Today, The Hasht-e Subh Daily turns twenty, and even now, whenever I hear its name, I go back to the years when I was a journalism student at Kabul University. Back then, becoming a journalist was not just a wish for me; it was a dream I lived with every single day. I did not have much money, but my desire to read Hasht-e Subh was so strong that I would spend my transport fare on buying the newspaper instead.
It may sound strange to others, but to me it was worth it, because Hasht-e Subh was not just a newspaper. It was a window into a world I hoped to become part of one day. Getting a copy was not easy either. It had many readers, and if you arrived even a little late, it would be sold out. So, every day I would rush to the crossroads near the university, where an elderly man with trembling hands sold a few copies from his small blue kiosk.
Even now, I still remember those trembling hands, hands that every morning seemed to place a piece of my dreams into mine. If the newspapers were sold out or the kiosk was closed, I would feel disappointed all day, as if I had lost something important.
Then I would hold the newspaper and start reading it while walking through the streets of Kabul. The city’s noise no longer meant anything to me. I would become so absorbed in the words that the roads felt shorter and time would disappear. Sometimes, when I arrived home, I would only then realize I had walked for half an hour without noticing the distance.
Every page was inspiring to me. I read the analyses carefully and followed the humor pieces by Musa Zafar or the writings of Samira Sadat with great enthusiasm. It was within those lines that my dreams slowly began to take shape.
Sometimes I would think to myself, “I wish one day my own writing could be published in this newspaper.” At that time, the dream felt very distant, something that only belonged in imagination.
But today, when I look back, I realize that some dreams begin with simple walks through city streets, from days when a person has empty pockets but a heart full of hope, searching for something that gives life meaning.
Happy 20th anniversary to Hasht-e Subh, for a generation that learned to read more deeply, think more critically, and dare to dream more boldly.
