Fiction

The mourning

The room was tepid. He was in the midst of the horde. His mother was singing praises of him. Other women joined the chorus. They sang in unison. Encircled by a swarm of people, he reclined silent. I heard a girl saying, "Let me...

Blue Collar

In 124 days, I worked for just 17. Rest of 107 days were black for me, because I am a blue-collar worker. A day without work means no pay. I will not die, but half empty stomach can turn one into an insomniac. Blue-collar workers...

“How I Was Chased And Then Killed With Pellets” – Story of Nasir Shafi

Watch Video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UgNGG_PwxRU My name is Nasir Shafi; my mother calls me Moomin; I am 11 years old. One evening, I was leaving our local masjid towards my home when I saw hundreds of men in uniform charging towards us; there was utter chaos. I...

I Was Killed Soon After My Marriage In Kashmir

I tasted the salty tears on her lips when she kissed me the last time. We were neighbours. Born in the same year. Played together in the same park. Went to the same school. Same college. Same university. Soon after completing our university, we got married....

Afzal Zinda Hai

Afzal Guru
I was stealing glances on my wristwatch. Outside my friends were waiting. They were out with Kites and spools. I could figure out signals made in many codes by my friend’s; urging me to emerge. But my father was staying at home...

I Was Four Month’s Pregnant When They Killed Him

Colourful Colourless Mornings What is the colour of mornings? All hues in a passing. Red like his blood-drenched clothes. Pale like his lifeless face. Black like the smoke of people gathering around. Wailing. Shouting. Raging. Green like the flag raised on his adeau. Oh, it burns...

Diary Of A Pellet Victim Who Lost Her Vision

Cricket’s making their usual sounds, squirrels finding ways to escape, the sun below the line of shining. It is again so beautiful to remind humans that they are the blessed one. Supermans, as everybody stares at the hole without blinking. The six gaps from...

A Mouthful Of Silence

I am ritually impure. Before Fajr breaks in I should ablute. It's Friday, that makes it doubly rewarding. Or punishing? I don't know. I've spent this night reading a pick from my priced collection of books on literature and Kashmir. Somebody is already up downstairs....

A Rendezvous In The Troubled Land – Kashmir

"All the boys of our village are deciding to stage protests at the main Chowk in the evening", said Fatima Aunty beginning a daily routine of discussions about the “tehreek”. “Why should they not? It is our movement.” Rahim khan spoke with air of pride. “Khoday...

Dreadful Dusk

Dusk had fallen heavily over the frail film of the jaded river. Every wave had carried much filth today. Muck of imprudent figures and bitter quivering of human heart too had dumped aborted emotions. Venomous rattle and hoot of hypocrites on one hand and...

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