Memoir & Fiction
این حرف تو نبود حاجی. حرف کربلایی حسین بود. وقتی آمده بودید و گفته بودید…
شش انگشتی مرد داخل قاب عکس می خندد. سیگار زیر لب گذاشته است. دودش را…
I arrive at Beos Station in the early hours of the morning. Heading to the…
همان لحظهای که سرم را از روی لیست برداشتم، نگاه های مان تلاقی کرد. بدنم…
با صدای مردی که می پرسد، کینو کیلوی چند است؟ قلم را لای کتابچه گذاشته و آن را می بندد. کتابچه را زیر کراچی چوبی اش می گذارد. سر بلند می کند. به مردی که رو به رویش آن طرف کراچی ایستاده است، نگاه می کند
He shook his head again and said: “Let’s get to work soon. Today the market is busier. At least I should be near my karachi before praying time!” All three walked in the bustle of the market. They worked separately as usual. In that hustle and bustle, each of them placed himself among the people. On Fridays, their job was to steal what was inside the pockets of the rich people.
I arrive at Beos Station in the early hours of the morning. Heading to the…
Kapan terakhir kali kau bertemu Abdul-Hakeem Irshad?
When was the last time you saw Abdul-Hakeem Irshad?
Bayangkan seorang anak perempuan sebatang kara hidup menggelandang di jalanan, di tengah-tengah negeri yang tercabik oleh perang saudara tanpa akhir. Ia tidak pernah tahu apakah dapat makan esok hari, apalagi nasib yang akan menimpanya nanti.
Begini ceritanya.
Tomorrow will be a new beginning. A beginning for a revolution, a beginning for new…
Yesterday afternoon, I was at an English language center. I was studying in the class when I received a call from my elder brother. My brother was confused, he was in a hurry. He said, “Go to Dasht-e Barchi Complex Hospital, Sabira is in the hospital.”
We lived inside a dead-end alley. It was surrounded by wood-cutting, glass-cutting, and shoemaking workshops. The alley was always ringing with the noise of various tools, from the sound of hammering to make shoe molds to the sound of cutting wood and, occasionally, of breaking glass.
On the third day, the father of Habibullah, Haji Nazer, grew tired of sitting in front of the door of Karbalaei Reza’s house. He firmly pounded on the door with his fist. The mother of the house opened the entrance to the courtyard. Haji Nazer said “if I don’t take a girl from this house, Habibullah will not allow me to come home.”
I stand beside my bedroom window overlooking the quiet neighborhood. There are no children playing on the street. The neat brick condo houses built in municipal order make the alleys less busier for the drivers and walkers to cross. I stand still, watching as men and women come out of their houses one by one, open their garages and, after a few minutes of warming their vehicles’ engines, drive off to their workplaces.
The red curtain made the room’s shade tangerine, it was burning like an engine. I was laying on the blue sheets of the bed, aware of every inch of the sheet touching my body …
On a beautiful sunny day, someone came to her and promised her better living conditions. She believed that stranger’s words. That person brought her to a family she thought would have a better state of life, but she immediately found out that they wanted her to be a maid in the house.
It was almost ten-thirty when we started the class. I said: “Hello, how are you all?”
But I did not receive any answer.
I repeated my sentence for the second time.
I waited for a few seconds, but still no one answered.
That night a strange feeling came to me, I was crying all the time like a child who lost her mother. I checked my phone, I saw the news that was announcing that they still did not approach Mazar Sharif and Kabul, so we still can have hope. That day I kept the phone in my hand and never put it anywhere. I was checking the news every second. I was distracted and could not concentrate. I forgot to eat and drink. I forgot everything. I was praying in every way that I could for my country.
A man yelled at his companion to carry a basket of veggies while tying his bandana around his head. Two women argued over which mango had a sweeter taste. A child ran to his father happily after finding the lettuce he was looking for. I pass the stores silently, staring at the loud market like a ghost
“My first child was a girl! The second was a girl! The third was a girl! You gave me six girls. You are trying to destroy my generation.” Khaled rebuked while examining all angles of the yard to find another reason for continuing the argument. Suddenly he saw Fatima and grabbed her hand with his heavy muscle’s ones while she wanted to stealthily pass the one meter diameter space behind Khaled to enter the kitchen. “I have enough of your type in my house, tiny siya sar! Go to your house, otherwise I would know what to do with you and your Mursal.”
Inside the truck, there was an old woman she wears althawb. The dress of the old woman was blue, a bit torn and dirty. This woman was neither tall nor short. Her body was weak. Maybe she had not eaten for a long time. Her skin was light black. She has big eyes that are not in the right position. Everyone can see the fear in her eyes …
With difficulty, I secure the large scarf which covers my head, and in spite of all my efforts, it still doesn’t stand right. I grow restless and careless and continue on with the scarf. The streets of Quetta are narrow and congested, especially at noon when everyone is busy in one way or another.
The butchers, smoking cigarettes, use the meat as an ashtray. The cats near the butchers…
On the third day, the father of Habibullah, Haji Nazer, grew tired of sitting in front of the door of Karbalaei Reza’s house. He firmly pounded on the door with his fist. The mother of the house opened the entrance to the courtyard. Haji Nazer said “if I don’t take a girl from this house, Habibullah will not allow me to come home.”
I stand beside my bedroom window overlooking the quiet neighborhood. There are no children playing on the street. The neat brick condo houses built in municipal order make the alleys less busier for the drivers and walkers to cross. I stand still, watching as men and women come out of their houses one by one, open their garages and, after a few minutes of warming their vehicles’ engines, drive off to their workplaces.
