June 2019.London 4:30 am. There was this constant banging that wasn't going away. Was it inside my head or outside.Wearily I opened my eyes.It was still dark.“Open up! It's the police!”“Police! Open up!!”I smiled to myself. Of all the days they had to come today. … Continue reading Bhai.
Author: zarminaswords
Fascinated by human behavior,mind,dogs and cats.
Blizzard:
Your child’s diagnoses changes everything. You are now not a mother but a ‘Special Kids” mother. In a flash your life is slashed away from the rest of moms you know. You don’t like the label ‘disabled” or “Special” but now they define your kid. … Continue reading Blizzard:
The Slow Metamorphosis
Describe yourself in one word, the interviewer asks. His eyes, unbroken oceans of blues. The ignorance of first world innocence and a coddled life shining through. No storms of witnessing murders, bombings, corruption, lack of security here, just some few half hearted squalls here and … Continue reading The Slow Metamorphosis
The Recidivist
They bring you in, tied up in ropes,singing and cursing at the world. When you finally break free of all your earthly chains,when your mind finally manages to escape,why is it then they realize that you can't be free, Icarus. The injections,the medications. ECT for … Continue reading The Recidivist
Encounter
Encounter To that veteran sitting on one of the million side walksof New York at 9pm on a blustery November night. Lying on a sleeping bag that can hardly prevent the iciness of the groundfrom sliding into your spine. Wearing a huge overcoat and a … Continue reading Encounter
Green Apples
Patient Number 11: There is this empty house at the end of my lane. When I moved into the neighborhood with my husband four years ago, I often wondered who lived inside while walking back from our area’s park. It was supposed to be empty … Continue reading Green Apples
Flamenco Chicken.
I tried being a soft bed for you to lie on,to enter without complaints. To drain your grungy vile on my clean flowery sheets. I tried being the round tiny chapati made by finest of atta (flour) all hot and puffed like your egoto eat … Continue reading Flamenco Chicken.
𝐈’𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞.
My life is full of tiny wins that don't amount to anything in the world we live in. A word my autistic son says for the first time. or the way my younger son hugs me tight, after seeing the tears in my eyes. But … Continue reading 𝐈’𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞.
Laundry at 2 am.
My heart was not meantto be a cauldron that carries acidic sorrow nor grief. It was made for reading secondhand booksbought from dingy, back alley shops where books are sometimes sold by their weight by tech obsessed grandchildrenof some poor soul who died two days agowith … Continue reading Laundry at 2 am.
Bed Number 21.
Part 1: Admission: There were flies everywhere. On the metal table and near the nurse’s station where they sat having pakoras and tea. Throwing some morsels to a cat who had given birth in one of the filing cabinets with the blessings of the head … Continue reading Bed Number 21.
Zarmina's Words 