Gold-Rimmed Glasses

It was a summer of introductions and new concepts. My first summer in Pakistan. Everyone was talking about the heat and how uncomfortably hot it would be for us newcomers. Relatives flooded through the gates – unknown aunts and never-heard-about uncles, cousins who somehow shared a facial feature here and there – all crowding round in happiness, tight embraces and sloppy kisses, their faces shining with joy and love. An old friend of my grandma’s was sitting in the lounge chatting to my mother whilst little kids ran in...


Servant Thievery

She was dragged mercilessly to the balcony, clutching her black plastic trash bag close to her side as if her life depended on it. The dusty, mosquito-infested balcony was perhaps two feet wide, five feet long. She stared aimlessly into the crowded and polluted city of Dhaka, Bangladesh, a woman in her early twenties. The balcony door was slammed shut and locked. Tears rolled down her face as she tightened her scarf insecurely, her hands shaking. The little ones banged the balcony door, taunting and jeering. *** Earlier that...