Hideout 

As a child I would run to the nearest tree to hide in the green branches. It was my safe refuge– my hideout. Years have passed, and now I won’t be able to climb any tree. Even if I could, I would be afraid of spoiling my clothes, getting them torn by the rough bark, getting cuts on my hands, getting insects’ bites, being bitten by spiders, or worse –getting my nails scraggly.

This brings me to a question why do we change so drastically as we grow up?

Now my nearest hideout is my room.

DAILY PROMPT

Hideout

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Glitter

Last month I was entrusted to sell a diamond ring on my son’s behalf. I went to one jeweler to find its current value. Not getting a satisfactory answer, I went to the jeweler who had sold it to us many years back. I had not kept its receipt, but I knew the original price. 

To my dismay the price was up only a little more. I didn’t have the time to make a round of more jewelers, so I exchanged it for another one.

I have found out that all which glitters doesn’t necessarily means more value. It might not be valuable at all. 

DAILY PROMPT

Glitter

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Blur

My eyes blur as they look at you

Hot tears fall down on your grave

Can you feel my presence here

Or you lie unmoved by my tears

Evening draws near it will soon be dark

I have to leave, will soon depart

A year will pass before I come again

To visit you and see your grave

(Sheen-Febuary2017)

DAILY PROMPT

Blur

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Translate

My father had remarried— not to the girl, grandma had chosen, but to a widow with four children. Grandma got wind of it. There she was planning to get her niece wedded to father, and father had dashed all her hopes to the ground.

Unannounced she managed to reach Rawalpindi, where we lived,  from our ancestral home in the village. She rarely travelled, and the farthest she went from home was Charsadda. Father didn’t know where to hide from the fury of his mother, and he took refuge sitting in his car in the garage.

Stepmom spoke Urdu, and grandma could only talk in Pushto. Neither was making head, or tail of what they were telling each other. Unfortunately grandma espied me as I came out of my room searching for God knows what. She took hold of my hand, and almost dragged me to sit between the two foes. It looked like I had to translate whatever they were saying to each other.

Grandma was saying, “why did you get married to my son? Couldn’t you stay on your own?”

Stepmom said she was having problems, and needed a husband to take care of things. Grandma was asking why her son? Couldn’t she get someone else?

This went for a while, and grandma started cursing. Poor me! I was frightened, fearing they might come to blows. Grandma was intelligent enough to know that I wasn’t exactly translating what she was saying. The moment had come for me to make a dash for my room, and bolt it from inside.

I don’t know what happened later after I left them. Grandma departed in the evening –sad, and disappointed to her home.

DAILY PROMPT

Translate

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Squat


Back in 2012 after an operation, my doctor told me never to squat. I can’t now, and had terrible times back in home country (I spent December, and January there), where Asian toilets are in profusion in public places. I dislike them with a vengeance. 

Recently on visits to Charsadda Courts for settling land matters, I would go without water, and food for hours on end, simply to avoid using a public toilet. I was miserable from thirst, and at the same time dreading kidneys failure. Hunger –one can bear but going without drinking water was torturous.  My son, and I would leave home at eight thirty in the morning, and till evening  I had a terrible time. One of my brother in law had a house there. I couldn’t go to his home either knowing all six bathrooms had Asian toilets. 

How can one use these messy creations? I fail to understand.

DAILY PROMPT

Squat

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Sound


After journeying back to Houston, the days before, and after were tiring. Mentally, and physically I was exhausted. I was trying to catch up on sleep. A few days back, feeling very tired and sleepy, eschewing evening meals, I asked him not to disturb me when he came back from his evening prayers in the mosque. I told him clearly if the light was off, it meant I was asleep, he should heat his meal himself, and no sounds please!

Enter son, and the first thing he bellowed, “Mom, what’s for dinner?” Getting no answer from me, he opened my bedroom’s door, turned on the light and asked, “Why are you sleeping at this time?”

Tell me what should I have said? 

Feeling peevish, I got up from bed groggily. I curtailed my annoyance at his waking me. I put the supper on the table, and called him. I asked him, “Did you listen to what I had told you– not to wake me?” 

“Sorry, I didn’t hear it. You can go to sleep now”.  

I could only grind my teeth in exasperation.

DAILY PROMPT

Sound

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