Today dad drove me on his old bike in the old streets of Karachi.... In the dark of the night when traffic was slow and the moon almost full, dad increased the speed on the bike. I clutched tight and shouted a big woohoo! and he laughed a high-pitched young laugh. The moment converted into the streets of my hometown when my little...

Read More...

The day at noonThe sun may be sharpThe walk may be longThe steps might be harderThe sand could slow us downThe wind could blind usThe heat would try to grab usThe hopes might fall a littleOur shoes may come untiedOur breath exhaustedOur energy beatenOur feets with blistersBut...We will still go onBecuause oh Woman, YOU DIDYou faced a lot when we were not watchingyou...

Read More...

In the outskirts of Hyderabad, Pakistan right before when you enter the modest city via the highway from Karachi, a dirt road leads to a small rural community called Khuda Ki Basti (God's Community), I spent my childhood days there when I was not running around in the mountains of Balochistan. This weekend I went back to give-back, to see those streets, touch...

Read More...