Many people didn’t know what Pakistan was. Right after 9/11, they did…
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Isn’t that always the case? You plan for life to go a certain way, only for it to forge its own path…
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This ocean is not mine, I was born in another. I moved, learned, lived, cried and loved somewhere else…
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On the silted shores of that Kashmiri lake from my childhood - my shoes slowly ruining in the slush of snow, mud and plum blossoms - I stood beside the houseboat we were staying in (which once hosted Henry Kissinger). That was the month Indira Gandhi was voted out and my whole family got stuck in India.
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Your eyes watched me faithfully, fingers carefully following the dips and turns of my imperfect singing, matching the patchwork of words to the rhythm of music.
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Perhaps my sorry state tugged on this woman's strings of motherhood and allowed her to look upon me as just another uncomfortable human. There was a call to nurture and I allowed her to play mum for just the briefest of instances - so fast, if you weren't looking, you'd miss it.
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