In a dream
He looked into the sky and realized that its blue colour had resigned to red. The sun was setting. He turned his face to the reflection of sun forming a line in the waters of Dal Lake and followed it...
View ArticleWomen; two lives
“Will you tell these stories in your papers?” Amala squints up at Reva’s oval face. She really looks very much like her sister Meera. Only, taller, like Amala. But impatient. “Auntie, this is all...
View ArticleDiscourse of the learned
Through the alleys of the giant library, walled with rags and book volumes, I was walking. Fragrance of old paper was inspiring me to continue my journey. On my both sides, there were books. Books with...
View ArticleThe day I died
People would call me Jan Soab, they still do, but with some suffixes added like Janti or Janatgaar. I left my body last Saturday. Since people believe that time heals everything, my last night in this...
View ArticleIn the Shrine of Laurence
Masterjee, the most noble and gentle person of our hamlet used to teach students of whole village. He used to give more sermons than lectures. He had kept provision for poor and orphan students and...
View ArticleThe first attack
Clouds of odorous smoke billowed out from under the two iron channels where the shutter of Ab Jaan’s waan fit. Not presuming it to be very hot, Ab Jaan singed his fingers when he touched the shutter....
View ArticleTestimony
soap-woar! soap-woar! soap-woar! Koap-woar! Koap-woar! Koap-woar! Hund-woar! Hund-woar! Hund-woar! It’s barely 7AM but Batmaloo bus stand has burst forth onto the day, its quotidian cacophonies...
View ArticlePlotistan
If I had not been in the company Kotha-e-Aval, the First Donkey, I swear by all the horrors hidden under the dark shroud that covers this land, I would be dead now. We were thrown through the air by...
View ArticleAnswer me
This is the translation of ‘Jawab Do’ – one of the 22 short stories written, originally in Urdu, by Ghulam Nabi Shahid in his book Eelan Jaari Hai (The declaration/announcement continues) Heads...
View ArticleSheer, 1961
The air was moist from yesterday’s rain and the sun rose reluctantly as if struggling for space, choked by the gushing wind. She sat there without much opinion about the weather, staring at the window...
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