Daddy would personally supervise when mashi, the old maid who stayed with us to take care of the household, oiled my thick hair every Sunday morning. Sundays were special days. Daddy would not allow mashi to enter the kitchen; he took great care to cook all the dishes I loved.
The night’s a complete washout/
The eyes can’t hold the ocean/Flooding the parched soil/And does its own thing/with the mascara, the eyeliner
All of a sudden, two deer came out of the forest – one bold buck and one proud doe, still wearing their ‘winter coats’. Slowly they walked up close to the deck, casually glanced at Diya through the glass patio door and then looked up at the sky.
Shukria rose from the floor next to the wash basin with a slight grunt as her daughter, her partner in running this household of boys rapidly becoming men, poured a final cup of clean water over each of the children – so engaged in their noisy doings that they barely noticed.
A pale yellow light, stirring dust motes/Fragrant, playful, brushes across my face/The air cooler, brighter, rain drop fresh/Cobwebs quivering, released from dark corners
When my daughter was still in elementary school and lived under the same roof with me, she gave me a letter. She laid it on my desk carefully and conspicuously, without putting it inside an envelope like she always did.
Mr. James and I were to start for Germany in about a week. The exact day depended on business. Mr. John came to Poland Street (where I was staying in the house), to pass that week with Mr. James. But, he said to his brother on the second day, ‘I don’t feel very well, James…
The one who sets in motion strange, impossible/Works, that once begun/
will stretch forth into space and time,/towards a history yet unborn,
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