The tales are timeless treasures
to read!
Once again, Mehreen Ahmed’s prowess in weaving proficient, literary narratives to convey her distinctive creativity and imagination, is affirmed in this anthology of short tales.
The core-theme of the stories revolves around the intriguing intricacies of love as expressed in various phases of love found, love lost and love found again.
What makes it very interesting to read is Mehreen's exceptional creativity in storytelling is expressed in boundless, symbolic and timeless ways. The tales of love are expressed in mythical, legendary, periodical, spatial and even how love unfolds and forms in the current times of online, cyber age.
No wonder some of the tales included in this anthology won awards and recognition. The author I am sure put a lot of time polishing the tales, thus the become timeless treasures to read!
An extract from the book
Sensible Shoes
I sat here, like a loyal friend, by her floor bed. Waiting for my owner, Samira Khan, to wake up. She did in a while. I saw her frowning and looking groggy. Laying on her pillow, she reached out for a wooden box which held her medication. Last night, like every other night, she’d filled up her small pitcher and placed it beside her bed. She took out a pill blister pack, pinched one out, and popped it into her mouth. She swallowed hard with some water from the pitcher. With a sigh of relief, she lay back on the pillow. She looked vaguely at a pair of pants hanging from a hook on the bedroom door—not hers. The morning was dull and dreary with deep, hanging clouds. She pushed and rolled herself out.
A vegetable vendor was shouting on the street. Just as well, I also heard his croaky voice and readied myself. Samira was going to run downstairs. He always came along with his cart at this time of the day. My owner slid her feet and rested them roughly upon my tongue. She checked her vegetable basket, and decided to buy some potatoes and green papaya from him. She craned her neck through the window and told him to pack her one kilo of potatoes and one medium sized papaya. Quickly, she picked up her purse and climbed down the stairs. On the street, the vendor had wrapped her potatoes and green papaya in an old, crumpled newspaper sheet. Samira opened her purse and gave him the money for a kilo of potato and a green papaya. The vendor took the notes with a polite smile, but said that the price had gone up because of inflation.
“Since when?” Samira asked.
I listened.
