ,
whilst searching for the lights, my blood froze when I sensed someone’s icy-cold hands on my shoulder.
Anticipating the worst, I turned around to find my brother brandishing a huge grin. It was then that the
lights went on and to my sheer astoundment, I found that the cottage was decorated splendidly. Golden
tinsels were hanging from the wall and a mesmerizing table-cloth was set on the table. In addition, the
room was bursting with balloons . As if this was not enough, I turned around to find my family members
entering the room. All of them enveloped me in a tight embrace by one and each gave me a beautifully
wrapped gift. After what seemed like a bountiful eternity of small talk, my grandmother clapped her
hands and announced that it was time to cut my birthday cake. Abiding by her decision, everyone
shoved me forward and my mother placed the knife in my hand. The room echoed with the resonance
of the birthday song recital as I cut into the cake. Then my father shoved the piece of cake into my
mouth, which tantalized my tastebuds with a decadent and delectable chocolatey flavour. This memory
is strongly emblazoned into my mind and I will never be able to forget it.