My mother used to make these; I do this when I miss her.
Going for the whole day to sit at a desk and coming back after dark, it’s not really very fulfilling. It seemed fascinating when we graduated but it doesn’t anymore.
“I may be committing a blasphemy here,” she said and then paused for a while as if reconsidering her choice of words.
There are things that are only being said in the regional languages. There are things that could only be written by a regional writer.
I didn’t really like the 3G coverage maps provided by the telecom operators, so I created one.
I had just talked to the embassy and had the flight reservation page open when the the phone rang.
When people ask why do I travel in Punjab, I don’t always have a clear answer because it’s difficult to explain and I fear that people won’t get it.
‘Too bad, I can only be poetic in this state,’ I smiled and then read this verse of Baba Farid’s: Main bhulawa pagg da matt maili ho jaaye/ Gehla rooh na jaan-ee sirr bhi mitti khaaye.
“Wait, what am I asking, you don’t plan your trips, you just leave, just like that,” she said.
My father and I were talking about his recent trip to Indian Punjab when I asked him if he spoke to the people there in Punjabi.
“Since when have you been running this tandoor?” I ask the woman who owns and operates this tandoor that provides me with rotian for lunch and dinner here in Pakpattan.
“Was there a tree in the house?” she asked. “Yes, there in fact was one. And it used to cry.”
She looked at me as if I was indulging in poetry.