Feline
The cat scrapes the ledge. Claws get blunted. No mark on the concrete.
The cat meows. A baby’s cry. New mothers go looking in cribs.
The cat runs after a ball of wool. It unspools. Winter will be cold.
The cat watches through green eyes. Spring leaves fall. Eyes turn into autumn.
The cat has stripes. Mistaken for a little tiger. Lives with shadows of the cage bars.
She writes with anguish and pessimism, a journey into hearts of darkness with no light at the end of that distorted prism, mainly because as she astutely observes, “every few years Pakistan writes a new fiction” to keep the embers alive. ”
—India Today
About Farzana
To be categorised is near-death. It would be nice to say that one is a literary vagabond, but it just does not convey fully the sense of rootlessness and ruthlessness one strives for constantly.
Have written opinion pieces, feature articles and interviews for...
Connections
Farzana’s Favorite Books
Every writer, besides the ones I have listed, who has had something to convey that leaves me with the taste of bitter chocolate...that I like.
...got me thinking, again!
Dear Farzana,
Identity, emotions stealthily unfurl, rattling time's wage.
Got me thinking, again! Thank you.
~Lynn
Thank you, Lynn. Sometimes,
Thank you, Lynn. Sometimes, one starts with a mundane sound/sight and it leads us to delve deeper.
~F