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Her Radiant Smile
The sun had just set in leaving a pink hue to the sky. I was walking through a narrow, gloomy street zig-zagging through a slummy neighborhood of Rawalpindi and loving the absolute stillness and quiet that falls there with the twilight. It was then that I came across that little girl standing beside the ice-cream
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Winterwards…
Few days back on a morning run, as I picked up the pace and gasped out a long breath, a cloud of smoke spread out in front of me making strange patterns. “So, we have finally reached the precipice of the festive season.” I thought to myself. Very soon, staying up till late night with
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The Childhood’s December
Yes, I remember that childhood’s December. When in shivering setting evenings, sunshine would crawl down the back-yard wall. The aroma of burning coal, and on my rashed cheeks the frozen tear-drops making lines. Seeing the freezing fog of clouds Mother would call us standing in the door and we would all rush to our homes,
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A Walk Down The Memory Lane
The hot summer of Islamabad has become pleasant with a recent downpour, also the harbinger of the onset of a much-longed-for monsoon. Being alone in the hostel, far away from home and attending a not-so-important-but-still-a-good-excuse-to-stay-away-when-things-are-not-that-good-at-home workshop, in an extremely hot weather backed up by frequent power-outs is as uncool as it sounds. Anyway, with the
Eastern Vagabond
Essays on travel, cities, memory, and the unnoticed textures of the world.