'Wives of soldiers never cry' echoed the most familiar voice in her memory, and the long constrained tears that had been prickling her eyes, escaped; flowing down her cheek into the sand. She was standing at the beach, with the sun staring down at her from above. It was a remote sun baked place that looked like one of the last places that God made: untouched by civilisation and exquisitely beautiful in its wilderness. They had chosen to come here the summer before for the peace it offered. But now that she had come again, she knew that it was only her inner peace that had made this spot a tranquil one. Sadly, she was devoid of it now, and the beauty of the place had palled for her. She had come here for the first time near the end of June the year before, not too long after her wedding. Between the two solstices, how life had changed, only she knew…or her God. Ironically, the shortest day of the year became one that was too long to endure as she stood there by the sea. There was a December bite to the otherwise humid air, and the sun shone weakly overhead; its rays could not thaw the bitter chill that filled her up. The feelings of bitterness and hopelessness she was experiencing were awful. Beyond the sea, in the whirl of memories, she could see her old self - her distinct air of glamour, sophistication and pizzazz. Growing up in the 'Alpha Bravo Charlie' days and being a daughter of an army officer, she had always had a fancy for the uniformed personnel. Fate had granted her this deepest desire in his form. He was a tall, fairly muscular and strikingly handsome young man - or maybe she was just biased in his favour. She was tall herself, a statuesque beauty with beautifully sculptured features. Together they made a fair couple. Life was as good as a fairy tale, better than that if the story tellers had known. Today the memories were surging back to her, colliding against her empty existence like the tides that crashed into the rocks near her. Yet the roar was nothing in contrast to the storms that engulfed her dreams, her life, her soul, her very own self. And so, silence hung in her world. She was hollow, so hollow that she knew she could never feel the warmth of life again. So many things she had planned, so many words that were left unsaid and so many things left undone and he was gone. It was almost unbelievable. She would still lay table for two, order his favourite food and make two cups of cold coffee in the evening, waiting for him. She often wondered why his cell number never responded--'the number you have dialed is not responding', ah how this sentence killed her. Such cruelty and torture it was. He had always said he wanted to be martyred but she never knew it was going to happen so soon. He had volunteered to join his comrades in Swat. She remembered how she had waited for news everyday and spent each moment spent praying to God for his safety. Every night she would get up to offer nafil at tahajud for his safety. It was around noon when she had got the call. "Bhabi, it's BM, Major Kamal speaking. Captain sahib has embraced shahadat." What happened next she did not remember. She came out of her reverie. Tears started rolling down her cheeks and she did not bother to wipe them away. The trail of ravines on her face permanently marked it. Tears gave way to sobs then became unanswered questions in her mind: When will the violence end? Will the women and children continue to suffer indefinitely? The evening sun was sinking gently towards the horizon. Night was enveloping the remnants of sunlight in its gentle embrace. Somewhere in the distance a child's laughter filled the air. A warm gale perfumed with a beautiful fragrance played against her face. Bvlgari BLV - no, it was something far more heavenly. Hadn't she smelled it every time she thought so fondly of him. Again she felt that he was there, somewhere near. She knew, she had always known. He was all around, he never went, and he never would. "You will be rewarded," she whispered softly to the air, preparing to leave, heading for her car. As the engine roared to life she noticed the dusk through the wind screen. It was a dark evening with dim stars like a black velvet cloak covered with twinkling fairy lights. Yet that one cluster of stars shone as brightly as the glint that had always been in his eyes. 'They are there', she thought, 'all of them, there and in the heavens above and they will be…never gone.'

Shehwar Shikoh Khan: The crossover attempt of the A.R. Rehman–Pussycat Dolls Jai Ho failed to impress. There wasn't any particular need of doing the collaboration, the thing's barely artistic. Sure, Nicole spun the magic of her versatile vocals as always, but the fusion attempt of dancing styles and clothes didn't succeed. Nicole's steps clashed with her Indianised garb, and her trademark moves looked out of place. The red pants and boots rather gave her the appearance of a circus trainer. In some of the shots, she was sensualized in Indian style – that bit worked greatly. Apart from that, the rest of the Dolls weren't involved much in the song or the video. Rehman's 'cameo' in his own song didn't gel well. The video was an awkward spectacle…it reminded you of the Asha Bhosle–Bret Lee thing, in which they had his image butchered rather brutally.