The Bookish Hijabi Writes

Recap: "Wait." I gasped. "Is this a real fight?" "Yes." His chest heaved. Hair clung to his sweat-soaked brow. Fury coiled in his eyes like serpents.  There was no trace of the boy who used to bandage my knees after our lathi duels. He hissed, "I want to kill you, Ramal." For a second, I couldn't breathe.  | Episode 4 | • C/W : Slight mention of abuse in Ramal's past •   "Why?" I whispered. "Why do you hate me so much, Adn? The loathing in his face crushed my heart into pulp. "You ran away. Left us. You tainted our izzat. Our ghairat." His fists clenched—then he threw the lathi aside. Advanced with bare hands. "You betrayed me." I raised a trembling hand as I pushed myself up. "I didn’t." "You did!" he yelled. "I used to be proud of you. Of your intelligence. Your modesty. Your haya. I used to boast: my sister is the most pakdaman in the village. And you... you became a wh—"...

  Episode 3 Of Wolves and Lathis “Where’s Iman Sahab?” That was my first question as I sat at the dining table. “He ate earlier,” Adn said. “Meaning?” I folded my arms. “Meaning, I made him eat earlier so he wouldn’t have to sit with us.” “Sahi kiya. We are not going to admit be-sharmi,” Abba said, looking up from his plate of biryani for the first time. My vision blurred at the sound of his voice. Donning a turban and pathani suit, yet never as intimidating as Taya, my Abba had once been an engineer — until Taya dragged him into this rotting feudal world. “If he’s my husband,” I said softly, “how is this be-sharmi, Abba?” “Stay in your limits, Ramal,” he ground his teeth, his mustache twitching from the force. “You’ve already troubled us enough. Our reputation. Our honor. Sab mitti mein mila diya tu ne.” “Then why invite me? Just to lecture me?” “Enough!” Taya entered. The air in the dining room thinned as he thundered in. “You’ll see why we invited you soon.” My legs turned to je...

  EPISODE -  2   "Home, sweet home." Adn glanced at me from the car mirror, his lips curled in a coy smile. I sniffed and stared out of the window. Plants of corn and wheat swayed in the fields, farmers and their wives carrying barley on their heads. Walking in single file. Kids with and without underwears laughing, playing in dust. Their limbs a rich shade of bronze and sunshine. It was all too familiar. I sniffed again. "Caught a cold, Ram?" Iman said lightly from the passenger seat, but his eyes betrayed how closely he was watching me. I tried to smile. "Yes." He tossed his handkerchief at me with a flair and let out a dramatic sigh. "Take care. You get hideous when you catch cold." Adn coughed. My gaze turned to his back. "What?" I asked. "Our family is a bit miffed about you, Iman. You may have to.. keep a bit distance from Ramal." Iman stole a look back at me, like a scolded child, his eyebrow rose asking — really ? I ...

 IZZAT: THE NAME OF MY CAGE Born with wings. Buried in silence. A thriller. A tragedy. A family horror. I stopped dead in my tracks. A choked sound escaped my lips. “You shouldn’t be here!” He turned. A smile twisted his features, baring his teeth and making his dragon tattoo seem alive. “Shouldn’t I?” he whispered. “I’ve found you. Finally .” A shudder ran down my spine. Yet I puffed my chest. “You can’t. You were the one who-” “-who had nearly died while chasing you, yes? Well, unlucky for you, I’m not dead.” “Adn!” I hissed.  “Don’t ever say that again.” From my peripheral vision, I spotted a dupatta peeking behind the curtain of our neighbour’s house. My jaw twitched. Khansaa . Always yearning for gossip material. Adn coughed in front of me. “Won’t you invite me for tea? Sister, dear.” From his dark, thick lips, the word sister sounded like a cuss word. “Come.” I tightened my fist, pushed him aside, and fumbled through my purse for the key. Adn loomed behind me. His eyes b...