She was no Beatrix. (part thirteen)

She was sitting out on the verandah. She had noticed him coming up the driveway. He had grown paler, weaker. “How are you, Fouzia?” “Come, have a seat. Have tea.” He sat beside her quietly. “Marry me.” She looked at him. “Pagal ho.” She poured him some tea. “Cracker?” “I’m not asking anything. I don’t … Continue reading »

She was no Beatrix. (part twelve)

There was laughter that night. After so, so long. She had agreed to go with Maria one impulsive weekend. Maria was shocked that she didn’t need an hour of coaxing. Fouzia just got up and said she was going to get ready in about twenty minutes. She offered no explanation. Wore a breathtaking black dress … Continue reading »

She was no Beatrix. (part eleven)

“My God, you must have over a hundred emails from this guy … what, Raza? Who is he?” Maria was leaning over her shoulder. “No one.” She turned around. “Are you going out somewhere?” she noticed the brilliant red lipstick shining on Maria’s face. “Yeah, it’s a weekend. Gonna go out for drinks with my … Continue reading »

She was no Beatrix. (part ten)

“Traveling for fun?” She looked up. “Sorry?” “Traveling for fun, beti?” the kindly old uncle was smiling, looking at her from the top of his glasses. “Uh. Yes. Visiting friends.” “Ah, my daughter is there. I’m going to visit my daughter. She’s married, has three kids. Lives in Manchester. Where are your friends?” “Birmingham.” “That’s … Continue reading »

She was no Beatrix. (part nine)

Raza didn’t ask her why she threw away her old number. That was something that felt the best about him. He didn’t push, hound or ask her anything that she didn’t feel comfortable with. Apart from that one lunch, they had never talked about Adeel. She knew he would have listened if she told him … Continue reading »

She was no Beatrix. (part eight)

“This is Qaiser Apa. Salam alaikum, Qaiser Apa. Meet Fouzia.” She nodded primly and let an overgrown matron squeeze her chin and cheeks. “Chashm e baddoor, Raza Mian. What a lovely girl.” “She’s one of the few women in my family I actually like,” Raza muttered to her under his breath. “One of the few … Continue reading »

She was no Beatrix. (part seven)

Where do you go to pick up pieces of yourself, where do you run to become someone else? Whatever that place was, whatever the answer was, there certainly wasn’t a shortcut to healing. Raza Waheed was talking at an incredibly fast pace and she was doodling in her notebook. Goddamn interns. Always talking too much … Continue reading »

Bruno Sahab. Ye kia baat hui?

(We interrupt our regular programming to bring you something that MUST go out of my head before I spontaneously combust.) Not only is Bruno Mars ruining every woman’s concept of a macho man, of a metrosexual man, of a normal man, he is also responsible for bringing ideas into girls’ heads that have no semblance … Continue reading »

She was no Beatrix. (part six)

It was so very strange that three people from the same age group, discussing the same problem could be so silent for the past half hour. She somehow considered this as the strangest fact of the day. Not the initial yelling match between her brother, Adil, and Adeel. Not the persistent furtive opening-and-shutting of the … Continue reading »

She was no Beatrix. (part five)

Adeel sent her home one day, on the premise that he would come to pick her up after a few days. He had some business trips to take care of and it would be better for Fouzia and Hina, their 4-month-old daughter, to stay at her parents’ house for a few days. Adeel said he … Continue reading »