Riffat Murtaza

” An accomplished mind is never a biased mind ”
(unknown)

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Going through my papers, I came across a letter post marked Queens NY, Nov 3 ,2003. It was hand written - beautiful hand writing - two pages - written on both sides, no name of the letter writer- full of references and quotes from my stories. It was sent to me by my publisher. The [...]

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It was raining last night.
The English say “it was raining cats and dogs”
Why cats and dogs? I have never seen any cats or dogs falling from the sky. I only see rain.
But it was raining hard - real hard and accompanying thunder was deafening. I was sitting in our family room, reading Hesse’s Novel, Sidhartha. [...]

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Going through my bookshelf, I came upon “The Voyage Out” Virginia Woolf’s first novel. I had bought this novel in 1983 at Victoria train station.
My sister’s Saudi friend Rabia was coming to London to spend a few days with her. This friendship had started in Lahore, Pakistan where both were doing MBBS in FJMC.  This [...]

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Why a heavy heart
no flicker of a smile on silent lips
Curled fingers grasping air
Air
Let out the sound
Don’t hold it tight,
so tight.
Been long denied hopes
Been long let go desires
Push the wall
Breathe -

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Coming back from Lahore, he handed me a slip of paper. “you don’t have to read it now but it might come handy when you are writing a story”  I looked at the folded piece of paper and then looked at him. He was already looking out the window where the ever changing scenery was [...]

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I cup my hands
and stand before you.
The Deity you are holding in your heart is not me, nor mine.
And yet,
I stand before you and cup my hands.
Come closer,
do not stand across me,
the waning light is coming between us, robbing the moments,
scaling the time.
Come closer, face to face
one more time.

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Do not say a word
be still.
I am the echo of the centuries past,
when Vishnu whispered,
Be still -
Receive love.

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When I am with you, I am your lofty sky, your placid sea.
You are anchored reality,
I am too created in this occupied body.
I am nothing but a mirror in your palm, reflecting the play of your fingers.
I am a beggar who has received the silver grace of Salah - al Din
which cools my constricted heart [...]

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Today at 10: 17 in the morning I set him free.
I will come back to this later but first I would like to talk about Ms. Buksh.
I am sure she is not alive.
What a horrible thing to say about somebody; but I assure you I didn’t say that with malice. She was my professor and [...]

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