Author: Nuha Faiz

BA undergraduate. Teacher by profession, reader by birth and a writer by choice. I bond over anything well-written, aesthetics, food and cats.

Voice of an Expat. II

imageByNuha FaizNovember 13, 2018
Adding these spices one by one I’m recalling the effort you put On the messy yet beautiful days You taught me basic cooking, Ma. He’s at work and I’ve kept rice to boil, I can’t tell you I feel lonely but I am Remembering those days, I was obdurate

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Voice of an Expat

imageByNuha FaizOctober 27, 2018
The smell of boiling rice from the kitchen reminds me of you Ma, Now I’m recalling the times we sat together And how you served us lunch from the little you cooked. Coming home to this fancy apartment in the rain reminds me of our little house, You and I going around

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Appeasement

imageByNuha FaizOctober 1, 2018
            “You must either use all that money on things that are useful, or give it away to those who are in need”, I told Naveed that morning when we met at a Café near his house and that is how we got the notion of

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Night Kadé

imageByNuha FaizSeptember 30, 2018
Streets of Kalutara, Beautifully lit at 12.03AM— precise, Few shops opened to serve food, Travelers stopping by, to get their fill, for a smoke or rest.   There’s noise amidst serenity, Evil amidst calm. Little bokeh lights and laughter, Filling the cold dark air.

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Peacemaker

imageByNuha FaizSeptember 1, 2018
Rea Nelson turned eighteen that Autumn. No cakes, no parties, no wishes, no presents to cheer her up or celebrate her legality. “Well, this isn’t something offbeat anyways”, she told herself as she got back to finishing a story she had started working on. The sound of a

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Three Balloons

imageByNuha FaizJune 9, 2018
“I want three”, she shrieked as she handed the little silver coins she had gathered from her old piggy bank and the balloon-man handed her three Red balloons as she desired.              Overwhelmed, she could not wait till her

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Rebel

imageByNuha FaizApril 21, 2018
    I   In a novel she chose to read, she buried her face, While the night seemed to her longer than usual. The words of Paulo she had made a trace, Everything she dreamed of, incised into a long visual. Her mind did remind her that it was all delusional,

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