Category Archives: Fiction

Yours, Theirs, and Ours (Part 1)

This is the first part of an ongoing series of short stories. 

Sharleen was a fine young girl of 18 – a very fine girl indeed. She was the girl next door with her raven hair, porcelain skin and brown limpid pools for eyes, she tried to fit in and be accepted, yet she never really did. She was different. She was lost, and her confusion could only be understood by some or none at all. That’s when she met him. He came and swept her of her feet. Her vision changed – she gained perspective and that’s where her journey began.
Sharleen was born and bred in Lahore, Punjab, Pakistan. Her family’s roots were planted deep in the city of gardens since centuries. Her conventional upbringing didn’t make it easy for her to be herself in the world they lived in. Her free spirit was entangled in a web of social norms and expectations and she yearned to get out of it. Her love for him changed him and his understanding of her depth transformed her.

She didn’t believe in conventional love stories and Disney-esque fairy tales, she was a realist who knew that being swept off her feet meant that she probably slipped on a wet floor and lost balance. Harib knew all her vulnerabilities and still loved her very much. His demons danced with hers to the rhythm of their love. 

Sharleen had a rough childhood, her father cheated on her mother and she faced the consequences. She saw her mother leave, her siblings and father in shambles. She followed her mother to her aunt’s house, clenching her dupatta in her tiny hands, wailing, calling her mom “Amaa! , Amaa! Please take me with you, don’t leave me!” Her mother stayed at the aunt’s for a month and a half and returned home, when her father said that he’s a changed man. The Pakistani society wouldn’t have accepted a divorcee at the time and it would’ve affected Sharleen and her sister; Lamees and brother; Azeem’s futures. 

Growing up in all the chaos had it’s effects on Sharleen….Harib would bear witness to it.

To be continued….

Disclaimer: This piece of writing and the one following are fictional, any resemblance to any person is purely coincidental. 


Her: Disposition

A dark night and an extinguished flame.
A dark night and an extinguished flame.

Muddy waters, mischief in the eyes
I wonder what these blindfolded eyes are searching for.
A lot to lose; no shackles to bind her
That rosy glaze in the eye bemuses her, the child’s cry amuses her – a split second only.
She thinks she knows herself not knowing herself at all, The reflection yells at her…
Muddy waters mischief in the eyes
I wonder what those distended pupils wish to discover.

Her: Full Disclosure

Am I a reflection or a mirage?
Image by: Google

Sometimes, your thoughts are so loud that you can’t hear anything above them. It’s almost like having earplugs in your ears. You block everything out for some time and just listen to the voices in your head. The world outside seems too harsh, too crude. There are times when you get so self-occupied that you don’t even notice that someone is addressing you.  I suppose this is what they call being “absent-minded” or “aloof”.

Lately I’ve been in this state of mind, I wonder why though. I just can’t seem to get out of it. I dive too deep. I get caught in the labyrinth of complexities – the complexities of life. Some might deem me as somebody who over thinks everything or is probably too sensitive for her own good, but that’s just a generalization, and like all generalizations; its likely to be false. We all have good days and bad days, it’s a part of who we are, and I am all for objectivity; I don’t feel the need to pass unnecessary judgements on how an individual behaves, because quite honestly, I wasn’t brought into this world to evaluate people – That’s God’s job.

Needless to say, I disagree with the mere notion of presumptions, and since I oppose it, I don’t believe in being vulnerable to judgments passed by a few pounds of flesh and clots of blood. I feel that I’m free of this malaise, but I’m not. The prevailing, ugly and utterly bitter truth is that even if I choose not to consider myself to be at the place to pass unnecessary judgments, people will always assume that they have the right to judge me. It’s just how it is. It’s an age old story that has spun itself in circles; we all have had it happen to us.

As i think of all these seemingly “pseudo-intellectual” deep thoughts, a part of me tries to solve the Rubik’s cube that holds my true colors in its depth. I try hard to unravel the mysteries that lie within me, but I have to ask myself….Who am I? Am I the person I think I am? Do you know who it is? Who is the woman in the mirror? Is that a reflection or a mirage? Is it a drop in the ocean or an ocean in a single drop? Who is She? It’s Her. It’s You, It’s Me, It’s every woman….to be continued.