Mushtaque B Barq

Micro-fiction stories

Decrease Font Size Increase Font Size Text Size Print This Page


Throughout the year Karim had seen many atrocities, brutal assaults and crackdowns. His brother was already killed by the men in uniform in the last year’s uprising.  And before tulips signed in this year, he had already informed her about leaf fall. On the fourteenth moon night last month when stars were winking at him, he left home without informing his inmates. For few days there was a lot of guess work around, but with time his departure was acknowledged as a resolution. Gun to him was the only solution to address all his unrest, for his dead brother’s bullet ridden body always kept his turbulent mind eventful. No one knew his whereabouts save Hasina, his class fellow whom he loved and trusted much. After two weeks she got a phone call from some unknown number. Next day Karim’s dead body reached home with Hasina wailing and beating the chest.


She gave birth to a third daughter. Everyone was expecting a son. His two daughters were waiting for a newcomer with a name already planned. As Fatima was shifted to the ward, the newly born child started to show the signs of sickness. Her pale face and frozen limbs landed her in ICU and ventilator received her wholeheartedly. Her undeveloped lungs were narrating a pathetic tale. His two daughters like him had put in a gloom over their innocent faces. Fatima turned her face to locate Rashid who came closer and sighed deeply. Before Fatima could say anything, the nurse came running into the ward to break the sad news. Rashid looked at her younger daughter; she passed her gaze to elder sister, a cunning smile brought freshness to their faces. This news for them had much to celebrate, but for Fatima, another curse of pain, ruthless than the labour.


Majid purchased a flat at Zakir Nagar last Sunday. He informed his son Wasim who was still in Srinagar. After much persuasion from mother Wasim who loved his homeland and its forlorn masses was not willing to move to the capital city.  For him the metro cities have enough luxury to offer but he was not willing to surrender his love for his pitiful land. He kept receiving phone calls from his parents to join Jamia Milia for his masters which he by one or the other reason used to ignore. When finally he was forced to join his family, he decided. His decision not only brought his parents back but also encouraged neighbours and relatives to ask endless questions. His bruised neck which he had compressed unsympathetically on that dull board exposed his extremity and his grave sealed with him the love for his land and hatred for extravagancy.


She was there to look after the herd. A little cane that she used to carry with her to keep the beast away that day had already been forgotten. The so called a ‘guardian of peace’ happened to pass by. A devil deeply dipped into his blood all of a sudden made him to obey the lethal plan drawn by his obedience to disobedient. He obeyed and captured her to declare his might.  Lust knows no religion and the Book.  The nearby temple had one goddess sealed in the chamber and the other scattered on the floor.  Between the two goddesses three devils were satiating their lust. After they displayed the power of their independence, the mutilated body revealed the sad tale of her being a girl from minority. The goddess of chastity lowered her gaze for the reason that the National Flag was hoisted in the support of culprit.


Amjad Sahib was evaluating Chemistry papers. Evaluation is a laborious job we all know. What makes this arduous job a bit interesting depends upon the kind of matter a student has put forth. Amjad Sahib picked a unique answer script from a lot, out of turn this time. Instead of Chemistry, it was pathetic history of a girl narrating her woes in Urdu revealing: “I am a widow; my husband was killed in an encounter two years back, now that she needs to clear the backlog of Chemistry paper to get a job to feed my two year daughter”.  The note was short but impressive. It melted Amjad Sahib rich heart and he granted the pass marks but copied the roll number of the candidate to see the fruits of his generosity. He was ashamed when the name against the roll number in the gazette appeared as Gulzar Ahmad Parray.


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *