On the morning of an important day at the end of the last academic year. ~ Any resemblances to persons living or dead is purely your imagination. ~ The other team’s boys looked nice – nice and professional, both of them. They were roughly the same height, dressed in almost identical two-piece suits, and… Continue reading description.
Maryam Z is a beautiful, creative and kind soul that I am lucky enough to call my friend. She wrote the following piece. I rarely post stuff by other people on this blog, but I found this so exquisite that I couldn’t resist. I post it with her permission, and on the condition that I… Continue reading They Talk In Riddles
An infinity of empty blackness. This chasm of nothingness seems to extend limitlessly. It is otherworldly – it seems to have existed since eternity, before time began, and til after time will cease. In the middle of the emptiness a row of chairs is suspended, extending on both sides into the distance, further than the… Continue reading Of childhood dreams.
Um. Just some rambling. *blushes slightly* – My last chance. My reason to risk it all, my reaffirmation that I’m not as good as I seem. In my world, you’re the only open painting on a wall where the others have drapes, are hidden under a veil. You’re the oil colours I treasure, that I… Continue reading of recent events.
~ This was Part 1. ~ Sometimes I think one of the reasons why I’m still not qualified as a pakki Karachi girl is that I don’t respond to every situation with a sharp tongue and a witty response. I prefer the frigid British stare, but most people here are impervious to it. I’d picked… Continue reading tri-wheeled morality – part II
~ Two real life incidents ~ An arm extended, at the end of which my hand flaps dully and ineffectually as I shield my eyes with the other and wait for the small but loud vehicle to slow down and stop. Not that they ever slow down enough – the screeching of brakes whistle by… Continue reading tri-wheeled morality – part I
I remember my grandfather as he was before the dim days of the end, the illness and the slow breaking down under time of the man we all loved. Before those days of obvious decline, and yet after his days of sharp, head-of-the-family imperiousness, there was a soft middle period where he was neither broken… Continue reading of Nana Abbu.