The ambulance sirens are wailing, first distant, then louder, then distant again. Another victim fighting for his life. Her life? After the Coronavirus epidemic ends, the first thing I plan to do is give my children and grandchildren a grateful hug; and my daughters-in-law. In person. Not an emoji.
Read moreThe Moment I Dread
My hands trembled as I ended the call. Someone I didn’t know had died. But what gave me palpitation was hearing of the pain his wife endured while her husband was hospitalized.
She couldn’t be with him.
Coping with Coronavirus: CokeCorona
Boy, what I wouldn’t give for a Coke right now. In a smooth glass bottle shaped perfectly for my hand. Cold. I haven't allowed myself a Coke in years.
Read moreZoomed Out
“It’s a good thing we get along,” I said to my husband. Think of it: cooped up in an apartment—small apartment—all day, all afternoon, all evening, all night; day after day; week after week; we could easily enter the conflict zone. One room: he wants to watch the news on TV, I want to read in a quiet space.
Read moreA Mother's Prayer
There was a roar outside—the sound of people cheering.
“What’s that?”
With empty streets, and not a soul to be seen for days, what was going on?
Toilet Paper & Mask: The Muslim Alternative
The Muslims Are Not Coming! They are the only ones not rushing to the stores to stock up on toilet paper—perhaps just a couple of rolls. May I introduce you to the alternative: the Lota.
Read moreA Billion Six in Prayer
Walking the streets of New York City at noon, one is likely to come across a road-side vendor taking a break from handing a bag of lettuce and tomatoes to a customer, and standing on a piece of cardboard—a flattened out carton—with his arms folded, head bent in prayer.
Read moreAm I Infected?
Watch what I did yesterday and tell me if I should get tested. “Khalid, I am stepping out to get some milk and tomatoes,” I told my husband. “I will come with you,” he said. I took all the precautions public health officials are telling us to use.
Read moreShould China Apologize?
Yesterday my husband and I had our first drawn-out argument. We seldom argue. I’d say we rarely argue. When we do, it’s about stuff like: does this bowl go in the top or bottom shelf of the dishwasher? One of us generously yields; discussion over. Not this time.
Read moreWoman Proposes; God Disposes
Today I would have been in Pakistan, sitting in the lawn on a sunny afternoon, savoring a cup of Kashmiri Chai with my sister Neena, and bouncing my two-year old grandnephew on my arthritic knee. But it didn’t happen.
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