sidewalk scribbling

I don't know when I noticed it, but at one point in my life I realised how my mother always served us first - chose the ugliest fried egg, the smallest piece of chicken, the scrappiest slice of bread. At one point in my life I tried to stop her from doing that, instead offering up my share of a chocolate or an extra bite of my chowmein, thinking, hey, I'm so grown up and mature now, being selfless and all that ! Now that I have Zain and mind you, he's just a year old, my mother has four of us (oldest being in his 40s!), I realise how I can never repay my mother for everything she gave up for us, most of which we never even noticed or acknowledged. Our happiness, our comfort, our needs. It  was, and is, always me and my siblings before her ownself. I have never doubted the strength of women and as I grow older, I see more clearly than ever that women are stronger and more amazing than the world cares to let on.  And to some extent, that's okay.  If every selfless act of ...

It’s the honey soft warmth of the sun on your face, your neck, after a week of cold gray clouds and rain, like a slow, deep breath, like climbing into a soft, clean bed after a long day and snuggling deeper into lavender scented blankets, like someone gently bringing their lips right next to your ear and blowing out all thoughts so that for one tiny moment, you close your eyes and feel at peace, that inexplicable elusive whispery feeling that never lasts for more than a few minutes at one stretch … I find it a little amusing, as a teacher who loves all her students and finds herself annoyed but somewhat charmed by that one child who never fails to spill ink across his homework, at our human tendency to never be grateful, to always want that which is just out of sight, turning around the corner, realizing the restaurant we wanted to go to was the one we just drove by and can’t turn around for because it’s a one-way street. And so it is that if I were back home in Karachi and I...

From where I’m standing Right now, It’s not really clear; I see some clouds And a grey fog Perhaps I can lean over And draw Some silver linings Around The dark A box of crayons Always by your side Reds and blues and greens And the brightest yellow And while it may be Too easy To let the box drop And drown In the gray It might be better To lean over And draw silver Around The dark. Hello, new year, another year. I think at some point I stopped owning the years – you know, how when we were younger and in school, we’d start off the new year by always writing down last year in the blue and red margins of our notebooks – but then eventually, we’d grow used to the actual date and our margins would stop being all smudgy.  For some reason, now when another year steamrolls into me, there are two thoughts that come one after the other (like a race between two close runners, with one leading and then the other overtaking and you don’t know wh...

I woke up today to complete silence.   Later, when I sat near the window I heard the sweet twitter of birds, faint, polite, cute.   Quite a difference from the loud caw-cawing of the crows that came to perch on the AC right outside our bedroom window in Karachi and wouldn’t stop their yelling for several long painful minutes. We’re in Nottingham now – currently moving from one AirBnb to another, nomads wearing the same pair of jeans for the last eight days, realizing how useful a washing machine can be and wondering if we will ever be able to wear sandals or open-toe shoes again. From the comforts of life in Pakistan to the start of a brand new story in England. When did time slip off its clunky wooden shoes and replace them with silver roller blades? Sometimes it feels like if we’re always chasing after time, our arms outstretched but our eyes glued to our TV screens or phones or laptops, making it difficult to catch up. And I bet Time rolls her eyes, mutterin...

September 12 Since we never have enough time in today’s world, we always put insignificant things like physical health, social obligations and childhood dreams at the backburner, promising ourselves that one day we will join the gym, start swimming, incorporate sports into our lives, one day we will call that old aunt who sits in a dusty corner by the window, lost in the past because the present is the same day after day, colorless, melting into an unending strip of melancholy, one day we will give ourselves the time and energy to pursue dreams of writing a book, painting murals in dilapidated government hospitals, opening a café that specializes in cheesecakes and good conversation… Right now we have more important things to do, office work, house work, repetitive weekend plans with friends/co-workers, and of course, Candy Crush. (or if you think you’re cooler, then FIFA).   And then I came back to Pakistan, to this sweet sterile valley of Islamabad, my friends in ...