The Reflection In My Window Thanks. This is part of a series of short stories from my childhood experiences and was written in 2000.

This garden does not exist anymore - the house has long been demolised except in my memories. Grateful for your appreciation.

A Staircase Connecting Three Worlds Thanks for your appreciation and encouragement.

Late Afternoon at Masjid Wazir Khan Re: # 9
No, you are not wrong. I believe writing takes its own voice once it is public and people deduce from it what it represents to them. If you take it as the "anesthetic of familiarity" then that is a welcome perspective for me as a writer.

Late Afternoon at Masjid Wazir Khan Thanks for your comment. I am a Pakistani who was married to a Bangladeshi for many years. I now live in Pakistan and dont think I will ever go back to Bangladesh even though I love the land, the people and still speak the language. The years I spent there are an integral part of my memories and experiences. Speaking of racism, it is sad that it crosses people and borders - I felt intense racism from some Bangladeshis when I lived in Dhaka but it never stopped me from making friends with Bangaldeshis who are essentially vibrant, friendly and loving. There are still many Bangladeshis in Pakistan although their identities are muted- much like the Attendant. For me this was the link between the Bengali and the Mosque - between a rich, flourishing culture and its loss, between silence/mutedness and crass noise, between personal secrecy and public display (the little girl and the oil lamp/the quiet courtyard vs cheap glitzy shops) between going up and coming down and going round and round aimlessly (like the pigeons). The contrast was so striking that it had to be penned. Amar article porar junno onaik dhonnobad. Bhalo thaken!

Late Afternoon at Masjid Wazir Khan Re: # 1
Thanks for you appreciation.

Late Afternoon at Masjid Wazir Khan Re: # 3
Thanks. This article took a long time to take shape but once I started writing it, it came out in one go.