A mountain pine in the plains. How did it come in this unfrequented alley? How does......
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Read MoreLove as resistance amid conflict in Kashmir’s tender stories....
Read MoreA short while ago, there was an activity I was part of: about fifteen or twenty......
Read MoreI make coffee before I put on my glasses and stand at the counter, squinting out......
Read MoreTake a deep ink-blue sky & a time-traveling paper-boat that’s lost its way; Fold the Sun,......
Read MoreI am sitting cross-legged on my own “qabar”. The tablecloth is a white dupatta,embroidered with moths.Around......
Read MoreInherited silence transformed into ritual, memory, and voice....
Read MoreShelves as tall as minarets. I walk through barefootthe tiles whisper in Urdu:“Kya tu waqai zinda......
Read MoreGrief folds into ritual, memory softens into myth....
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