Writing Prompt: Everybody on Earth has a tree that represents them. Once that tree dies, that person dies too. You work as a lumberjack.  Do you keep your job? Yeesh…. ummm….well.. no? Well if I’m being given a choice here, then no. I don’t want to carry the burden of death on my shoulders. It…

The Voices of Despair

This is a recount of my father during the Liberation War. It was about the time he became separated from his family when Pakistani soldiers stormed his village and they were forced to leave everything and flee for their lives.

The Book Thief

I picked the book up as I waited for the student I agreed to tutor at the library. The Book Thief, I whispered to myself. It sounded interesting. Another Holocaust book. For some reason, I like reading books about the Holocaust. They are sad and heartbreaking but they also provide another side to the story. Last…

“If one must have gone, why not I? Why may I not rest me from this restlessness and sleep from this wide waking? Was not the world’s alembic, Time, in his young hands, and is not my time waning? Are there so many workers in the vineyard that the fair promise of this little body…

 “Why do leaves commit suicide when they feel yellow?” -Pablo Neruda, Book of Questions

Remembering the Holocaust

Never shall I forget the little faces of the children, whose bodies I saw turned into wreaths of smoke beneath a silent blue sky. Never shall I forget those flames which consumed my faith forever…Never shall I forget those moments that murdered my God and my soul and turned my dreams to dust…Never. — Elie…

She Weaves Me A Casket

Weaving, etching meanings without words. Weaving memories, reaping love; I mimic her tune. Weaving magic. Weaving beauty, from the inside out. She beckons me to watch with her, the jubilant sun, waking up from its slumber. Beckoning me, and I watch with her, everyday, a routine. I always find her there, standing, wishing the sun…

Lucidity

I had a dream today. No. Not a dream. I was awake and lying in bed. I was remembering the time dadi died. How the news of her death reached my parents’ ears. It’s strange, I never think about how the news of her death came. I know how she died and when she died….