ہم کہانیوں کے متلاشی جانے کس جُستجو کی تِشنگی بُجھانے کے سفر پہ ہیں یہ تو نہیں معلوم ، لیکن ہماری تلاش ہمیں نئی کہانیوں کے رستے ضرور ڈال دیتی ہے۔ اُن راستوں پہ ہم سب کُچھ سمیٹتے ہیں، جذبات کی آڑ میں سب مِلتا ہے: مُحبت، نفرت، دھوکا، منافقت، حق، اور شاید مزید حق… Read More کہانیوں کے متلاشی
(my collaboration with Lavanya Arora from India) Why does home have to be a place (or several), or even “that feeling”, or a person (or several)? Why does home have to be anything? For most of my adult life, I haven’t felt any sense of belongingness, so I have tried to search for it everywhere.… Read More A Kind Of Home.
This is a story of a girl named Zainab and through this story, I want her to be remembered because no one else would keep her memory otherwise. I am sorry that your story shall be remembered only after your death, I wish I was able to do anything more than writing about it. As the… Read More When The Death Took Its Toll
Edited by: Nikhil Joseph Art according to me remains subjective to one’s experiences, thought the process and how they go about expressing the same. It can be a handwritten letter, it can be an illustration, it can be an experience worth sharing. But always remember art is an ever-evolving medium, which breaks through religious boundaries,… Read More What Art Means to Me
Well, I miss Coke Studio when Rohail Hyatt used to produce it, the music in those days had its rawness, the kind of raw music you can relate to but well, the present one has its own perks and now that the season has ended I have a favourites list from this season. I have… Read More Coke Studio Favourites
I am in constant shifting phase these days, not very sure about when this is going to end. But mostly I like to put the blame on the phase of my life that I am presently in. but this phase has left a vacuum in me, a vacuum not entirely negative but something that always… Read More A heart shaped Vacuum.
Because it was summer once And the air was full of mosquitoes We shut our windows. Because it was winter once And there was fog in the air We shut them again. We kept shutting our windows Every summer and every winter Until we forgot the memory of open windows. We forgot that there were… Read More And we keep our windows shut