Those Were Times Spent Well

Those Were Times Spent Well

Evenings are the epitome of emotional transition. When the sun is finally setting on a long summer day, and when hues of orange, pink and gold are playing hide and seek, it usually so happens that a flood of memories and melancholia befalls the mind: the free mind....

Glass Bottles & Vapors of Childhood

Glass Bottles & Vapors of Childhood

When I was eight years old, I loved tagging along with my brother and cousin and walking, sometimes skipping, to the little cornerstore by the local neighborhood mosque. It was a five minute walk but thinking back now, the hot summer afternoons would melt away the...

The Year 1999

The Year 1999

the year 1999. what is it about sepia hues and motherland’s mountains that wring the insides of my heart and call my name? what is it about this portrait of my childhood that forms a summation of the ‘90s…a summation so profound, it leaves me weeping for the innocence...

The Storyteller

The Storyteller

"When spring-time flushes the desert grass, Our caravan winds through the Khyber Pass. Lean are the camels but fat the frails, Lighter the purses but heavy the bales! As the snowbound trade of the North comes down, To the market square of Peshawar town." - Rudyard...

And It Bears Witness

And It Bears Witness

and he toils, ever so, ever yet. this is man. these men. they exist or they exist not—one knows not. and the place still exists, ever so, ever yet. just shinier, polluted, and a little less clean. but it exists. and the earth bears witness to the weight of those...

The Ages Around Instants

The Ages Around Instants

During my depressive, post-1984-reading phase, I was helplessly sour at everything. I yelled at my little brother and pictured O’Brien’s nasty grin every time I chased pointless debates with my older brother. It all felt so natural and good, it kind of creeped me out....

The Red, White, Blue, Brick and Stone of Peshawar City

The Red, White, Blue, Brick and Stone of Peshawar City

Chipped blue paint. Old red bricks. Remnants of the past. This old man. This man clad in white smiles under the tangle of wires through which sparks buzz as the copper tries to catch up to the new world. A new world, nestled within which are traces of the ancient....

True Liberty

True Liberty

“You’re encased in a disastrous matrix of fear and loathing. You’re just a function. You’re just a function of the universe. You think you’re free. You have no more freedom than a cell on your body. The universe isn’t a democracy. It’s a monarchy. You’re just a...