My grandmother had small hands and long, black thick hair. She wore a ribbon in her hair and bangles on her arms and once upon a time she was seemingly content, but worried. Always worried. Worry lay silently in her veins and sometimes shone in her eyes during the afternoon.
আবার দেখা হবে (Ābāra dēkhā habē – We’ll see you again) My shashuri’s ma was set to leave for Bangladesh…
I scratch the edge of the pendant and admire the copper rust collecting under my nail beds.A testimony – that the dustings…
Those hot July days refuse to be forgottenAll those summers spent in Morocco seared in my head with the desert’s…
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