Category Archives: Prose
The Interrogation
I easily forget how blessed I am to live in Canada. How blessed I am to be able to actually be free to express myself. How blessed I am to never be treated like a criminal for doing charitable work or attending political rallies. How blessed I am that the word “Palestine” doesn’t illicit the same sort of suspicious glances and aggressive questions from those with authority.
The Interrogation
I easily forget how blessed I am to live in Canada. How blessed I am to be able to actually be free to express myself. How blessed I am to never be treated like a criminal for doing charitable work or attending political rallies. How blessed I am that the word “Palestine” doesn’t illicit the same sort of suspicious glances and aggressive questions from those with authority.
Immigration to the Corner
The American narrative is closely intertwined, irrevocably, with the narrative of The Immigrant. The foundation of this country has been built upon the backs and sustained through the efforts of The Immigrant – be it forced or voluntarily. And yet while the narrative and the contributions of The Immigrant – especially of The Immigrant of the past – have been celebrated, the ugliness that was a part of the experience and persists till this day is oft-ignored or, at best, given a simple superficial nod of acknowledgment. Cultivation of the fine arts, cuisine and of the economy is always at the forefront of the mainstream discourse on The Immigrant. The cultural jolts, the legal messes, the bureaucratic faults and the financial instability and uncertainty, however, are rarely…
Immigration to the Corner
The American narrative is closely intertwined, irrevocably, with the narrative of The Immigrant. The foundation of this country has been built upon the backs and sustained through the efforts of The Immigrant – be it forced or voluntarily. And yet while the narrative and the contributions of The Immigrant – especially of The Immigrant of the past – have been celebrated, the ugliness that was a part of the experience and persists till this day is oft-ignored or, at best, given a simple superficial nod of acknowledgment. Cultivation of the fine arts, cuisine and of the economy is always at the forefront of the mainstream discourse on The Immigrant. The cultural jolts, the legal messes, the bureaucratic faults and the financial instability and uncertainty, however, are rarely…
Wondering about Kashmir
There are many things that have become a part of me during the past 11 years since I last visited Pakistan, the country of my birth and origin. All memories. Every image, every sound remains as crisp as ever.
There was always an odd stillness in the air whenever the electricity would go out. A stillness which would be…
Wondering about Kashmir
There are many things that have become a part of me during the past 11 years since I last visited Pakistan, the country of my birth and origin. All memories. Every image, every sound remains as crisp as ever.
There was always an odd stillness in the air whenever the electricity would go out. A stillness which would be…
Rethinking and Re-Adjusting Focus
For as long as I can remember, my greatest academic insecurity has been my lack of focus. I have never been able to grab hold onto one particular subject and wholly specialize my knowledge within it. When music became some what of an integral part of my life during the high school years, as per the usual rebellion/reflection phase, my taste and knowledge flourished. I knew what I liked and why I liked it. I don’t mean to brag, but I really had superb taste because I was never discriminatory to genres and always used reason and logic, along with aural aesthetics, to make my case for listening to music ranging from the Dead Kennedys to Kenny Rogers to Iron Maiden to the Pussycat Dolls
Rethinking and Re-Adjusting Focus
For as long as I can remember, my greatest academic insecurity has been my lack of focus. I have never been able to grab hold onto one particular subject and wholly specialize my knowledge within it. When music became some what of an integral part of my life during the high school years, as per the usual rebellion/reflection phase, my taste and knowledge flourished. I knew what I liked and why I liked it. I don’t mean to brag, but I really had superb taste because I was never discriminatory to genres and always used reason and logic, along with aural aesthetics, to make my case for listening to music ranging from the Dead Kennedys to Kenny Rogers to Iron Maiden to the Pussycat Dolls
It’s Official: Every Woman, Regardless of Species, is Stubborn.
So, terrified of coming into actual contact with this other woman occupying my washroom, I grabbed a piece of paper and tried to get her to walk onto it, so I could move her elsewhere. Stubborn, she wouldn’t budge. And I wouldn’t try harder as I was terrified of her flying into my face. We were both clearly being irrational here.
It’s Official: Every Woman, Regardless of Species, is Stubborn.
So, terrified of coming into actual contact with this other woman occupying my washroom, I grabbed a piece of paper and tried to get her to walk onto it, so I could move her elsewhere. Stubborn, she wouldn’t budge. And I wouldn’t try harder as I was terrified of her flying into my face. We were both clearly being irrational here.
Tap, tap, tap
The most annoying sound known to man is the tapping of the fingers. I know this because I tend to tap my fingers on everything and anything I can possibly find. I like to see eyes twitch. Jaws clench. Hands fidget. Throats clear. People tell me to shut the fuck up. Sometimes I grow out my nails just to be more of a nuisance.
Tap, tap, tap
The most annoying sound known to man is the tapping of the fingers. I know this because I tend to tap my fingers on everything and anything I can possibly find. I like to see eyes twitch. Jaws clench. Hands fidget. Throats clear. People tell me to shut the fuck up. Sometimes I grow out my nails just to be more of a nuisance.
