The banquet hall Kanwal stood in was reminiscent of every desi wedding and fundraiser she had ever attended. Crisp white linen at right angles, expectant silver chafing dishes along a buffet table, winking LED crystal chandeliers.
“Most mothers worry about their children being out too late partying,” Kanwal’s mother’s voice rang through her tiny apartment.
Kanwal contemplated who deserved a box of biryani to the face more; the tourists in front of her, or the seagulls above. Arms aching and out of breath, she tried to overtake the group of teenagers meandering between stalls of primrose, honey and cheese.
Your pain is not for appraisal.
You do not need to build a statue carved from sinew and flesh,
