She took extra time grooming herself that day, causing annoyance to her siblings who grew exhausted banging on the bathroom door. Bathed in the scents of ittar, hands and feet stained with henna and kohl smudged in her eyes, she then proceeded to dress in her best garments: a ferozi shalwar kameez with a white… Continue reading Day 21: A blind date
He's been standing outside for the past 15 minutes. He doesn't knock on the door. He doesn't know that I know.
The weathered hay stacks tremble ever so slightly. Night stirs and the day’s first light breaks through like the fingers of a lover, running his hands through the dark locks of his beloved.
Image credit: Klaus Pichler Join the October writing challenge *** Before anyone could follow, she hurried over to a particularly crowded corner of her bedroom. It wasn't that she felt worried about what she was hiding, more that she didn’t want her secret hiding places discovered by others. Anyone could walk in and catch her;… Continue reading Day 2: ‘Hunger’ a cautionary tale
It was the year of 1985, I remember how the fields sparkled with golden wheat. Bustling with the hubbub of anticipation, the bazaar was the congregation point of delegates from neighbouring villages. Most of them had travelled by foot. In those days, only a few could afford to board the embellished buses that sauntered coyly across… Continue reading The Devil’s party
Short story first published in issue 10 of Route 57, 2014: http://www.route57.group.shef.ac.uk/issue10/10fZoyaKubra.html