Zahra Hasan

Zahra Hasan

The author is a young poet with an affliction for hard rock music, coffee, and historical fiction. She is currently an A level student.

To my Karachi, the city of sin and believing

To Karachi, The one that I see, As I walk across the kachi mitti, Right next to the bustling streets. Walking amongst people, Each so different from each other and from me, But united by a common identity, a common home, Karachi. To the Karachi with pain, Hot, humid and sticky with lack of rain. Where the sidewalk is filled, With people who mill about – purposelessly. Wasting through their day, Hoping someone will have the money to pay, For a meal or two for their family, Maybe new clothes, maybe something sanitary. To the Karachi of the poor, of the hooker, of the whore. The one that’s unforgiving and harsh, Where with finding another job and ...

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Always remember

“What’s my name?” “My beti.” “But what is it, really?” “My pyaari beti.” “Do you remember me?” I can almost hear you reply – only vaguely.   I watch you every day, In that same seat that you always occupy – With the sun glinting off your bald head. I watch as first you give up your laughter, Then your listening, Then your talking, Then yourself.   As I sit across the room, And become heavier and stronger, I watch you become weaker and smaller. I watch your appetite shrink, And the only food you truly want Is kept away from you, near the sink. It’s meant to protect your health, To ensure you don’t get confusions or even possible delusions.   Delusions of ...

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