Mir Arif

Novels that explore the life of a filmmaker are few and far between. When I think of a film, it’s usually the actors that are at the center of my attention and more and more recent novels attest to that.

Perhaps I should have met that girl. What if I was wrong and imagined an ordinary girl so fantastically that I couldn’t even recognise her in real life?

Again, I wasn’t a poet, but words and sentences jumbled up seeing that small face, light make-up enhancing her beauty. A loose strand of hair cascaded down her cheek, framing her face.

While leaving the institute, a nurse gave me a packet of cigarettes as a token of friendship

The sun was up. The sky was a perfect cerulean blue, the neighbourhood blissfully quiet. Through my window, I relished the sunny first day of 2020, with a cup of tea in my hand.